I Am Beauty free porn video

I AM BEAUTY By Katharine Sexkitten I was two months shy of eighteen that August day, when the fair was open. The day my life changed forever. A yearly event that lasted for a month, the fair had rides, games, food, a circus, and some lesser visited carnival type booths, with fortune tellers and freak show stuff. I was there with my first serious girlfriend, a lovely human being named Jill. I'd known her for years, as the girlfriend of an buddy of mine, and had come to know her as a cool friend at parties and completely unavailable. But then she broke up with Tom, and after a couple of weeks of cooling off she called me and asked me out. She was two years older than me. An experienced woman, if you know what I mean. She was vibrant and full of life and had a beaming smile on her 5'8" frame, small-breasted and big-hipped but the first to introduce me to sex and therefore the absolute love of my life. Well, truth be told, the first to introduce me to sex with someone else. I was a teenage male. I masturbated daily, and had been since I could remember. I had always played with my genitals as a child, in private. I just absolutely knew that it was pure and utter pleasure. I loved it. I learned early on to climax, but I didn't actually ejaculate until I was probably twelve or thirteen. That radical change in the experience became the guiding light of my teen life. The first time I shot white gloppy goo up my torso my eyes nearly left my head. But something told me that whatever it was, it was from within me and must be good, so I automatically scooped it up and ate it. I had no idea that "normal" men weren't supposed to do that, in contemporary morals. I loved it. Cum was warm and slightly salty and reminded me of almonds, and I always felt warmer inside after I'd eaten it. Which I did, every time. I had friends, I had school, I occasionally partied with the boys on the weekend with someone's Dad's beer, or other liquors as we could get them. We'd find a quiet place near the water, or in a park, or the field behind the elementary school and drink and smoke doobies and tell lies about girls. I was an average kid, looks wise. Barely five-nine, maybe one thirty in weight. I had good skin though, no zits, and I tanned easily, and I got a lot of sun with my running when I'd be wearing just a tank top and shorts, my long hair in a ponytail. I'd fooled around with girls during my teens. Made out with a bunch, managed to get to second base with a few, slid into third a couple of times, but I'd never hit the home run. Until Jill. My first time was awesome, for me. Not so much for her, since I didn't last very long. But then, I simply slid down and started licking my cum from her pussy. And that act, along with my "Olympic-level" pussy eating (as she described later on) sent her over the moon with orgasms. After that, she always got oral sex from me after I'd cum in her. She loved it. I loved it. It worked. I wasn't the world's biggest kid, cock-wise, nor had any stamina to ever last longer than a minute or so. I was never into team sports, but I loved running everything from short track to marathons, and there was almost no fat on me. And I had a big ass. A strong ass, for sure, and legs. And I shaved. Coach at school advised me that runners could get faster times, like swimmers, by being smooth. So I shaved. I wasn't especially hairy, so I didn't have to do it too often. Plus, being smooth also gave me a subtle and yet palpable thrill. A special kind of inner glow. Jill wanted to get her fortune told that sunny day at the fair. We first went to a tent where a gaunt creepy old man read the bumps on our heads. Seriously. We both got some strange and unlikely comments, including in my case the prediction that I would one day be a world- renowned painter. Jill's was that she would study something to do with medicine and soon save starving children in Africa or Central America or somewhere hot. We then went to a tarot reader, who told us completely different things. Then we had our tea leaves read, by a wizened old Chinese woman. Her scant English, pretend or not, sent Jill and I in yet two more wildly unusual directions. The sign on the next small tent advertised "Svetlana - Russian Empath". We went in. Svetlana was seated behind a small card table, covered in a dark satin cloth. One chair was set up opposite her. One overhead light bulb, barely illuminating the center of the tent. She looked up at us with a look that told me she had been doing this all day, and couldn't wait to get her shift over. She had grey streaks in her otherwise dark thick curly hair. She had that Russian bone structure in her face that made me believe that while she was probably not from the old country, she definitely had that blood somewhere back in her family. Her feint smile was rehearsed and down pat and entirely stale. It was the shtick, I suppose. I made her for mid to late fifties, trying to look mid to late forties with a little too much make up. But she had a certain appeal about her nonetheless. Jill sat down in the chair, and paid the money. Svetlana tucked the ten dollar bill into a small drawer on her side of the table and then reached over and took one of Jill's hands in hers. She dropped her head, and closed her eyes, and made the appropriate heavy breathing sounds necessary to convey that she was going deep into a trance, communing with the spirits. Then she began intoning foreign words, some of them sharp and guttural, but none of which I recognized. Then she raised her head, looked at Jill for a moment and ran into a spiel about tragedy in past lives and sickness in the family and despair for generations but that Jill would rise above all that somehow and succeed at something unnamed and unknown. Generic, tell-them-stuff-that-sounds-intriguing patter. I didn't believe a word of it, because none of it seemed believable. But it was entertaining, I'll give her that. Jill seemed to enjoy her time, so she thanked Svetlana and got up. Svetlana glanced at me, as if I was next. I said that I was just there to watch, there to be with Jill, as her boyfriend, and I hadn't intended on a reading, but thanks for the offer. She studied me, her eyes concentrating on me with a laser-like focus. It felt like she was now suddenly actually looking at me, seeing me, for the first time. A look came over her face, a look that I couldn't place, and while I wasn't put off by it or bothered by it, I was intrigued as to what it meant. "I read you for free," she