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!
--------------------------------------------------------
Jasmin (part VII)
by Vivian Darkbloom
The remainder of the journey to and from Capricorn was basically
uneventful. There were the requisite quantity of "gosh, I
remember 200 years ago, this was like so..." and so on. But these
were against a backdrop of absurd traffic congestion and
monumentally hideous architecture, resulting from mind-bogglingly
poor civic planning with which development in Capricorn had been
executed.
I decided that the McCloud's decision to relocate to Syrene had
been amazingly foresightful.
There was one opportunity to meet with the distant descendant of
a friend Jasmin had known, (in her memory, only months earlier)
but it was an awkward and weird few hours sitting in an
uncomfortably luxurious sitting-room, uncovering topic after
promising topic, each of which disappointingly took a nasty curve
into a mine-field of less-than-perfect accord. To make matters
worse, the only drinks served were a positively wretched brand of
instant coffee, and tea. And poor Jasmin, with not one speck of
radioactive-lime soda to be located, though she was able to make
do with some juice extracted from a locally grown Gyadpka fruit,
which is widely recognized to be an acquired taste (or
unacquired, in Jasmin's case).
After news stories about the girl lost in space had been replaced
by other more spectacular items, Jasmin had basically been
forgotten on Capricorn, so it was only with great difficulty that
this woman had dredged up something they had learned once in
history class years ago. And with the advent of the inquisition,
the sexually liberal society Jasmin had grown up in had been
supplanted by remarkably uptight puritanism. The girl Jasmin had
once loved had ironically given birth to descendents who rebuked
such love with vehemence.
It was a moment of unusual reserve in my lover's history of
discourse. Knowing her well as I did, I fully admired her rare
moment of politeness, fueled by her anticipation of affinity,
hopes which proved to be sadly unfounded. Finally we made an
excuse for courteous and forcedly smiling goodbyes, and made our
way with relief down the quiet suburban avenue, back into the
traffic jam which seemed to perpetually blanket the entire
planet, extending its generous arms the over all major arteries,
to convert all main thoroughfares into parking lots at all times
of day and night.
So, it was that within a month or so we found ourselves back on
Syrene again
____________________________________________________________
And it was somewhere in the incoherent pitch-blackness that the
intruder alarm went off in the middle of the night. The beautiful
ever-sweet love of my life was up in a flash, sitting on the edge
of the bed and pulling up all the holographic display screens to
monitor the situation.
I buried my head under the pillow. Had it been up to me, the
stupid system wouldn't have been in the bedroom, but at least she
had acquiesced to installing only the virtual displays, which
were reasonably unobtrusive unless activated.
"Sweetheart," I said. "Be a love, and put those archery lessons
to good use by sending whoever it is, off bristling like a
porcupine with shafts and feathers sticking out all over."
"It won't be me doing the archery tonight," she laughed. "I think
you'll want to see this."
I buried my head further.
"Bulls-eye," she continued, "shot by that little guy from
Valentine's day cards."
"Cupid?" I asked.
"Yeah him."
I cringed, burying my head even further.
She lifted up the pillow to whisper in my ear. "What's the
matter, sweetheart. Afraid of Cupid's arrow?"
I rolled over and faced her. "Zeus was afraid of Cupid's arrows."
"Bright guy," she said, gesturing.
On the screen was the image of a young girl with face of
statuesque Slavic features, and long blonde curly hair trickling
down her back and shoulders, in delicious colors that ranged from
butter to vanilla ice-cream (or at least one might extrapolate
such a thing from the grainy image on the screen).
Dressed only in a white cotton blouse that fell to just above her
knees, she walked barefoot up the dirt path, holding single
candle ahead of her for illumination.
In a flash, I was sitting up on the edge of the bed, fumbling
unsuccessfully to magnify the display area. Jasmin smiled and
touched a ghostly knob hanging in the air, which accomplished
what I had been trying to do.
"Need some help, sweetheart?" she asked, smiling at me, resting
her hand casually on my thigh, under the sheets, her little pinky
invisibly, gently tickling in a way that she knew was giving rise
to the rising hilltop in the landscape of bedcoverings.
The doorbell rang.
"So would you do us both a favor," she requested, "and let me
answer the door? I'm afraid you'll scare her away with your hair
sticking up like that."
"Right."
She disappeared down the stairs, while I found robe and a comb,
the latter of which I was dragging through my tangled matting as
I descended the steps.
