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A Taste of Sabine
Mariana was evidently done with her tale of photographing her friend Sabine making love to Dac. She lay back on the couch, a satisfied expression on her face. "I'm seriously jealous," I said.
Mariana frowned. "No you're not. You only think you are. You think you might enjoy such goings on, but in reality you wouldn't want to make love to Sabine."
"I wouldn't?"
"No, because you'd worry that by doing that, even if I approved, even if I encouraged you, you'd diminish our relationship. I'm not saying you don't want to experience her, in some sense. I'm not saying you don't want to know the intimate Sabine, what she sounds like when she's coming, what she tastes like and smells like and feels like. I'm not saying that you don't want the thrill of fucking her brains out, of making her come like she's never come before, but all those desires are strictly theoretical. You're a one woman man, and I'm your woman."
I let this sink in for a moment. "You think so, huh?"
"I know so. If I asked Sabine to come over and take part in a threesome, you'd worry. And if it actually happened, much as you might enjoy it at the time, you'd feel bad about it afterwards."
"I would?"
"Want to find out?"
I took a breath. I found I was unable to answer.
"See?" Mariana said.
"Do you think I'm weak that way?"
"Oh no. I love you for it."
"And you don't feel bad when you do all these things with other people?"
"I don't. I love it. And I know you love it, too, even though it hurts you, because more than anything you want me to be happy. You delight in my adventurousness, even if it means you have to share me in some ways."
"I do want you to be happy."
"So that's settled."
"Right," I said. And then I added, "but what does Sabine taste like?"
Mariana chuckled. "You're funny. Here's something I didn't tell you. After Dac finger-fucked her to orgasm, after he laid her on the little velvet ottoman to recover, he stepped over to me, and with a hint of wickedness in his eyes, he put his cunty fingers in my mouth. Mmmm." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if remembering.
"And?" I prompted.
She smiled. "I don't have the words for it. But if you really want to know what Sabine tastes like, you'll have to taste her for yourself." And she smiled again.
"Was that the first time you'd tasted her?" I asked.
She considered the question before answering. "Actually no. There was this time when we were school girls. We were at her grandmother's house, actually, a sleep-over. Sabine lived with her grandmother while her parents were overseas. It was late and Sabine's grandmother had gone to bed. We were in our nighties playing in the living room, riding the furniture, pretending the arms of the armchair were horses. We were each on one arm, having a race. It was fun, and we knew the race was going to end up in a tie, no matter how hard we rode, but at one point the chair almost toppled over. 'Be careful,' Sabine said, "or you'll knock over the love seat.'
"'Love Seat,' I teased, 'Is that the name of your horse?'
"'It is,' Sabine declared. 'Would you like to ride her?'
"'I don't know,' I said. 'What if she bucks me off?'
"'She won't,' Sabine said. 'Not if you pet her first.'
"'Okay,' I said.
"So Sabine perched upon the cushioned back of the settee, and I knelt cross-wise below and lay my head on the inside of her thigh, and I petted her love seat, and then I nuzzled it with my cheek, and then I kissed it and licked it and tasted it. Oh, Sabine's love seat was so lovely, pink and damp and ever so plush. She giggled and squealed and then gasped when I pushed my tongue in, and it was as if she were trying to buck me off, but I knew she just wanted me to ride her harder, more and more and more, and I did, I rode her into a galloping frenzy of bucking and a roiling ocean of gushing. So wet she was, so wet she made me, that I almost drowned.
Then we embraced and kissed and scampered up to bed and fell asleep in each other's arms."
That was enough for me. I picked her up and carried her off to bed. Not too long later while we were fucking, I wondered at the truth of Mariana's conclusions. Was it that I was averse to risk, or was it that I loved her in a wholly exclusive way? But those thoughts quickly gave way to the overwhelming sensations she engendered, physical, mental, and spiritual, and I lost myself fully within her.
story and illustrations by Mat Twassel |