said sternly, in her Slavic accent. I looked at Jill, who smiled at me and said, "Go ahead babe, get a reading for free!" Svetlana nodded, as if to encourage me. I was trying to find a reason to say no, but I couldn't think of one at that moment. So I gave up, and sat down. For a moment she studied me even further, now that we were physically closer. Her gaze was fixed, stark, and vivid. It was intense. I saw intrigue, and curiosity, followed by perhaps acceptance and approval. Of what, I had no idea. Jill moved to stand behind me, and I put my right arm on the table. Svetlana began to reach for my hand, and then stopped. Without taking her eyes off me, she moved her head up to face Jill. "I do this reading in private, my dear." "Alright," Jill said, as she reached up and squeezed my shoulders, "I'll be waiting outside." And then she left the tent. Leaving me with Svetlana. Who continued to stare at me with the most intense and focussed look I've ever seen from anyone. Then she reached out both her hands, and motioned for me to take them in mine. As our skin touched, her eyelids fluttered as she sharply took in a breath, her upper body snapped up straight, and through her off-the-shoulder peasant blouse I saw her nipples grow to large nubs before my eyes. Her nostrils suddenly flared as she emptied her lungs in a slow steady and somehow sexy sigh. And I felt things too. A warmth flowed through me that I had never felt before and couldn't explain. But I knew instantly that I liked it. A lot. It was the most overwhelming combination of fiery passion, languid rapture, and consuming hunger. For what, I couldn't tell, but I knew it was for something I really wanted more of. Then her eyes snapped open, and bore down on me. "I tell you truth, yes?" I nodded my ok. "My name not Svetlana. That is show-biz name. My real name is Angeliqua. I learn as child that I have ability to listen to other people's thoughts, to hear their souls. Some better than others. Some not much at all. In this tent, many come in that are hard to listen to, to read. So I create sometimes, yes?" I understood. I expected as much. I was just surprised someone in the business of doing it would actually admit it. "People want to have fabulous future, or know about past lives. Many people, most people, have quiet ordinary common souls. Hard to read. So I entertain them with stories. Sometimes the stories have some truth, because sometimes I do get hint of spirit vibrations, and I hear a little. But most people are very quiet. Their souls are barely a whisper. That make it hard for someone in my, um, line of work. You see?" I nodded, quickly glancing down to see her nipples were still very erect. When I looked up, she was smiling at me in a way I knew meant she'd seen me, that she totally expected it, and that she totally and completely wanted it. "But once in while, someone come to my tent who has soul that sings loud, louder than an orchestra. Certain people sing so loud that all the details of past and future become clear to me, become known to me. I hear everything, all the notes of their soul, deep in my soul." She smiled at me, softer now. "Like most people you are sceptic, no?" I nodded again. Our hands were still holding each other, and I noticed that both of us were also gently massaging the other in subtle motions. It was intimate, and made my heart sing. "You think all these tent people are fake, phony. Just a show, yes?" I nodded again. She laughed. "Most are, to tell truth, but you not hear that from me." I laughed. "My lips are sealed." Then her face became serious. "Most are. But not all. There are some of us who are real. We feel what others cannot feel. We hear what most cannot hear. We see in dimensions common souls cannot understand. I said sometimes I tell stories because I want you to know that I am honest. No lies. I am real." I said the only thing I felt. "I believe you." "So know this," she continued, as she gripped my hands more fiercely, and her voice became chillingly biting, "your soul is loudest soul I ever hear. Ever. I spend years meeting common souls, tens of thousands every year. They pay me, I tell them what I can. My whole life I wonder if I ever get chance to meet someone like you." Which stunned me. I was taken aback. My eyes opened wide, my mouth agape, my breathing coming in staccato fashion. Then she intertwined her fingers in mine, in a manner that suggested familiarity and affection. "My darling, you are most rare of creatures on this planet. The rarest, in fact. Your soul is as old as the ages. It is pure, it is glowing, it radiates an energy that shines as great as the sun." My shocked voice barely registered above a whisper. "Me?" She nodded, with the glow of a mother showing immense love and pride in her child. "You are beauty." I said nothing. I couldn't speak. All of my brain, all of my thoughts, were swirling. Did she say 'beauty'? Me? I thought it absurd, unimaginable, strange, impossible even. And yet there was one part of my brain that kept repeating the words "what if". Me? "But..." She let that hang for a few seconds. She had my rapt attention. I was almost shaking with anticipation of what the 'but' could mean. "But you must still make the crossing." Then she let go of my hands. Her face hardened. She'd reached some limit, perhaps. Something that was making her end it. I sputtered. "Crossing? What does that mean? Like crossing a bridge or something?" She shook her head, her lips shut tight. She gave me a look that told me our session was over. "Svetlana, please," I begged, "what do you mean I must still make the crossing?" She shook her head again, pushed her chair back and stood up, turning to move towards the back exit tent flap. Then she stopped, and turned to look at me again. The maternal smile came back. "You are beauty. And you must still make the crossing." Then she left. Jill bugged me off and on the rest of the day about what Svetlana had said to me. I kept telling her that it was gibberish. Nonsense. Inane. I'd spend about six months with Jill, and then we quietly went our separate ways. She wanted different things in life than I, and we promised to always be good friends. During that half year together I was never able to make her cum once with my five-incher, not once, and even with as much practice as she'd give me (and she liked sex, so she gave me a lot!) I could never last more than three or four minutes. I was a failure at being that kind of lover. But I always made her cum with my mouth. And because she was