And there was Angela, standing with a candle on the front step,
visible through the doorway that Jasmin had just opened. She was
so lifelike, in real life.
The two young girls stood staring at each other silently in
mutual fascination. And here was a moment that was truly rare in
the life of my ever-so sweet lover, that she was stunned to the
point of being speechless. Something to witness, to be sure. They
just stood there smiling and gaping at each other, not knowing
what to do.
I cleared my throat. "Would you like to come in for some cookies?
I baked them this afternoon. Chocolate chip."
"Um, sure," replied Angela shyly.
She set the candle down on the little table-stand we had by the
front door, and they made their way toward the livingroom. When I
returned from the kitchen bearing the plate of cookies, the two
had sat down, Angela in the armchair and Jasmin in the seat of
the couch adjacent, both still just kind of staring at each
other.
I set the plate down on the table, and Angela politely reached
out to take one cookie. She broke the silence, turning to me.
"So, is it really true? Did you rescue Jasmin?"
"Yes, I suppose I did," I replied.
Followed by something else I don't think I've ever seen, Jasmin
reached out for a cookie, but since she was still staring at
Angela, her hand missed the mark and she tipped the whole lot
over onto the carpet.
Giggling, she put her hand to her lips in and "oops," and then
both of us got down on the floor to clean up the mess while
Angela watched sweetly.
From that vantage point, a glance in Angela's direction raised
suspicions in my mind that she was not wearing anything under the
dress, but I did my best not to get distracted. I could
definitely tell she was not wearing a bra, as the two smooth tiny
pastries perfectly placed on either side of her flat chest were
clearly visible through the delightfully diaphanous fabric.
"What's with you tonight?" I asked Jasmin, as I punched buttons
on the local terminal of the house controls to bring the
vacuum-bot out from its enclosure. "I thought I was the only one
allowed to be so clumsy around here."
"I'm so sorry," she said, putting on her best manners for Angela.
"It's OK," I said. "That was only about a third of the batch.
I'll bring out some more while the two of you get acquainted."
I brought out another plateful as the vacuum-bot efficiently
vanished into its little cubby, latching shut the door with a
quiet, well-lubricated click.
Angela took her second cookie, raising her cute little eyebrows
at me, "You made these?"
"Yep," I replied.
Angela stared meaningfully at Jasmin, who stared back. "Wow, my
best fantasy girl comes to life, and she comes with a guy who
really knows how to bake!"
Jasmin broke their gaze to -- carefully this time -- take a
couple of cookies, then slouched back into the couch, crunching
and dropping crumbs down the front of her nightgown.
An awkward silence once more descended. I began to fidget. "Want
to watch a movie?" I offered.
Jasmin rolled her eyes. "Not one of your movies. All you ever
want to watch is science fiction, which you know I hate."
"OK, how about Hero?"
Jasmin shrugged. "It's OK. Nice colors. Only 2-D, though."
"I don't know if I've seen it," said Angela.
"Ancient classic from the 21st century. `Bout the first Chinese
Emperor."
"Oh. I'm so glad you were awake," said Angela. "I had to sneak
out of the house so my mom and dad wouldn't know where I was
going."
"Well, it's OK," bubbled Jasmin, finding her voice again. "We're
always up at this time of night." She looked at me, and I looked
back.
"Or instead we could watch..." I started.
Jasmin turned and slapped my arm. "Hush." Turning back to Angela:
"So, I think it's time to fire up the hot tub."
"But I don't have a bathing suit," said Angela.
"I'm sure Jasmin has one you can..."
Jasmin hit my arm again, then twitching her eyebrows at Angela:
"No bathing suits allowed in our hot tub. They mess up the
filter."
Angela's shy smile silently grew wider and more devilishly
secretive.
"But first you have to get the taste test," said Jasmin.
"The what?"
"To see if you're ready for the hot tub."
Poor Angela looked so bewildered. "How do I do that?" she asked.
"First, sit over here," Jasmin pointed to a spot between me and
her on the couch. Delicately, elegantly, Angela arose and seated
herself between us. I felt her soft, cushiony warmth comfortably
against me.
None of us was wearing very much -- I just had on this flimsy
robe, and Jasmin was wearing a thin silky nightshirt. The scent
of the two hot young girls' bodies next to me filled me with a
sense of contentment.
"And now," said Jasmin, "I give you the taste test."
