To more fully enjoy this story in living, breathing HTML, please visit our website at: /~vivian Now offering over 140,000 words of pure prurience! -------------------------------------------------------- Sangrelysia by Vivian Darkbloom Unicorn The three of us chatted by the water's edge as the magic wok sliced and sizzled with fresh vegetables, and the wavering waves borrowed the deepening reds and oranges from the spectacular sky. The eight-year-old girl told us of events she remembered from thousands of years ago. "It all gets a bit vague after a couple of centuries or so." She sat with slender olive-skinned legs apart, with the innocent exposure of a child unaware the ogling ogre's eyes, or the lesbian ladies' stare. Of the invisible imagined tongues and fingers, licking and caressing her delicate soft tiny smooth folds, exploring the mysteries of the darkness inside that magical crease, the opening ready to eagerly accommodate throbbing desire. "I'll never forget meeting Socrates. That was before I came to Sangrelysia, of course. He was always full of these nutty little ideas but they would make you think, you know? Anyway, I thought he was just another crazy come down to the river -- you should have seen his eyes -- the classic madman, only with a sense of humor that could just kill you. There was a bunch of starry-eyed kids sort of following him around, and he was all saying how you could never set foot in the same river twice, and one of the kids kept saying yes you could because the concept of the river was just a form. . ." "That would be Plato." "Whatever. But the best time of my life I ever spent was in the Indus valley, way back when. I mean, nowadays it's just a mess, so sad. But back in the times of the dimensional merge, it was simply outlandish. Talking elephants, flying monkeys. You never knew when a flock of birds might coalesce into the form of some all-powerful deity who would grant any boon; or a gleaming golden castle studded with gems and mirrors might appear one day, only to vanish the next, without even a trace. And they really knew how to eat, let me tell you. Seven-course dinners that were like epic sagas in dramatic scope, from soaring Himalayan peaks of potatoes, to whisperingly subtle sweet desserts, fragile as a swallow's feather. . ." "Dinner's ready," I said. "Not that I mean to sound ungrateful," she said, lightly touching my forearm. "What you have to offer looks absolutely splendid, thank you." "You're welcome," I said. "But all I did was invoke the spell." "Still." Hunger beckoned. A table appeared, with cushions around it upon which we all sat. Steaming bowls filled with vegetables and rice floated over to set down before us. Hunger met with grease, salt, spices, and fresh vegetables as we set about devouring the plenitude of food. "Everything you know," said Sylvia, "the memories, all the wisdom." "Mostly disconnected memories, really. I don't know how much actual wisdom." "Still." Sylvia's bright eyes were open, intimate in the twilight. "The memories. They're so great. I mean, you know all this stuff." "Yeah?" "Why do you want to throw it away?" "Sylvia --" I began. "It's OK, I'm used to it," replied Clarissa. "Nobody understands. How could you? How could you possibly know what it's truly like to watch empires rise and crumble? To see sophisticated civilizations trampled by arrogant fools in fine armor? The best and brightest flowers of humankind snuffed by the mud of ignorant worthless trash? To watch blithering idiots set fire to books and art, lifetimes worth of hard work, great creations going up in flames to disintegrate into dust? Decades of suffering and struggle for justice rendered meaningless by some tyrant's whim? How can you possibly feel what I do?" "But when we restore the Kingdom --" began Sylvia. "Your Kingdom!" Clarissa laughed harshly with disgust. Her passion and complexity seemed incongruous coming from the body of such a young child. "And you can't possibly know what it is, to watch helplessly, someone you loved as a child, grow old and die." She choked back a sob. Without speaking, our thoughts immersed in the raucous din of a million bugs' voices chattering singing, the soulful chirp of tiny creatures whose time on the planet was so short. The autumnal hues of twilight turned to leaden grey, and pinpoints of brightness began peeking through the celestial sphere. Bats darted silently above us, dining on insects as we consumed the cornucopia of the magic wok. "Pass the rice?" said Sylvia, breaking the silence. But then our silence continued, a kind of dignified reverence for time itself. Cool breezes blew fresh water scent essences across inhaled breath, and I watched Sylvia light a fire, not that one was needed in this embracing tropical warmth. For me to watch her performing magic, it caused something profound to move inside of me, to writhe and stir. Pride and love swelled into passion and desire, but the well of swirling emotions inside met with a stone wall of locked-up stillness as I studied Clarissa, motionless as a statue, sitting cross-legged on the bedding we had spread out. Our ancient child sat in perfect calm, unfathomable, hunched forward slightly, her shadow dancing behind her from the nascent flickering firelight. I scrunched in beside her. "Can I hold you?" I asked. It sounded silly, but I could not think of how else to say it. She looked back at me with a faint smile, mixed with her ever-present complexity which I could not hope to comprehend, but most of all I sensed her loneliness. Shrugging, she acquiesced, leaning back into my arms. Gently, I surrounded her with my comfort. Having built the fire, Sylvia joined us as we lay there, on Clarissa's other side, so we ensconced her with our loving. Gentle softness, the feel of human skin, bare or through thin fabric. The living coziness of another body touching. Smoke scent joined the water's freshness on the breeze. "Who?" asked an owl nearby, then a few minutes later, "Who?" again. Sylvia and Clarissa were lying curled up, forehead to forehead, holding hands, Sylvia's dark strands entwined with Clarissa's gold-flecked dark blonde. I could see the moment approaching in the fullness of Sylvia's lips as the nymph gazed absently up at the starlight. Sylvia touched Clarissa's chin lightly with her tiny thumb, coiling her legs behind the other girl's calves, and before I knew