This is a sexual story copyrighted by me, Shon Richards, so 
please don't make any money from it.  I welcome, read and respond to all 
e-mail at shonrichardshsd@earthlink.net

	This story is the second part in a non-continuous series.  That 
means each part can be read for it's own enjoyment.  You can read part 7 
first and then part 2 and not miss anything.  It also means that this 
story is self contained and it won't leave you hanging. 

	For more of this series and essays on the nature of creativity and 
writing; please visit /~ShonRichards/vanessa.html


"Vanessa and Me" 
Part 3
By Shon Richards


	"What do you know about Mayday?" Vanessa asked me.  It was the 
first thing she had said to me since telling me to get into the car an 
hour ago.

	"It's on the first of May, and it celebrates the Spring," I 
answered her.  "It's also today."

	Vanessa nodded and waited for me to reveal more.  She was looking 
adventurous today.  Her long black hair was woven into various braids 
reminding me of Amazons for some reason.  Her usual sunglasses were 
obscuring her eyes and she had her lollipop bobbing in her mouth.  I 
think it was lemon-flavored.  

	"Its also the day they put up a Maypole," I offered.  I wasn't 
sure where my sometimes lover and fulltime mentor on Creativity was 
going with this topic, but it was clear she wanted to see what I knew 
first.

	"What's a Maypole?" Vanessa asked as the wind rippled through her 
white blouse.  

	"I think its phallic related," I guessed.  "I seem to remember 
some off-color jokes about it in a Fantasy series I read.  It's a big 
giant pole that young virgins dance around while wrapping it in 
ribbons."

	"Why is the pole phallic?" Vanessa asked.

	"If I remember right, the pole represents some sort of Male 
Fertility spirit," I added.  "The ribbons represent binding his 
fertility.  I think.  I remember researching it for a story once, but I 
found conflicting information.  It seems to be a European thing, but 
every region had its own rules."

	Vanessa laughed.  I loved to watch her laugh lines emerge on her 
face.  Ten years my senior, she was a striking woman.  

	"It doesn't matter what the pole used to represent," Vanessa 
said.  She had her lollipop out and was waving it at the fields we were 
passing.  "They used the whole ritual to try to bind elemental forces 
to grow crops and maybe have children.  Both are things society has 
mastered today.  We have genetically engineered corn and more fertility 
drugs than medieval people could have dreamed of.  That's why no one 
remembers the exact reasons for the Mayday celebration; they don't need 
to know.  Trust me, if eating next winter depended on knowing how many 
ribbons were needed or what magic words to say, people would have 
remembered."

	"Why do you bring it up?" I asked.

	"Because, why do you think they picked the first of May?" Vanessa 
asked back.

	"I know this one," I laughed.  "It was halfway between the Spring 
Equinox and the Summer Solstice."

	"Right, it was also the sacred day of Bel, a Celtic God of Fire," 
Vanessa added.

	"Why was Fire related to Mayday?" I asked.

	"Let me ask you this instead," Vanessa said.  "Where do you get 
your ideas from story-boy?  How can you look at a car wreck and think 
of a story about ghost cars and another person looks at the same wreck 
and can only think about his insurance?"

	"Just the way I am, I guess," I answered.

	"Maybe," Vanessa conceded and we both laughed.  We recognized 
that we were both being evasive with answers today.

	"Let me ask you another question," Vanessa continued.  "What is 
it like for you when you get writer's block?"

	I grimaced.

	"Its very frustrating," I said.  "Like trying to grow an idea out 
of dead soil.  Sometimes I just sit there stumped with nothing to write 
about the when I do get an idea it feels lifeless or uninteresting."

	"Lifeless, exactly," Vanessa agreed.

	We rode in silence until Vanessa turned the car down a dirt road.  
A few minutes later I noticed a primitive roadblock crossing our path. 
A man stood guard to one side next to a portable shed. Behind him, the 
road continued and turned to cleave through a thick mass of trees.

	The man approached the car as Vanessa pulled to a stop.  He 
looked like a stereotype of farmers from most movies, which is to say 
he had overalls, a shotgun, a hunting cap and looked ready and able to 
shoot us on a whim.    Vanessa flashed him a piece of paper she had 
folded on the dashboard.  The man smiled and relaxed.

	"If you two will step out and pick a mask?" the man said 
politely. 

	"Certainly," Vanessa answered.  "Come on," she told me.

