From: bn737@freenet.carleton.ca (Janet Coleman Sides)
Reply-To: bn737@freenet.carleton.ca
Newsgroups: rec.arts.erotica,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Subject: Twice Around for Kaja
Date: 14 Nov 1995 05:48:37 GMT
Organization: rec.arts.erotica immoderation
Message-ID: <489ajl$fo@netaxs.com>

Archive-name: twice-kaja



I'm the same Janet Coleman who wrote "Once Around for Kaja", the companion

story to this one (though not a prerequisite). I've merely acquired another

syllable in a friendly takeover.



TWICE AROUND FOR KAJA

(Or, New Body Thief Adventures)



     I loll near the edge of the bed, humming, deliciously well fucked

and feeling sinuous and lithe and a little delirious: drunk

again, of course, but drunk with sex, with Kaja and our lovely new

toy. Oh, he *is* lovely. I slide my head around enough to look at his

muscular body. He has a hairy chest, which is more Kaja's taste,

but oh it's blond, he is so completely and beautifully

blond, even his pubic hair, and it sets off his big smooth

cock quite nicely. To look at this man's skin is to make your mouth

water to taste it. And I think he looks like Sting, although Kaja

told me earlier in the bar that I was seeing things. I

think he looks a lot like Sting. Let me see things. Let

there be things, and I will see them, and I'll say they're

skookum. And his eyes are not too pretty, not too blue, and

his mouth is delectable, so that's all right. Oh, it's more than

all right.



     I'm lightly exhausted, a little light-headed,

actually, and so I relax and close my eyes and listen to the silk

sounds of skin sliding against skin as Kaja kisses down the length

of his body and now she must be delicately licking just around his

balls to tease him because I hear his breathing hitch and change,

and I feel an empathetic clenching in my cunt, and without thinking

about it I spread my legs and feel the warm, sex-drenched air

against my (by this point) slightly swollen but deliciously

satisfied bichi. Ahh, I could do it again, feel him

smoothly and tirelessly pounding his cock into me and out of me

again and again . . . but not just yet. It's Kaja's turn.



     I keep my eyes closed. I can hear him beginning to move and

moan, and the soft wet sounds that must be Kaja's mouth engulfing

his marble-hard, velvet-warm cock, and I know it must taste of me,

and I open my legs wider yet against the empathetic rush of

moisture inside, and my clit feels so big, so insistent, almost

whimpering against the air, but I won't touch, I want to think

about it for awhile.



     And as I lie there, listening to the moist murmurings and his

soft wondering sounds of delicious torment, my attention draws down

and coalesces like smoke around my clit, and my mind is filled with

it, bigger than life and twice as horny, firm and slightly swollen

and yearning. I am dimly aware of thrusting against the air, slow

rising and then the turning of my hips as I fall again, and my clit

yanks my attention back to it, and suddenly I understand that a

clit has a cock-like nature at its straining heart, that these two

things begin the same in the womb, and strive always to be reunited

- and I can feel what it would be like, bigger, longer,

hard, twitching with eagerness to plunge, to be engulfed in

the tightness, the wetness -



     My eyes are closed, but now I behold the bodies next to me, I

clearly see his fine rigid cock as Kaja nibbles at its tip with

her lips. And there in the perfect surreality behind my eyelids I

draw with my will a fire line, a glowing streak like captive

lightning, from the center of my clit to the center of his cock. I

am holding my breath. Can it be done?



     "Magic do as you will," I murmur, and TUG on

the fire line -



     And my eyes snap open onto the ceiling and I am lying there,

yearning, on my back, and my wild hopes crash to earth. I glance to

my left to see my lovers - and stare stupidly at the wall.



     I swivel my head, raising it up off the bed. I am lying there,

legs open, seemingly asleep, breathing deeply and evenly - over

there.



     I turn my head back, still holding it up, and find Kaja

sitting back on her heels, smiling at me invitingly - she thinks I

am What's-his-name. I can barely keep from giggling. I sit up,

climb to my knees, stare down at my stolen body.



     Oh, it's beautiful. The cock juts out from my body and

defies gravity, so hard and hot: the moisture from Kaja's mouth is

evaporating in the warm, sex-drenched room and I can feel it all

over this impossibly large new clit. The flesh of the scrotum

tightens and the balls feel tight and heavy and there is nothing in

this world that I want but to pump and pump and relieve this

awesome pressure in spurting, in coming.



     I look up at Kaja and my smile twists What's-his-name's face

in unaccustomed ways.