pretty open and slightly kinky, we occasionally experimented with sexy things that titillated us. We went to a porn shop a few times and browsed. She bought a dildo for her and a cock-ring for me. It didn't help me much. We went to a local theater and watched porn on the big screen. We'd heard stories of sexy things happening in the audience, but we never did see anything. She liked public sex. She enjoyed the thrill of potentially getting caught. We would be in all sorts of different places and she'd tell me she wanted me to eat her pussy, right there and then. Bus stops, parks, under the baseball stands, in cars, in the mall. One morning when I'd slept at her place we were getting ready to go out for breakfast and I lamented that my underwear was yesterdays she casually reached into a dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of panties, tossing them at me. When I sputtered an objection that I couldn't wear girls clothes she just looked at me seriously and told me I had a more feminine ass than she did, and I would look great in panties. Then she grabbed her IPhone and told me she'd prove it. She told me to put the thong on, and then posed me in a certain way, up on my toes. Then she took a pic with her phone. Then she showed me the pic. Goddamn! She was right. I had a great ass! I mean, a feminine ass, for sure. Curved, rounded, and tapering to hips. Really sexy! After that, I wore panties when she asked me, sometimes hers after she'd worn them. Or she'd wipe them on her pussy after I'd made her gush with my lips and tongue, and then beg me to wear them. It didn't take too long before she didn't have to beg. She told me over and over again how I was the best oral sex giver she'd ever had, and when we finally agreed to break up and part as friends she did laughingly say that she was going to miss my mouth the most of all. I was going to a local college by day, studying marketing, and working part-time at a Starbucks. And being visited by Svetlana in my dreams. Off and on. The first time was the night after I met her. She was the most vivid and real dream I'd ever had, one that had me writhing in passion and cumming harder than I'd ever cum. Globs and globs of delicious cum all over my torso when I woke up, and all I remembered of the dream was that I saw her face, she told me again that I was beauty, and I had never wanted anything more in my life than for that to be true. A few nights later, she visited me again. And then a few nights after that. Each dream became all the more real, and vivid, and striking, and significant to me. Each one became longer and longer, and each dream was Svetlana telling me that I was beauty, and then pouring her intense feelings of passion and fire and desire all over me, infusing me with a kind of spiritual euphoria that I had never known. I eagerly awaited her visits as time went on. Every time she visited me in the night, because of my dreams, I would cum harder than before. They were gut- wrenching, toe-curling, mammoth, championship orgasms. And I always ate the cum, of course. And it seemed to me my cum was getting more and more delicious as time went on. One day I was looking in the back of a dresser drawer for something and found my cock-ring, and the dildo that Jill had bought at the porn shop. I ignored the cock-ring, since it really didn't do much for me, but I pulled out the dildo instinctively. I don't know why. But just holding it, by the base, made my heart beat much faster. Eight inches, shaped in every way to look like a real penis, with veins and grooves, and black as coal. And the solid base also had balls, cut in half of course to be flat with the base of the cock. I settled down on my mattress and just held it. Looking at it. Marvelling at its girth. Thrilled by the naughtiness of it. Leaning closer to it and smelling it, sensing the odor of Jill's pussy still lingering on it. And I realized I was salivating. My mouth was almost filling with saliva, I was swallowing again and again. I began to stroke it, gently, almost with no contact between my skin and the dildo, slowly building my pressure, until I was smoothly and vigorously stroking it. My mouth continued to be a river, and without thinking about it I leaned down and enveloped the head of the dildo in my mouth, my tongue quickly slipping back and forth along the underside. For a few moments, I bathed that cockhead with love. I could feel my saliva running down the shaft as I took more and more of it into my mouth. It was slick with my spit and tasted lightly like pussy and was sending me into a sexual stratosphere I'd never even considered before. Then I had the most wicked thought, more wicked and sexy and naughty than everything in the past. What would it be like to have this magnificent example of cock in me? To push this gigantic black penis- shaped thing into my core? To slowly and sensuously mount it, sliding down further and further until it completely disappeared inside me and then hypnotically bounce up and down on it? So I did. Any worries I might have had briefly about discomfort or pain or what something that big would do to my insides disappeared the microsecond the tip of that dildo touched my pussyhole. I took a long deep breath in, calmed my nerves, and while holding the dildo from behind me simply sat on it, one glorious inch at a time, all the way until it was seated fully, completely inside me, reshaping my channel, and filling me with a rapture more than I'd ever thought humanly possible. My orgasm that day was the biggest of all. Earth-shattering, mind-blowing, total loss-of- consciousness kind of cumming. I saw her face, at the height of my cum. Svetlana, her smile a thousand miles wide in the sky as I rode that cock, my hips and bum moving in sync rhythmically, riding the pretend cock, until my soul lit up like phosphorous and burnt brighter than anything ever has before. I still ran as much as I could. 