They gazed at each other, smiling lips only a centimetre or so
apart, when Jasmin abruptly dove in and kissed Angela
passionately on the mouth.
This went on for awhile. Their arms wrapped around each other as
each finally gave in, relaxing into each others' passion. A tiny
part of me felt like I ought to leave, but the rest of me sat
transfixed, fascinated, and very turned on.
Finally, they parted, and Angela asked, "So how do I know if I
passed the test?"
"Well, let's examine the gauge."
"The gauge?"
Jasmin pointed at my lap, where the needle of the gauge had
indeed risen.
"Oh." It was more a reaction than a reply. An expression of mild
shock.
"The eyes deceive," said Jasmin. "The only way to be positive is
the touch-test."
"Another test?"
"Try it."
Angela hesitated, so Jasmin demonstrated. "Like this." She
reached out and squeezed gently. The needle rose further.
Angela gingerly reached out and gently stroked.
By now, the needle had risen to the point of being uncomfortably
constricted, so I shifted to give it some slack.
"Did that hurt?" asked Angela drawing back.
"Oh no. Not a bit," I replied. "By all means, carry on."
She reached out again, and ever so gently caressed, her beautiful
china-blue eyes watching in fascination the effect she was
having. My breathing accelerated.
"I think you pass the test," remarked Jasmin.
Jasmin caressed Angela's hair as Angela continued her loving
caresses, and looked up at me. "Did you ever put this inside of
her?" she asked innocently.
"Sure," I said.
"Several times a day, generally," elaborated Jasmin.
Angela's eyes widened. "Can I watch you do it?"
I shrugged. "I think it could be arranged."
Jasmin smiled, chin on Angela's shoulder "I bet you could even
convince him to put it inside of you."
Angela's expression grew in amazement as she imagined my hardon
disappearing inside the lovely smooth folds of her vagina.
"But first," I remarked, with unusual forwardness, "I think you
need to give Jasmin the taste test."
"Another test?"
"Yes," I said. "Here, let me demonstrate." With uncharacteristic
audacity (guess I was in quite a mood that night) I knelt in
front of Jasmin and lifted her nightgown, to reveal the petals
her flower.
Angela's devilish smile widened imperceptibly.
I stuck out my tongue, kissing and caressing a bit while Jasmin
watched placidly.
"Like that," I said. "Taste?"
Angela leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips, lingering to
savor the flavor of my sweetheart's delicate flower.
Jasmin leaned close, cheek to cheek with Angela, studying her
reaction as the two of us continued kissing. I noticed Jasmin's
hand, reached behind around Angela's waist, exploring down below
through her thin blouse, and felt an inward gasp from Angela's
lips on mine, as Jasmin's fingers hit home. Jasmin lightly drew
lines across Angela's cheek with her tongue, breathing close.
This went on for a while, then when we parted Angela looked at
Jasmin, with mild anxiety, afraid of rejection. "Do you mind if I
taste?" she asked awkwardly.
Jasmin gaped as if she had just slammed into an inaudible
barrier. "Mind?" she repeated. "Uh, no. By all means."
Jasmin twitched and squirmed her legs wider apart with long
built-up anticipation, as Angela knelt in front of her, gently
kissing my sweetheart's clitoris. "Holy shit," shouted my true
love, in words much more characteristic of her typical
expression, stroking Angela's beautifully flowing vanilla curls
as she threw her head back and convulsed with passionate ecstasy
in response to Angela's coaxing tongue.
Angela paused for a minute, taking in the moment of the occasion.
"I can't believe, I'm finally making love to you. All that time
when you were lost in space I knew you'd come back for me. Do you
know how many times I stood by your statue and wished I could do
this?"
"She still spends a lot of hours lost in space," I said.
Jasmin slapped my arm again. "Don't listen to him."
She smiled lovingly at Angela. "Whatever it is, it works!" She
pulled away the belt that had been keeping my robe shut, and
tossed aside the two halves to reveal the skin shaft poised to
impale, and absent-mindedly held on as Angela resumed, while
Jasmin rode the face of her fantasy, with my rod like the handle
on the bus as it tosses you from side to side.
They resumed, filling my heart with satisfaction (and, of course,
lust) to see such a beautiful pulsation of elastic pushing and
pulling, a gently playful tug of war between the two of them,
Jasmin battling to avoid the orgasm, Angela pushing it higher and
higher, until finally Jasmin caved in to her cavorting
convulsions, completely lost in the blissful explosion.