	The farmer opened up the shed, which was locked with a thick 
padlock.  I was a little surprised to see that what he had so carefully 
guarded was just shelves and shelves of masks. They ranged from 
elaborate leather hoods to simple domino masks that covered only the 
eyes.  Some of the masks were adorned with feathers and spangles while 
some of them were Halloween masks of animals that covered the face 
completely.  I noticed there was nothing frightening or scary about the 
masks.  

	"Pick one that sings to you," Vanessa said.  "Something that 
represents you as a writer would be best."

	That was a tough choice and a little abstract.  There were masks 
of dogs and lions and some masks that reminded me of Zorro and a few 
masks that reminded me of bondage parties.  I thought of myself as a 
writer and realized that I have a sort male swagger to my style that 
I'm proud of.  Or at least hope I have.  I saw a green domino mask that 
reminded me of Zorro and Robin Hood.  

	"Hold still," Vanessa told me as she applied the stage glue to my 
face.  The mask pressed against my skin and I felt a chill.  Whether it 
was from this sensual woman masking me, or some power of the mask, was 
up for debate.  Once affixed, it cut my peripheral vision.  I couldn't 
see out of the corner of my eyes and it reminded me of the binders 
horses wear.

	"Perfect," Vanessa said as she examined me.  She either approved 
of my choice or agreed with it.  I liked her mask as well.  It was 
black snakeskin mask that covered her eyes and cheeks.  It was shaped 
like an upside down 'W'.  It matched the snake bracelet on her wrist 
and it blended right in with her black hair.

	"We're ready now," she told the man, who moved the roadblock 
away.  We climbed back into the car and continued down the road.  As he 
moved the roadblock back into place, I felt sealed in despite the 
bright sky above us.

	"Fire is often associated with knowledge," Vanessa said as we 
entered the trees.  "Most myths begin human knowledge with fire, but I 
like to think it also represents intelligence."

	I saw where she was going with the reasoning, which was nice 
considering I had no idea where we were going physically.  "So in a 
way, a festival on a day sacred to Fire would be sacred to ideas."

	"Exactly," Vanessa said.  "A few years ago some of us realized we 
already had a day sacred to writers and artists.  We decided to do 
something about it."

	She fell silent again as the car emerged from the forest. We were 
now in a wide grassy area.  I could see the ruins of a barn and assumed 
this treeless area used to be a field.  There were already cars parked 
along the trees and I could see a large group of people gathered in the 
grass.  They sat directly on the grass with no blankets or chairs.  
There was a small plastic pool set off to the side and a cooler filled 
with bottles of water beside it.   

I was not surprised to see a pole standing proud in the middle of 
the gathering.  It was decorated with various ribbons of all sorts of 
colors.  Something that resembled the tip of a cock was carved on the 
top and the entire pole glistened from black varnish. 

	"Neat," I laughed.  "It's a Mayday festival."

	"Remember," Vanessa said to me as we got out of her car.  "Just 
tell someone 'No thank you' if they do something you don't like.  Also, 
don't call me by name.  Your mask is your identity here."

	She refused to explain herself any further.  Vanessa just walked 
towards the group and ignored my questions.  When we reached the group 
she sat down between two men.  I noticed everyone in the circle 
alternated between male and female, so I was forced to sit away from my 
mentor.  The group had an odd mixture of clothing; some were dressed 
nicely while others wore work clothes.   I sat down between a short 
brunette with an owl mask and a black woman wearing a brown cat mask.

	"The circle is finally complete," a man said.  He was sitting 
separate from the group by the pole and I was curious why I didn't 
notice him before.  Tall and deeply tanned, he was wearing a long green 
robe that reminded me of a judge's gown.  His hair was long and blonde 
and the ends blew lightly in the wind.  The simplicity of his mask 
struck me.  It was a blue ribbon that ran across his eyes with tiny 
slits cut for vision.  The rest of us looked oddly overdressed with our 
elaborate masks.

	"In ancient times, people gathered to call on the Gods to 
fertilize their fields or their loins," he said.  "Today we gather to 
call on whatever powers there may be to fertilize our minds with 
Creativity."  

"Instead of wheat, we ask for originality."

"Instead of children, we ask for the inspiration to inspire 
others."

"Instead of food for our bodies, we ask for sustenance for our 
Muses."

"Hold the hands of your neighbors," the Blue Ribbon Man 
commanded.  I held the hand of the Owl lady in my left and the hand of 
the Cat Woman in my right.

"Joined in hands, we make the call together," the Blue Ribbon Man 
said.

"Men, look at your neighbor to the right in the eyes," The Blue 
Ribbon Man commanded.  I looked at the Cat Woman to my right and 
noticed she was wearing light blue contact lenses.  Her dark skin 
soaked the sunlight like a cat on a windowsill.