5k's, 10 k's. The occasional marathon. Most of my weekday runs were early in the morning, before school, and I usually ran the trails around the university. They were well-built, well-maintained, generous in width, and most times not busy. Running just after the sun has come up was Zen-like for me, and I reveled in it. Plus, it kept my ass in great shape. Curvy, roundish, and to my mind very sexy. And I used to study my ass for hours in the full-length mirror in my crappy one bedroom apartment. Sometimes I'd slip a pair of Jill's panties on too. They made my ass look amazing, and they made me feel happy, in a way I'd never felt before. One day while running I heard footsteps behind me, at first feint and slowly getting louder. Another runner, I presumed, and someone a little faster than me. So I prepared myself to get passed, and moved over to the side of the track to give them room. As the footfalls became louder, and almost behind me, I heard a slightly-winded masculine baritone voice say "On the left, Miss." As he passed on my left, I glanced in his direction, as he side-glanced at me. And in just an instant, I saw his look change from leering to slight bafflement to embarrassed in a matter of seconds. He suddenly came to a halt, ending up about five paces in front of me, so I came to a halt as well. He was winded, and so his words came out in gasps and pants. "I...um....I'm so sorry...I should....uh....I'd like to...apologize...if I...um...offended you...by calling you...you know...miss." I was also winded, but not to his degree. "Oh, that's...no worries...I..." "No," he said, "no...it was wrong...I...it's just...that..." "That... what?" "Uh...", he continued, "that...um...well, you know...with your hair in the ponytail and....and..." My guess was he was in his early forties. About six feet tall, in good shape. Tanned, but not overly. He wore a tank top and shorts, same as me, both of which fit him like a glove, although mine were tighter. His hair was brownish, with a little grey thrown in for class, and cut short. He had a sort of George Clooney-ness about him. Charming smile, which he was flashing between words, piercing blue eyes which seemed to glow if they happened to catch ambient sunlight, a strong set of legs which propelled him at a seriously fast pace, and an aura about him that instantly hit me as attractive. A man. Attractive. These were not words that I had previously ever thought of. He tried to find his words. "Um...and, well...I hope I don't offend you even more here when I say that...um, from behind, your...your...backside looks very....you know...has a feminine....um...shape, I suppose..." Then he turned a little red. "Um...you know, not that I was specifically staring at it. But at the risk of being slugged...um, you have a great ass." Which made me smile more than I ever had before. My cheeks have never moved like that, so open and wide and genuinely happy. "Thank you, I guess." He just looked at me. After a long pause he started to turn, as if getting ready to begin running again. Then he turned back. "Please tell me I haven't totally offended you? Please? I won't be able to enjoy the rest of my run if you don't forgive me." I giggled. Well, I laughed, but I think it might have come out as a giggle. That's how I was feeling. "There's nothing to forgive, but thank you. And no, I'm not offended at all. Surprised, maybe, but not offended." He smiled. "Why would you be surprised?" "What do you mean?" "Well, c'mon," he said, "surely to god you've looked at yourself in the mirror. I mean, again, I have no wish to offend you, but you've got to know that you have a gorgeous ass. That part should come as no surprise." Then he smiled even more. Then we just stared at each other for a few moments. Finally, he reached down to his wrist to start his timer again. "Anyway, once again, forgive me if I offended you, and I hope you have a great day. And thank you." I was slightly taken aback. "Thank me? For what?" His smile became a leer. "Because I'm going to have the greatest day ever with the mental image of your fantastic ass in my head." And then he was gone, running back in the direction that he'd come from. The trail was a giant circuitous route, so we passed each other twice, each running in the others opposite direction. The first smile I got from him made my heart skip a beat. The second one made me almost run off the trail and into a tree. I managed to save myself, but in looking backwards, hoping against hope that he hadn't noticed, he had turned his upper body slightly and was looking at me, while continuing to run forward. Not the safest for him either. His smile was a mega-nova. A serious million-watt beacon, aimed at no one on this entire planet but me. He stopped, and breathily asked, "Are you okay?" I stopped, and while still panting said "Uh-huh." The smile remained aimed at me. "Great. As we passed I thought...you might have tripped or something. Sorry, I didn't mean to stare...I was just kinda looking in my peripheral at you, and it seemed like you might have fallen." "I'm fine, thank you," I answered, my breath slowly returning to normal. "Mmm," he whispered, his smile still melting everything in its path. "Fine indeed." We just stood and smiled at each other, each of us with our hands on our hips and alternatingly kicking out our legs, to keep the muscles active and the blood flowing, like runners do whenever they've stopped moving. I couldn't help myself. I scanned him from head to toe, and back again, from about ten feet away. Great eyes, killer smile, buff pecs and arms, a little hint of a dad belly, a fantastic thick hard lump in his shorts, getting bigger by the second, tanned strong thighs that just seemed to suggest masculinity and finally down to his feet, noticing his designer label expensive runners. Then back up again. The second time I noticed that the thick hard lump in his shorts was still growing, definitely getting thicker and lumpier. As we stood there, just looking at each other. His cock, which I now knew was large, was becoming mammoth right in front of me. Then the sensible part of my brain yelled at me to stop looking at another man's crotch. So I snapped my attention back up to his eyes. Which were smiling at me. Even more than before. "Well," he said, checking his watch, "I have a meeting, so I'll be on my way now. You take care." One more smile at me, and he turned and ran off. I couldn't run. I couldn't move. I was stuck to that spot. The only thing I could think of was that meeting him made me feel almost the same kinds of tingles and waves of joy that my occasional visits from Svetlana produced. Certainly not exactly the same, since I hadn't had a massive orgasm. But looking down I noticed that I was hard. In my jogging shorts. Erect. Turgid. Stiffer than steel. All five inches of it. I felt as alive as a person could feel. That night, my visit with Svetlana was different. She still called me 'beauty', but this time she didn't tell me I had to make a crossing. This time she asked me if I was ready to make my crossing. Because, and I'll never forget this as long as I