it they were kissing, Clarissa's warm springy buttocks bouncing in slow motion against my lap, as the two girls twisted and turned, pushing and pulling with adagio tension, savoring every thrust and caress, both lost in the intoxicating delirium of repressed lust poured out slowly, delicately. Clarissa reached behind her. She whispered desperately, longingly. "Take it away. Take my immortality." She had found me with her hand, grasping my surging desire in her soft tiny palm, mercilessly tracing the sensitive crease of the ready tip with her little-girl fingers. "No," I said, with difficulty. "Be patient." "PATIENT?!" She sat up suddenly, snarling. "And what would you know of patience? You're telling me I haven't waited long enough?" All action had come to a jagged halt, as anger pumped adrenaline, making reality flicker with confusion. "Clarissa, please," I said. "And you of all people," she struck the center of my chest with her open palm. "You've known the blissful taste of the afterlife, but you still won't let me join your club." "Both wrong," I said. "Would you just calm down and listen for a minute?" The sound of heavy breathing. "How do you know that what I experienced was truly the afterlife? Look. I'm still alive, aren't I?" "Yes, it was the afterlife," she contradicted. "Sure, maybe. Probably even. But nobody truly knows for sure. It's impossible to prove one way or the other, until you actually get there. How can you be positive it's not something completely different?" She spoke slowly, emphasizing each syllable: "I want to end this infernal go-nowhere existence." "You will," I whispered. "Just, don't make me do it right now, please? I'm not ready to take responsibility for such a huge decision. Besides, I'm already in a relationship with Sylvia. Wouldn't you rather have somebody that's all yours?" "But I love both of you!" I noticed she still had one hand on my sex, which was (if anything) increasing infuriatingly in stiffness as we argued. "You barely know us," I murmured. Clarissa smiled. "Intuition. I know." She bent over and kissed my desire, tantalizingly tickling the tip with a flick of her tongue. "Then can't I at least taste it? Taste the seed of death?" "Of life," corrected Sylvia. Clarissa shrugged. "To have life, you must have death. Can't have one without the other. Birth, death, passion. All the same, in a way. Pain, pleasure." She gave another agonizingly delightful turn with the tip of her tongue, looked up at me with a coy smile. "Do you want me to call you `Daddy?'" Sylvia rolled her eyes, and rolled up the bottom of Clarissa's borrowed dress, poking and prodding with knowing finesse. She bent over to whisper in the nymph's ear: "Would you like to orgasm at the same time?" Clarissa whimpered with astonishment, in response to Sylvia's touch. "Yes, please," she managed weakly, then "Oh God!" as Sylvia bent over to apply her tongue to the task. Theism was at an all-time high that night, and many invocations of the supreme deity would soon follow, accompanied by supplications to the Holy Mother of Life, the Queen of Mysterious Night, as well as a diverse array of icons and spirits who might have formed quite a sell-out crowd had they all shown up in person. A burst of feminine aroma blasted me into euphoria, as Clarissa parted her legs, arching her lower back, and Sylvia laid down face-up, to attend fully to her charged duties. In our climb to climax each reflected the inspiration of the other. Watching Clarissa eagerly plunge my dirty secret desire between her tiny red little-girl lips, I felt her worrying my sensitive opening with her tongue, coaxing and cajoling. "Oh, that feels so good!" she gasped to Sylvia. "Oh please, let me taste you!" she slurped hoarsely to me. So Sylvia and I made love to the beautiful little girl, the aged sage of newfound innocence, ever alight with childish play, smooth-skinned yet disconcertingly wise. Yes, Sylvia and I joined in opening our union, in sharing another girl's passion together. As I watched Clarissa's buttocks tremble with the raw saw-toothed edge of mounting climax, she found another nerve underneath my archway of entanglement, burning delightfully with her wicked fingers, digging through the roots of my soul-felt symbiosis, twisting the thorns of sharp pleasure as she lapped innocently with fragile lips, luminescent with the mysteriously shaded chiaroscuro of sexual beauty. Glowing, afire with angelic evil. Her mouth full of me, I felt the vibrations of her voice as she reached her goal against Sylvia's lips, her snorting breaths around my burning sword as her tongue relentlessly probed, as her fingers dexterously played the notes and chords of my soul-fire. It was her release that pushed me over the edge, and I felt my body respond. Like Apollo, I stood motionless on my chariot while around me the wheels of existence churned, and the horses of sensory perception charged ahead on their reins. With that rare thrill of electric oneness, I could see her awareness that she was witnessing the special moment, partaking, influencing the course of events, the merging of heavens and earth, as together we shared the ephemeral intimate glow of sacred delight. In that stillness, with a feather-touch, I gently imparted the gift of my spicy sweetness, the seed of life or inversely, the elixir of long-sought mortality. Gently, lovingly, I placed the pearls of salvation to coat with sticky fluid the delightfully harsh roughness of her waiting tongue. ____________________________________________________________ Afterwards, we hoisted the Princess up Rapunzel's ladder to join us in the palace of delight, I lightly kissing her lips while Clarissa plied her skillful trade in the lower realms between spread legs. From there we drifted apart together into dreamland in the darkness of the flame's fading flicker. ____________________________________________________________ In some unknown hour of darkness, I awoke to see a white unicorn standing over me, eyes curiously gazing into mine. For a long moment, we remained frozen in statuesque rapture. Then, as I thought to waken the others, it leapt up with a whimsical snort an trotted away, horn pointed skyward, opalescent against the night sky, soon to vanish amid the forest shadows. Chapter 26 _______________________________________________________ For more stories, please visit our site: /~vivian