From corvidae1@aol.com Sat May 10 13:20:50 1997
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From: corvidae1@aol.com (Corvidae1)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Epi. GRAND FINALE: Nothing Like The Sun epilogue
Date: 10 May 1997 17:20:50 GMT
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   STANDARD DISCLAIMER: The following story contains scenes of female
domination. Those with moral objections to such activity as well as those
under legal age should not read this story.
   All the characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to
persons living, dead, or undead is completely coincidental. The author
makes no claims about any of the products, movies, artists or children's
stories mentioned in this story, other than they exist and are a part of
our culture at large.  

                             Nothing Like The Sun
                                 By L.Corvidae  
                             Epilogue: Honeymoon

One Week Later, Off The Southern Coast Of Australia
   The Indian Ocean stretched out before me like a vast, roiling field of
lapis lazuli, sparkling in the early morning sun. I felt like throwing up
into it.
   It wasn't just the rocking of the boat or the heat inside my wetsuit,
or even the nauseating stench of the chum that made me ill; it was the
pair of LEXAN cylinders bobbing up and down just beyond the rail and the
huge, gray shape that would occasionally glide by them.
   Behind me, Mistress was admiring another of the clear, bulletproof
tubes; asking our guide where one could purchase them and how much they
ran. She was dressed in an orange skin diving suit, with black stripes;
Her pale, exposed arms and legs heavily sunblocked.
   She came up behind me and wrapped Her arm around my waist.
   "Well," She said, "I know what I'm asking Santa for Christmas!"
   "They're awfully... narrow," I muttered nervously.
   "I know," She sighed dreamily. "Like a big old test tube! I love it!"
   "I mean... what if we jump in... and... miss?" I gulped.
   She looked at me intently. Her dark red hair billowed in the salty sea
breeze.
   "Then I'll erect an eternal flame in the backyard in your memory,
Michael." She laughed, I didn't.
  "What happened to your spirit of adventure?" She asked me earnestly.
    "I think it got transferred to the wrong plane back in Hawaii," I
said.
   "Look, Michael, they've never been able to keep one of these alive in
captivity; and at the rate they're killing them off down here, this may be
the last chance we get to see one, ever."
   She studied my reaction carefully. I still wasn't convinced. I'd seen
it bite at the hunk of meat lashed to the side of the boat, and that
seemed good enough for me.
  She took my hand. "Tell me Michael, do you really feel that much more
afraid than that first night when you sat poised to send that first E-mail
to me?"
   I looked deep into Her dark eyes. "Not that much more I guess."
   "And if you could do it all over again, would you?"
   I smiled. "In a heartbeat, Mistress."
   She squeezed my hand, and together we took the plunge.   
  
                            THE END

               My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;                
             
               Coral is far more red than her lips' red;                  
             
               If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;            
                      
               If hairs be wires, then black wires grow on her head.      
                   
               I have seen roses damasked, red and white,                 
            
               But no such roses see I in her cheeks,                     
          
               And in some perfumes is there more delight                 
              
               Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.            
                     
               I love to hear her speak, yet well I know                  
             
               That music hath a far more pleasing sound.                 
               
               I grant I never saw a goddess go;                          
     
               My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.           
             
                    And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare           
                         
                    As any she belied with false compare.                 
                                                                
                                         William Shakespeare

    
   Note: Please feel free to E-mail with any constructive criticism.
Flames will be ignored. This story is protected by copyright, 1997, by the
author.   




 


   Once, I swore I would die for you,
   But I never meant like this.
   I never meant like this.
   No, I never meant like this.

                Stabbing Westward "Shame"