live, she added, "It is soon my darling. Soon. You will make the crossing, and then you will fulfill your destiny." I looked for my mystery man with a keen eye the next few times I ran. I made sure to be on the same trail, at the same time. Every single day. But I spent a week in disappointment. Which, I must confess, confused me. I was disappointed every morning, and slightly dejected. But why? Over a man? Why a man? And why that man? I'd never thought of men like that before. He was handsome, and charming, and sexy, yes. I was attracted to him. I got that. I wanted him to like me, I realized. For some reason that I couldn't explain, I was sad in a small way. Just the thought of not getting to see that smile again light up the urban forest made me sad. And then exactly one week after I first saw him, my life got better. I was two months shy of nineteen, and it was the first day of this year's fair. I made sure to be there on opening day. I made my way through the park, to the back, where the 'weird' stuff was, and searched with trepidation as to whether the same vendors would be there again. Well, one specifically. I saw the greenish-brown tent from fifty yards away, and the little hand-painted sign that said "Svetlana - Russian Empath". I practically ran to the opening of the tent, and darted inside. It was the same dark and gloomy space as last year, with just one light bulb hanging from the ceiling. There were maybe eight or ten people inside, including one seated opposite Svetlana. I moved quietly behind the crowd and settled in the far corner of the tent, where it was the darkest. I could just see Svetlana through the head and shoulders of a few of the other people. Her head was down, as if she was praying. She had the hand of a young woman in hers, and she was doing the quick-breathing part of her show. I knew the next step was the slow voicing of words from some foreign language, as she'd done for Jill. Svetlana looked the same as the last time I'd seen her in person. Today she was wearing a lilac-colored blouse, buttoned at both wrists and what looked like a full-length ruffled cream-coloured skirt. Her hair was a mane, dark and flowing and wild. She looked like a gypsy, with huge hoop earrings and rings on every finger. From my angle, I could see her considerable bosom, heaving up and down with her exaggerated breathing. I realized that I wanted to see her nipples again, and as that thought formulated in my mind, her back straightened, her breath stopped with a gigantic intake, and two lumps suddenly appeared in her blouse. Bigger than I'd seen them before. And I could make out the outline of her areolas through the satiny material covering them, big round circles supporting nipples that were meaty and distended and large enough to hang your coat on. Her head shot up, her eyes closed, and she moaned. A long loud husky- voiced guttural sort of noise, that could only be interpreted as pleasure. The crowd was dead quiet, and I quickly scanned some of the faces of the crowd, all of whom were riveted to Svetlana. Some were enjoying it, others not so much. I could only smile. She took a few seconds to gather her wits. She let go of the hand she held and looked at her client and said, "I cannot read you now. Keep money, of course. I try again later, if you want, but not now. You must all go. Everyone, leave the tent." Some annoyed and unhappy faces followed, but they all left the tent. As they did, she walked the last one out and then closed the tent flap, tying it up so no one could enter. She hadn't looked at me, or even in my direction, nor did she as she walked back to her side of the table and sat down in her chair again, staring straight ahead. I wondered if she knew I was even there. She took a few moments to compose herself. "Come out of the shadows," she whispered. I made my way to the table, and sat down opposite her. I had a smile of my face. "You saw me come in the tent?" "No," she replied, "I feel you arrive on fairground, from far away. I sense you coming to see me." I was surprised. "You felt me?" "You are beauty. You have soul that burns like sun. I feel you from far away. I know you would be here." "I can't even imagine having the kind of power you have, Svetlana," I responded. "This ability to see and feel others peoples souls, this power you have to visit me in my dreams." I was being honest with her. "I don't know how you do it, but it has shaken me to my core, and I need to talk to you, and find out..." "Did you enjoy that?" she asked. "Enjoy what?" She looked me in the eyes and smiled. "You know exactly what you do. You make Svetlana cum, just now. So you enjoy doing that in front of all those people?" Her words shocked me. "I made you cum? How did I do that? I was over in the corner of your tent, I never touched you." Svetlana reached over and took my hands in hers. We both felt the heat and almost electric charge move between us. "You are beauty. You have power." "Power? What power?" I couldn't grasp what she meant. "You are beauty. Beauty is physical. Beauty is spiritual. Beauty is sensual. Beauty," she paused for effect, "is sexual. All beauty is sexual. And that is power. You see?" I didn't. Not fully. But more and more, my mind was opening to her ideas. "No, Svetlana," I said, and then stopped, and then started again, "I mean Angeliqua. I mean, I get it that you think I'm special in some way, but I don't understand why. Why me? Am I that different than everybody else? I don't think so. I'm just a guy, I'm just me." She grabbed my hands harder, to get my attention. Her nipples were still very hard in her blouse, still two points of noticeable joy on her chest. "You are beauty." I nodded. "You keep saying that. Here, and in my dreams. But what does that mean?" "Your soul...it is beauty. Everybody have soul, yes?" I nodded my agreement. "Some are new souls, most are not. Most souls are ordinary, yes? Common. Average. Hard for me to hear, most of time. Common not bad, or wrong, by the way. Common is common. Billions of souls in universe, billions are common. No bad, just common. Yes?" "Sure." "But some souls are very old. Yours is one of oldest. Your soul is different than most. As I tell you, I wonder my whole life whether I ever get to meet soul such as yours. I feel your soul in my dreams." I was amazed. "Really? Does that mean you are beauty too?" She laughed, a celebratory one. "No, no, sweet child, no," she beamed, "my soul is common, like most everyone else. But all common souls are not same. Some are very