"Look at your neighbor and see in their eyes, your own desire for 
creativity reflected back at you," the Blue Ribbon Man said.  He was 
right.  Her contact lenses told me she liked to stand out in a group.  
The cat mask she had chosen reminded me of Egyptian mysteries and the 
yearning to make something that lasted forever.

"Now men, look at the neighbor to your right, and look into their 
eyes for the same truth."

He was right again.  The Owl Lady had brown eyes concealed among 
white feathers.  Her eyes darted over me, absorbing everything in that 
visual artist manner that I often saw in Vanessa.  Even in ritual, she 
was memorizing and examining me to see if I would be a good subject 
later.  Could she tell I was doing the same for a later story?

"In ancient times, kissing the Blarney Stone was alleged to give 
people the power of eloquence.  I believe a fellow creative soul has 
more power than a rock.  Men, kiss your neighbor to your right, and 
discover this for yourself."

I was a bit surprised by this command but the Cat Woman was 
already leaning towards me.  Our lips met parted.  Her tongue was 
slippery in my mouth and I loved the flavor of mint on her.  The 
whiskers of her mask brushed my cheeks as we drank our kisses.

"Now men, taste the power of the neighbor to your left," the Blue 
Ribbon Man commanded.

With reluctance I broke my kiss with Cat Woman and turned to Owl 
Lady.  Her lips were shiny and smiling.  She kissed me softer than the 
Cat Woman did but the passion was the same.  Our tongues meet in 
feathery light touches.

"In ancient Maydays past, the Green Man was thought to bring 
mischief and randomness to the festival.  Perhaps this was to show that 
chaos is male, or perhaps it was to put a fear of Nature into the 
primitive people."

"Now women, release the hands you hold and touch the man on your 
right," the Blue Ribbon Man commanded.  "Touch him with your fingers 
and hands as you realize that such fears have no place here.  This man 
you touch has nothing for you to fear."

The Owl Lady released my hand and touched my cheek.  It was a 
gentle stroke that glided down my neck and moved my long brown hair off 
my shoulder.  She gripped my shoulders while her other hand moved over 
my chest.  I was being felt up but it was soothing.  I stayed perfectly 
still even when her fingertips brushed my pants and coaxed my knees.

"Now women, touch the man to your left and recognize that though 
he is male, he seeks the same thing you seek.  There will be no gender 
conflicts here," the Blue Ribbon Man intoned.

The Cat Woman smiled as she lifted my t-shirt and felt my chest.  
Her fingers toyed with my chest hair and I almost giggled.  I watched 
her mask covered face as her hands explored my shoulders and gripped 
the muscles of my chest.  Her expression was intense as she 
familiarized herself with my body.  I felt like I was being absorbed.

"Now everyone, you now know and see that we are all equal in our 
quest," the Blue Ribbon Man announced.  "We all seek the same elusive 
goal of creativity despite our gender.  Shed your preconceptions and 
modesties by removing your clothes and revealing your naked forms to 
your fellow questors."

I froze with hesitation.  Beside me, the Cat Woman was already 
pulling off her blouse and the Owl Lady was standing to remove her 
pants.  Across from me, Vanessa was whipping off her blouse and 
snapping off her bra.  The men were stripping as well, revealing bodies 
both fit and unfit.  The idea of modesty seemed more like ego when you 
are the only one not stripping in a group.

I started easy by taking off my shirt.  The sun glowed on the 
scratches the Cat Woman had left on my chest.  I stood up and unzipped 
my pants and nervously pulled them down.  My erection was huge under my 
pants and I could feel my face burning with embarrassment.  I felt 
exposed and vulnerable yet the rapid nudity of the members of the 
circle encouraged me.  As hard as it should have been to strip in front 
of strangers, they didn't feel like strangers.  The earlier rituals had 
familiarized me with them as well as gave us a bond.  

I pulled my underwear down and exposed my hard cock and bare 
buttocks.

"In the oldest days, people used to come together on Mayday to 
invoke fertility of the Earth," the Blue Ribbon man announced.  "They 
used symbolism, chanting and sex to command the power of creation.  
Today, we try to invoke the fertility of the Mind."

"We don't have the symbols they used, we have our own. We don't 
use their chants, we have our own.  But there is one thing we can use 
that they used and that is the power of sex.  In the union of bodies 
and sharing of sexual energy, we invoke the oldest form of creation."