     "Ready, lady?" I rasp happily - bigger lungs, bigger throat,

bigger mouth, but it sounds like me - and Kaja does a magnificent

naked double-take. I glance over at my own body lying there asleep,

and she follows my gaze, then looks back at me with wonder and

hilarity fighting for control.



     I break down into laughter and so does she, almost

simultaneously. It's fantastic, ludicrous - a delicious

opportunity, and I don't know where to begin . . . she leans

forward to stare into his face for signs of me inside. I don't know

what she sees. Do my expressions translate accurately in this new

face? I'll ask her . . . later. I reach out with a big

hand, peripherally admiring the finely haired, muscular forearm

with the lovely strong veins standing out - I've always admired

that in men - and cup Kaja's chin, gently tilting her head up and

I lean in and kiss her mouth, a harder kiss than I would give her

with my own lips, but as gentle as possible. I am suddenly afraid

of the strength crouching in this body, that it will get away from

me, unaccustomed to it as I am, that I will hurt her.



     To cover my concerns, maybe to buy a little time, and

certainly to ensure her readiness, I settle Kaja onto her back and

dip my head to breathe warmth over her sex, and tentatively dart

What's-his-name's tongue inside. A flood of sweet-salt juices

greets my inquiry: she is magnificently wet, already was. The rush

of moisture was only waiting for an invitation, and now, freed,

bathes her entire beautiful, small, glistening pink pussy, and an

ache of longing grips this cock, my cock, for now at least,

and involuntarily I groan.



     "C'mon, lady," she says, an edge of a giggle twining around

the near-moaning quality in her voice, and she spreads her legs

wider as if she can't help it. I look up, not certain of the

meaning.



     "'C'mon'?"



     There is humor in her face, but there is a soft flush of

desire, and she crooks her finger at me, beckoning me up.



     "Come on . . ."



     All the encouragement I need. But there is more. As I

crawl closer, and hesitate, she reaches out with her slim, small

hand and carefully grips my cock, her fingers firm but yielding -

in the back of my mind I recognize what she is doing, I could never

have been on the receiving end of it before, she is gauging the

firmness and guiding its position, her legs are so wide, her hips

angled up to offer a direct access inside. Her knees are bent, her

little feet in the air, wet pink pussy with its pouting lips a

hungry, open target.



     I know how she feels, from long experience: spread apart and

open and waiting, waiting, to be filled, stuffed full - but this

side is so new, I must take just another moment of the wanting, to

savor it, the cock a thick, fleshy extension of the spine, fine

strong muscles in the back and legs at the ready, and the

power, I will admit it, the power of kneeling there

poised over this beautiful woman waiting for me to fuck

her, to drive us both to pleasure . . .



     I would not care to speculate whether it is mercy or pure

selfish lust that finally prompt me to motion. It doesn't matter.

Both cross my mind in that moment, so both it must be. I pull back

slightly as I settle my thighs up against the back of Kaja's

suspended ones, and she releases my cock and reaches both hands

down to her pussy, spreading the lips even wider, eyes glittering

at me from near-closed lids.



     I take hold of my cock then, and guide the bulbous, ridged tip

to the mouth of her slit, and then I thrust in.



     I cry out in pleasure and startlement at the incredible

tightness of her, hot and throbbing and encasing my cock in

muscular softness, and she cries out at the hard, hard bigness

filling her, stretching her open, and for a moment we regard each

other, me buried to the hilt in her, both of us reminding ourselves

what is happening here.



     Her eyes are wide, nearly glassy. She pants, "It's really

you?"



     I lean forward, resting on my hands over her. "In the fifth

grade, once," I grin down at her, throbbing inside her, "I told you

a dirty joke and you wouldn't talk to me for two whole days."



     "Oh, come on," she scoffs, "it was only one dayyyahhhhh--!"

as I pull back, back through the slick embrace of her cunt,

and slam forward again, and her eyes slide shut and her mouth open.

I am even a little deeper in this time than before, if such a thing

is possible, though What's-his-name's cock is just the right length

for Kaja, at its deepest penetration still reaching just shy of

her cervix. I cannot hurt her. The idea is almost more exciting

than that of being able to truly fuck her: I can give free

rein to this demanding appendage and not hurt her and not

have to worry about hurting her.



     With the shred of self-possession I have left I say, "You

have been taking your pill?"



     She opens her eyes partially, smiles crookedly, her face

flushed. "Nice lady. Yes. I've been very good."



     "Good," I growl, still holding still, poised over her,

surrounded and aching to move. "I want to come inside you. I

wouldn't know when to pull out if I had to and I'm not sure I

could. Oh, you feel so good, Kaja . . ."