common, quiet, almost silent. Some are common but have strong sense of feeling, like me. I have ability to hear other peoples souls, I tell you this, yes?" I nodded. "I am Empath, like on sign outside tent. I feel, more than most common souls, but truth is my soul common too." "Then I don't understand..." "You are beauty. You have kind of soul that sings loud, sings loudest. Your soul, and few others like you, operate at higher level. Your soul sings loudest, your soul is meant to be heard, and felt, by as many common souls as possible. I can. Some others too, even though we are common souls. But most common souls cannot feel to your level. They cannot do it. They will never understand that they can't, which is saddest part. They will never truly understand that you are special, yes? That you are unique. YOU are a precious bird, singing every second of day, the most beautiful melody. Like all melodies, must be played on musical instrument, yes? Your melody is played by an instrument as well. You understand?" I shook my head. "You are beauty," she sighed, holding my hands tighter, "your instrument is your body, and the fire of love and lust that burns inside you. For anyone, no, everyone, to appreciate, as you alone desire. You are....you...are..." Holding my breath, I was on pins and needles about what she was about to say. I don't know why, but I sensed that it would be the most important thing I'd ever heard. "You are hermaphrodite." The shock was most visceral. I ripped my hands out of hers, and physically reeled backwards, getting ready to stand and leave the tent as a reaction to her words. Such was my anger. What did she just call me? A freak? "What are you talking about, Svetlana?" I sputtered. "I'm not like that. I'm a man. I don't have the sex parts of a girl." "The two greatest lovers our universe has ever seen were Hermes and Aphrodite. The gods of physical love. You have heard of them?" I nodded, because I had heard the names. "They both have lived forever, every second of every day for history of entire universe with one purpose, one goal, one desire, and one plane of consciousness. The highest plane. The plane of beauty. What did I say beauty was?" I recalled her words instantly. "Beauty is physical. Beauty is spiritual. Beauty is sensual. Beauty is sexual. All beauty is sexual. And that is power." "Yes, sweet angel, yes," she whispered, "YOU are love child of the two greatest sexual lovers in history. Hermes is your father, and Aphrodite is your mother. Combine two souls, that is true meaning of word. Not freak show interpretation society has now. Hermes, and Aphrodite. Combine them." She paused, waiting for me to say it to myself in my head. "Hermaphrodite. Your soul is from them. It is of them. Your soul is most beautiful combination of them. Your soul is, amongst all their children, the soul they love the most. I feel it." A short silence sat between us. Our eyes never left the others, and our hands were clasped again, fingers intertwined. Intimate. "You are beauty." I nodded, because for some reason I was starting to find some acceptance. I realized I couldn't call it understanding, at least not yet. But something inside me was telling me to give this marvelous woman's words a great deal of credence. "Are you ready to make your crossing?" I came down a little from the spiritual level of thinking, and searched her eyes for some clue. I still didn't know, after a full year, what she meant by crossing, despite it being the only thing I'd thought about, day and night, for three hundred plus days. "But how? I don't even know what you mean by crossing." She smiled. Then she let go of my hands, and hers moved to the top button of her blouse. Without breaking eye contact with me, she undid it, and then the next one down, and the next one, slowly and sensuously exposing her bosom to me. I could see there was no bra. Finally she reached the bottom button, after she'd pulled the blouse out from under the top of her skirt. Then she slowly unbuttoned the two at her cuffs, and then as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do, she slid the blouse off her shoulders, exposing herself to me. Her breasts were magnificent. Hanging perfectly on her chest, with no hint of a sag despite what I had assumed about her age. Just perfect orbs. Rounded in all the right ways, with rosy-red dollar-sized areolas, and two reddish-brown nipples bigger than hard rock candies. I'm sure I moaned my approval. All my sensual and sexual sensibilities were racing, all of them changing from barely glowing embers to red hot coals to outright fire, raging fiercely inside me seeing her this way. I wanted to latch onto one of those nipples and suckle her passion and femininity and sensuality, taste the milk of her soul. Then she stood up, leaned over slightly, gathered the bottom hem of her skirt, and began lifting, showing me first her shins, and then thighs, and then, much to my elation, her crotch. She wasn't wearing panties. It was right there, in front of me. Her pussy. She was displaying no false modesty, no bravado. She was showing me herself. Giving herself to me, with trust and honesty, with grace, and pride. She had a little patch of hair above her pussy, otherwise she was smooth all over down there. Her outer labia was indeed aroused and puffed and spread, making her vagina look like the open petals of the most exotic flower. And what made it even more sexy was that it was plainly obvious this woman was aroused. Her lips were moist, and glistening, and I could see the drops of nectar shining on them. And on the insides of her thighs. And a few big drops on the tops of her thighs. She was a sprayer, I immediately understood. My eyes returned to hers. "You like to make me cum in tent full of stangers? This is how I cum. For you. All over myself." "But how did I make you cum? From over there?" I nodded to the back corner. She sat down. "With your soul." I couldn't see her pussy anymore, but her gorgeous breasts were right there in front of me, hanging over her side of the table. She took my hands in hers again, squeezed them, and said, "Make me cum. Again. Do it. Not by actually fucking me. No. Make me cum with your soul." I was about to ask how I was supposed to do that, when, as if a light bulb had suddenly been switched on, I just knew how. It was like, ok, yeah, well of course, here's how you do it. We locked eyes, and I started thinking about my face being down between her legs, and gently planting soft kisses on the insides of her knees, eliciting