"Let those who are satisfied with their creativity sit or leave," 
the Blue Ribbon Man offered.  "Let those who quest further stay around 
the Maypole and stoke the flames of creativity together in a fusion of 
bodies."
   
I almost laughed.  Was this whole ceremony an excuse for an orgy?  
Part of me wondered if the masks and kissing and stripping were a joke 
and this was the punch line.  Perhaps this whole thing was an act to 
get someone laid.  As people moved together, kissed and held each other 
as they moved to the ground; I saw that no one else was laughing.  Even 
Vanessa, who was locking lips with a man wearing a leather hood.  

The Cat Woman was looking around for a partner.  That seemed like 
a crime in itself.  I reached for her and put my arm around her waist.

"I have a creative flame for you," I told her.  She laughed but I 
stopped her giggles with a deep kiss.  Free to use my hands, I ran them 
over her back and grabbed her dark buttocks.  She moaned into my kiss 
as my fingers squeezed her ass hard.

We ground together for a small span of time.  My cock pressed 
against her belly while her buttocks squirmed under my grip.  Our 
tongues and lips never stopped kissing and I was amazed by how aroused 
I was.  I was quickly losing myself under the warm sun of May and I 
began to believe that today truly was dedicated to a God of Fire.

I don't remember who pulled whom to the ground, but somehow I 
ended up on my back with the Cat Woman descending onto my face.  Her 
dark sex was completely hairless and completely wet.  Dark thighs 
straddled my head like ebony pillars.  She cupped my hands over her 
breasts as she ground her hips into my mouth.  As my tongue danced 
inside her, I watched her torso sway to some unheard music.

Her sex was a fountain of desire that I lapped eagerly from.  
Ideas raced through my head along with metaphors, imagery and plots.  
While her pelvis grinded against my mouth, I felt like my mind was 
going to explode with stories and novels.  If I wasn't so damn horny, I 
might have been tempted to push her off so I could write some of the 
ideas down.

A hand gripped my cock and I moaned in the Cat Woman's pussy as I 
was slowly stroked.  The touch was slow and delicate and I thought of 
Owl Lady though it could have been any of the women assembled today.  
My mind raced as I wondered who it could have been.  Was it the redhead 
with the fox mask or was it the older woman in the red satin veil I saw 
earlier?  I wondered if it could be Vanessa, my mentor come to stroke 
my creative flames higher.  

About then I felt a mouth encase my cock and I stop worrying 
about who it could be.  Their mouth dropped over the entire length of 
my cock until I was engulfed and I could feel the exhalation of their 
nose upon my balls.  My cock pulsed under their tongue and I moaned 
endlessly into the Cat Woman's sex with pleasure.  Slowly the mouth 
rose and dropped and those tight lips stroked my cock with a delightful 
suction.

The Cat Woman grabbed my hair and pulled me tighter against her 
sex.  I was gasping for air but still I continued to lick.  My senses 
were torn in half as the smell and taste of her beautiful pussy 
competed with the bliss of my cock being sucked.  All my eyes could see 
was the rich darkness of the Cat Woman's belly as she pulled me harder 
against herself.  

In a quiver of thighs and final face grinding of her hips, the 
Cat Woman climaxed.  Her hard clitoris was pressing against my teeth 
and I could feel her desire dripping down my chin.  Despite my need for 
air, I continued to suck and devour any space of her sex my tongue 
could reach.

Finally she rose from my face.  A parting smile is all I got from 
her mask-covered face.  The sun shone down directly onto me as I gasped 
for air.  

During all of this, someone continued to suck my cock.  I looked 
down and saw a blonde with very short hair and a Butterfly mask that 
covered her entire face.  Her body was small, almost delicate, and my 
imagination immediately filled in her history.  She was a Fairy, 
summoned to the orgy by the noise and powers we had invoked.  

As my imagination wrote a story around her, she released my cock 
from her mouth and smiled at me briefly before continuing to suck me.  
I laid back and relaxed.  My hand rested on her back and felt the 
sensuous seesaw motion of her spine as her head rose and fell on my 
cock.    

After a few minutes she stopped.  Butterfly Imp gave me a wink 
and stood up.  As I started to rise, she walked casually away until a 
Wolf Man grabbed her and she squealed with delight.  

At first I thought I might have done something wrong but I came 
to understand that wasn't the case.  Everywhere I looked, people were 
hooking up and parting.  It was like a sensual buffet.  Some people 
were sampling delights while others were fucking to completion.  It 
depended simply on the moods of the participants and more importantly, 
according to their creative appetites.  This wasn't just an orgy; it 
was a meeting and mixing of spirits.