Angela looked Jasmin's hand wrapped lightly around my
upward-facing sword, then up at me. Without asking, she stuck out
her tongue and touched lightly. Shudders of intensity.
"It's like those things a king holds," said Angela.
"A sceptre?"
"Yes, and now it's been sacredly blessed, by being inside of
her," she glanced at Jasmin.
"Do you think you could..." she pointed at her butt.
"I don't know," I replied, "Let's find out."
I got up and knelt behind her, waterfall of deliciously buttery
curls before me, as Jasmin watched in fascination.
"Fuck her good, baby," said Jasmin. "Give it to her. Show her
what I taught you. Show her what you can do."
Angela raised her butt and spread her thighs to let me in, as I
lifted her blouse -- I had been correct, she wasn't wearing
underwear -- and gently began exploring with the tip of my
impossibly stiff holy rod.
It didn't take long to find the feverishly dripping cavity, which
welcomed me in as Angela backed up to impale herself on me.
"Oh," I said, more a breathless response than a word, and Jasmin
calmly watched with obvious enjoyment as the nerve endings zapped
and popped in the most amazing ways, as I watched my hardon
smoothly disappear Angela's amazingly cute little butt.
Angela smiled up at Jasmin. "I just love knowing his thing that's
been inside of you, is inside of me. It's like some sort of
sacred honor."
"It's kinda fun to watch," Jasmin replied, leaning back, absently
fingering herself.
Angela began to get into a rhythm, gyrating her pelvis in subtle
but excruciatingly delightful ripples. "Oh, rescue me," she
called back to me. "Rescue me, rescue me!"
Each ecstatic moan she gave from me being inside of her fanned
the flames of my pounding heartbeat, sent it raging higher an
more furiously, until I could barely take any more, then she
stopped.
I caught my breath as she lifted her head, motioning me forward
along with her as she placed her lips once more on Jasmin's.
(Lips. No, not her mouth).
From this point on, the course of events proceeded with gleeful
certainty to the inevitable.
The three of us danced in slow-motion synchronization, with the
beauty and rhythm of a well-oiled pleasure machine, each of us
sharing a secret pleasure sensation of another, I and my true
love sharing the object of our mutual fantasy, Jasmin enjoying
the beautiful face on her labia, Angela blissfully squeezed
between masculine and feminine, and I cavorting in the beauty of
two lovely and innocent maidens.
OK well, lovely maidens anyway.
I felt Angela convulse and arch several times, but a real trouper
she was, and she kept up the dance, feeling the heat intensify on
both sides of her, inside and outside, as Jasmin, hands on the
back of Angela's head, pressed the skull of her fantasy into the
depths of her dangerous sweet spot.
Finally as Angela played Jasmin and me off of each other, Jasmin
once more tipped over the edge, causing me to erupt into a long
ecstatic explosion of amazing intensity as I thrust again and
again under the sweet crack of her behind into her luscious
vagina, feeling the drops of my love penetrating deep into the
depths of her deliciously cute body.
Jasmin leaned forward and kissed me.
____________________________________________________________
Later that evening, as the pale dawn light began to creep into
the sky, the three of us sat surrounded by candles in the hot
tub, facing together holding hands in a solemn but joyful
triangle, singing the only song we could think of that all of us
knew:
Bring me my bow
of burning gold,
Bring me my arrows of desire...
____________________________________________________________
And as the darkness of dreamtime fades into the light of reality,
let me add simply that our lives continued placidly and happily
as they had before, in our lovely home on Syrene, with the
addition that Angela became a frequent and welcome visitor.
We often visited other planets in the Syrene system, giving
Jasmin a chance to hone her piloting skills, plus offering the
opportunity to explore the sexual possibilities between three
people who deeply and dearly love each other, in zero-gravity.
As for the outside world, and the struggles between right and
wrong, good and evil, Mac vs. PC, they have left us so far alone;
but should any further events transpire worthy of note, (and
given the restlessness of my true love, it does seem likely) I
will be sure to send a copy along this same time-shifted network
to that crude and unreliable predecessor to the Galactranet known
as "usenet," back-linked via a simple Euclidian time-reversal
into the 21st century, for their entertainment and edification.
THE END
_______________________________________________________
For more stories, please visit our site:
/~vivian