a real "ooooooooooooh" from her mouth. She could feel it! So in my mind I continued. I placed kisses gradually further and further up the insides of her thighs, soft gentle lip smacking kisses, and when on occasion my mind saw my lips meeting one or more of the drops of cum from her first orgasm, my mind would gleefully lick them up, savoring their feminine tang. An elixir! I realized my cock was hard. Hard as rock. Harder than it had ever been. Her eyes closed slowly. She was softly moaning, in that low husky feminine voice. She started breathing harder. Those fantastic tits in front of me were moving up and down more and more. My mind brought my lips close to her pussy now, and I saw myself playfully blowing a short blast of the coolest air I could make directly over her clit. Her reaction was real. And real loud. "Oh fuck me," she almost screamed, "make me cum, sweet angel, make me cum." Her upper body was shaking. Her lower body must have been as well, because although I couldn't see it I could feel the vibrations of her shuddering through her chair and then the cheap plywood floor of the tent. Her hips were working it! My mind's eye view saw me turning my head just slightly, and my tongue more slightly, as I was thrusting it out my mouth and making it vertical and then plunging it inside her pussy lips. One instant penetration, as far as my soul could imagine it to go. "FUCK!" she yelled and arched her back, bringing those fucking amazing tits closer to me in real life. I continued my imaginary tongue-fuck of her sweet pussy in my head while I leaned over quickly, and took her left nipple between my teeth, biting on it just slightly, and then enveloping her entire nipple into my sucking lips and mouth. At that, her whole body started shaking violently. I could barely keep hold of her hands. My mouth was fighting to keep that nipple inside while I bathed it lovingly in my saliva, using my tongue to insistently wipe it again and again, back and forth, over and over. Her gasps were razor-sharp now, and staccato. One after the other, short sharp sucks of air. She had a death-grip on my hands too. And then all the noise stopped, all her breathing stopped, all her movements stopped, and all became quiet. She held herself like a mannequin, nothing moving, her eyelids being the only exception, since they were fluttering. And then the most curious thing happened. In my mind's eye, I could literally taste her pussy juices as she exploded on me. I mean I could actually taste her cunt juice in my mouth, even though all I had in my mouth was her left nipple. I could taste her cum. And cumming she was. Svetlana soaked her legs, and mine too, since the table wasn't really all that wide and our knees were almost touching. She soaked the underside of the table too. Her pussy cum was like the best geyser in Yellowstone. And loud too. I could physically hear her cum spraying. I could hear individual drops of pussy juice striking the bottom of the table, or landing on her smooth thighs, or my pants material. I could smell it, so powerful was her musk. It was gorgeous! And then she was pushing me away, both for real, and in my mind's eye. She couldn't take it any more. It was too much cumming. I lost the nipple from my mouth, and her hands moved to grip the table edge, to give her stability. She needed it. Her breathing slowly returned to normal. I just sat and watched, amazed at her sexual capacity, and bewildered at mine. It took her a couple of minutes to come back down to level ground. Eventually she saw me staring at her. Taking in her eyes, and the way her nostrils flared when she breathed, and the amazing sight of those gorgeous tits just hanging there. "You are beauty," were the first words she said. "You're pretty fucking beautiful yourself, Angeliqua!" Her smile returned, and it was one of thanks and joy and an almost matronly love. We just sat there and stared at each other. One of us was fully-clothed. One of us looked like the most gorgeous example of femininity, half-naked, soft and smooth and curvy and that just-fucked look on her face. Then I had to ask. "Was that the crossing?" She shook her head. "No." I was confused. "So what was that?" She smiled. "That was you taking steps. Baby steps. Towards crossing. Towards understanding power you have. You see?" "Not really," I answered. "Do you mean I have the power to make women cum? Is that my crossing? Because, well, truth be told, I was in a relationship with someone and ..." "Yes," she interrupted, "with Jill. I remember." "Right, with Jill," I continued, "and, well, the thing is, I'm kind of embarrassed to say this, but I just couldn't, you know, make her cum when I was, um, you know, fucking her. So I don't have power. At least, not with her." It was not anything that I'd ever said to anyone, and something that I would be loath to do. To admit such perceived weakness. But for some reason, I trusted Svetlana. She shook her head. "I feel, you know, yes? I have sense of people, yes?" I nodded. "I know you make her cum. Not with cock, yes. But you make her cum, many many many times. And all of them better than the last, for her." "Yeah," I said, "with my mouth, eating her pussy. But not with my cock." My shock gradually registered on my face. "But how do you know that?" "I feel. Yes?" That was her way of reminding me of what should have been a given in the conversation. I nodded to her, to convey that I wouldn't ask more silly questions in that regard. "You are beauty. You are giver of passion, giver of pleasure. Giver of joy. Your crossing will be when you learn how you best give those things. What gives you most pleasure, when you are giving pleasure." "When will that be?" "I cannot say, sweet angel. That is for you to discover. But you will know, when you know. When you cross. You'll know it, and then you will be released forever. Your soul will be open forever. For all to see, for all to appreciate, as when and who you desire. You will be what you were born as, the loudest singer, the brightest sexual light, the true child of the magnificent Hermes and Aphrodite. Their favorite child, their favorite soul, one they created through their love and sex. Some children have souls that favor their father, some favor their mother. All are mixtures, yes? Like any child, a blend of the best of the parents? You are the brightest and loudest soul, and what you received from them is that which are their most powerful of traits. Passion. Desire. Hunger. Only you will know what they lead