     "Hush up and fuck me," she whispers, and I obey her.



     Without further teasing or experimentation - I couldn't if I

wanted to, and I don't, I want this, want and want it, and I am

having it now, pumping my rigid rod in and out of her

incredible, incredible encasing cunt which feels as if it's pulling

me in, inexorable, thrumming with heat, open and grasping and so

tight, that word fills my mind, so tight as I lunge

and withdraw, lunge and withdraw, in and out and

in . . . she is moaning, her voice which begins light and

almost high is deepening, hoarsening, dropping almost an entire

octave as I fuck her, pumping smoothly, watching her face

contorting into a near-feral grimace, she loves this, I am bringing

her sweet pleasure even as I receive it myself from her.



     My cock is growing even thicker, even bigger, swelling against

the constricting walls, and she feels it, and we both realize that

I'm going to come. I wanted to make her come first, and I try to

slow down, hold it off, but she reaches around and grips

What's-his-name's taut, straining buttocks, insisting on the fast

rhythm, urging me on.



     "You're going to cooome," she croons, "let it happen, let it

come . . ."



     A sound to the side attracts our attention for a moment. There

I am - no, there he is, in my customary body, he would have

had to go somewhere, after all. There is my face, but I can

see quite clearly even in my delirium of lust that it is not me

behind it, and the expression is foolish, confused, mouth and eyes

open wide. He is sitting up, staring at us, then looks down between

the legs of my own body at my visibly wet and engorged pussy.

Almost by itself the hand reaches down to touch the clit, gingerly,

as if the fingers might be burned. The fingers of my own body's

hand look long and elegant as they begin the rhythm to which they

are so accustomed: I feel a twinge of absurd pride.



     I have taken all this in in the space of a few seconds. I

cannot spare any more attention. As one Kaja and I look back at

one another, and her face is triumphant and welcoming and she grips

my ass and pulls me against her so hard I feel I could almost go

through her, over and over, in and in and out and out and I am

swelling, and a massive spasm is beginning in my almost

painfully tightened balls and boiling in

my cock and it bursts all at once, leaping, jerking, and I

throw back my head and howl in victory and ecstasy, my eyes

squeezed shut, dark red explosions blooming against the darkness

behind the lids, and I am spurting hot and thick, heartbeat

hammering in my cock as I come and come in the dark, wet clutch of

Kaja, straining, arching, coming, as she wraps her legs

around my back, holding tight to me as I howl and strive. It seems

to go on an impossibly long time, though I know it's only several

seconds really . . . and at last the wave has broken, the glory of

it ebbing slowly, and I bend forward to rest on my elbows, my head

cushioned between her breasts, heart slamming in my chest, I feel

it all through this body, thrumming in my cock as it begins to lose

that marble hardness.



     Dimly I hear Kaja laughing softly in pleasure and wonder,

dimly I hear What's-his-name moaning in my voice as he approaches

coming himself in my body, and a roaring like water rises over me,

drowning out all real sounds, and a spinning, sparkling blackness

sweeps over my eyes, a lost moment of surrender and vertigo.



     I jerk to consciousness in my own proper place in my own

native body, my fingers wildly rubbing my clit - awkward, it's my

right hand, I'm a lefty, but no matter: I am there, I come

with violence, legs trembling, cunt singing and shouting, clit

throbbing and thumping with my pulse, and then gradually the orgasm

recedes, stars gleaming behind my eyes.



     It takes me a few minutes to catch my breath, to come back to

myself, settling easily back into the skin that I have always

known. Faintly I am aware of What's-his-name sputtering

incoherently, then the bedsprings jerk as he gets up from the bed,

stomps across the room to the bathroom, and sulkily slams the door.





     I open my eyes at last to stare into Kaja's. I know that our

expressions must be identical: we are gloating with the knowledge

of the impossible thing that we have done . . . and over cheating

our lover not once, but twice, of magnificent release. Well, it

isn't kind, I know, but we certainly aren't going to let him go home

till we've made it up to him, and I say so as I reach for my glass

of deep rich red wine.



     Our laughter rises so high and lasts so long that

What's-his-name in the bathroom turns on the shower to drown us

out.



     "What a night," says Kaja, still laughing.



     "Yes," I reply, slowly sitting up, pushing back my tousled

hair from my face, and eye her with knowing greed. She is still

flushed from fucking, her own long hair a tangled riot of red-gold

curls on her shoulders. I lean forward to leer, "And *you* haven't

even come yet."



     She smiles at me. Slowly.



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