A bent over woman caught my eye.  Well, her ass caught my eye 
since I didn't see much of the woman.  She was on her knees facing away 
from me sucking on someone's cock.  All I could see of her was her pale 
ass framed by dark tan lines; swaying back and forth as her front half 
did something naughty.  The ass had a few grass stains but what I 
really loved was the contrast of her dark tan against the pale skin of 
her buttocks.  Her tan lines were like intangible lingerie.

I walked over to her, passing a Cat Man mounting a Dove Woman and 
one couple wearing identical leather masks as they performed oral sex 
on one another.  I ran my hands over her hips to let her know I was 
there.  She made no movements to stop me as I cupped my palms against 
her firm ass.  The man she was sucking wore a red bandana and 
considering how tightly his eyes were closed, I doubt he even noticed 
me.

The unknown woman's ass pushed back against my hands in an 
unmistakable invitation.  Her sex had light blonde hair that tickled my 
manhood as I slipped into her lips.  I pulled her ass back towards me 
until the globes of her buttocks rested against my stomach.  Her ass 
was amazingly cool in contrast to the heat of the day.  Once my cock 
had a moment to rest inside of her, to feel the heat of her fire and 
for her to feel the size of my offering, I began to move inside her.

It was strange and surreal but completely enchanting.  Her ass 
had summoned me.  I thought about the legends of Sirens and had a few 
silly thoughts about singing buttocks.  As I fucked her with a slow 
steady pace, my over-active imagination was filling in the blanks about 
this mystery woman.  Was she as blonde as her pubic hair?  Was she a 
young woman or an older madam of refined wisdom?  Was she thinking of 
me or just the cock in her mouth?  

As I fucked her I understood that the point of the masks was to 
have sex with the unknown.  

Her ass impacted against my stomach and sent delightful little 
quakes through her buttocks.  My hands sweated against her waist as I 
pulled and pushed her onto my cock.  I could hear her moans despite the 
flesh in her mouth.  With a final groan, my own fire burst within her 
and added to her collections of inspiration.

I pulled away shaking.  Despite my orgasm, my member was still 
hard and eager.  The unknown woman's ass was red from where my body had 
slammed into it.  She continued to suck and I was glad she never looked 
behind her.  I didn't want a mask to color the ideas she had given me.

"Come with me, Green Hero," a Snake Witch told me.  Looking up I 
saw the sun shining bright behind her and setting her dark hair aflame.  
The hair between her legs was glistening from a dozen mergings.  Her 
heavy breasts were proud and flushed.  It took me a moment to recognize 
her for Vanessa.

"You need to stop and take breaks or else you'll get 
overwhelmed," she told me.  "Come with me for a minute and then you can 
get back to your pursuits."

I followed her to the plastic pool filled with water.  She 
splashed some water on my cheeks and stroked my back as I cupped water 
to my mouth.

"Wow, my mind is racing," I stuttered.  "Is it really magic?"

"Do you want the mystic bullshit answer or the scientific 
answer?" the Snake Witch asked me.

"Both," I said.  It seemed like a crime in this place to not 
listen to every idea.

"Polyamorists call it 'new relationship energy'," she explained.  
"Its that thrill you get from a new sexual or emotional relationship.  
It's that excitement you get for the first two months with a new 
girlfriend.  Your emotions are flying high because for one brief 
moment; there's no limit to what might happen."

"Another explanation is that men and women each have different 
kinds of energies.  By participating in a physical orgy, you are 
swapping energy along with fluids.  Think of it as a metaphysical 
cross-pollination."

"Another reason is that the Blue Ribbon Man is a hippy who 
organizes this event as a way to get laid and right now you're just 
really horny and thinking its magic," the Snake Witch offered. 

"Wait a minute," I said.  "Which one is the bullshit answer?"

The Snake Witch smiled.  "Does it matter?  If it works, don't 
question it.  I've been doing it for a few years and I can honestly 
say, it hasn't hurt my art at all.  It'll be up to you to decide what 
you think before next year's Mayday rolls around."

I laughed.  Looking into the crowd, I saw a dozen different 
combinations of people and masks.  There were also a dozen different 
stories and a dozen more different images that I wouldn't be forgetting 
anytime soon.

"I'm going to need more research then," I said slyly as I pulled 
the Snake Witch to me.  

"Are you seducing me?" she asked as I cupped a breast and kissed 
the nipple.  "Or you just using me for my female creative energies?"

"Does it matter?" I said before sucking on the other nipple.

Later in the grass, she cried out her answer.