to. Masculine. Feminine. Both. You are the most unique mixture of two. Carried by the human body you have now. It does not matter what combination is, it only matters how you use it. So you must learn, to make your crossing. You must ask yourself what is it that makes you burn brightest." For some reason, I instantly thought of my running man's cock. I could see it, right there in front of me. Close up, and huge, as if I was kneeling between his legs. And naked, which was unexpected because I hadn't ever seen it that way. But there it was. Pulsing with life. Eight and a half inches, uncut, and oozing precum. "When you cross, you will become that which you were born to be. You will become passion, incarnate. "You are beauty." She sat across from me, unabashedly half-naked, and smiled at me. Those fucking amazing jugs almost brazenly thrust at me. I understood our time today to be over, quite naturally, and stood, and moved around the table towards her. Leaning over, I lightly kissed her on the lips. She had big lips, caked in lipstick, and like gentle curved pillows. I kissed her softly. Just barely there. Then I turned and walked to the tent flap, slowly undoing the fabric she'd used earlier to close it. Then I turned back to her. "Angeliqua?" "Yes, my sweet angel?" "I love you." She nodded. "As I love you. And one more thing, sweet sweet angel." I waited. "I did not visit you in your dreams. You visited me. Such is just one part of your power." I smiled. And then, with a ferocity that I didn't know I could muster, my mind's eye swooped down, flattened my tongue and licked her wet dripping pussy, from the bottom near her taint all the way up to her clit, no longer hooded, but standing out like a sentinel. As I moved with lightning speed my tongue gathered up as much cunt juice as it could, which was voluminous after her orgasm. A liquid pool of pussy honey. Then my imaginary lips surrounded her distended clit, and my tongue began a machine-gun rat-a-tat motion on the nub. For real she screamed at the top of her lungs. Absolutely yelled louder than she ever had before. No words, mind you, just an almost- otherworldly shriek. Of joy. She came. In gushes. For real. I could see it in her hip thrusts as she sat on the chair, I could see it in how her skirt was being stained. Again. I could see it in the stuttering spasms of her torso, her swollen glorious breasts bouncing up and down. And I could taste it. For real. From ten feet away. It was divine. And it was copious. I didn't go to my classes that day, or the next. Instead, I spent a bunch of the student loan money I had stashed in a savings account. First, at a lingerie store. I walked in and told the only woman there that I wanted a whole bunch of different pieces, and sexy outfits. She asked me what sizes my girlfriend or wife was. I told her they were for me. She might have been shocked at first, but I instantly shot her a little mind's eye good feeling. Somehow I knew that in real life she absolutely loved being fingered while having her nipples almost chewed on, so I imagined that scenario and sent it to her. I watched her breathing catch and her eyes go glassy for a moment and her nipples get hard through her sweater. I walked out with bags full of the sexiest and divine feminine clothes we could find. I tried many on. They made me feel wonderful. A shoe store was next. The salesman was Asian, perhaps fifty or so, and more than happy to slip stockings up my legs and try a wide variety of feminine shoes on me. About an hour and a half later I walked out with bags full of shoes. Pumps, stilettos, boots, even heeled slippers with feathers across the toe strap. They all made me feel so girly, so feminine, and oh so sexy. I made him feel a sexy glow too. Then I was off to a drug store. The girls in the cosmetics department were more than happy to help me. I told them I wanted to look feminine. Sometimes just a little, and sometimes as much as possible. All I asked is that they show me how to do it, and I would buy all the products. I learned how to give myself smokey eyes. Big luscious cherry red lips. A soft rose-colored blush on my cheekbones. I looked in the mirror and loved myself! Then they recommended I get my ears pierced, which sounded wonderful to me. A short time later I had two piercings in both ears, a small diamond stud in the top hole and a dainty feminine hoop hanging from the other hole. Then for fun I bought some bangles for my wrists, and a few necklaces as well. At the sight of myself fully made up and bejewelled I saw ecstasy! I loved those girls. So I loved them too, each in my mind, and each in their own specific way. They way I sensed they wanted to be loved. I also bought a special piece of equipment to clean myself, inside. My final stop over those two days was a mall. There were lots of clothing stores, but I knew the two I most wanted to visit. The ones whose clothes I most wanted to wear. Ultra-feminine, skirts and dresses and soft blouses and wispy wrap-arounds and scarves and three different purses, which the salesladies recommended. I loved them all! On the next morning, I prepared myself. I was up early. I cleaned myself, inside and out. I shaved my entire body smoother than it's ever been. I painted my toenails, and fingernails. I prepared my apartment, as neat and tidy as it could be. I readied some finger-food and stored them in the fridge. I had a bottle of wine chilling. I had several joints rolled, and puffed a few times on one while I worked. I made sure I had my clothing ready, for when the time came. Wearing my tightest silk running shorts, with the sexiest G-string panty underneath, and the tightest tank-top I owned over a form-fitting sports bra, and with a small amount of makeup on to just hint at a feminine look, I ran to the park. I ran excitedly to the exact point. That specific square foot of that specific trail. My hair was up in a ponytail, so from the back I looked like a girl again. Just in case he appeared from that direction. If he appeared at all. Then I waited. Nervous? No. But curious, for sure. There was no guarantee he'd ever be back this way again. Logic told me that. But I had a sense. I felt wonderful. I wasn't getting any bad vibes at all, just warmth and radiance and joy. I heard him before I saw him. At the sound, I pushed my bum out a little. I aimed it right at him. He saw me. I could tell because while I couldn't see him I could hear his pace slowing. Immediately. YUM! He stopped just behind me, so I turned my torso towards him. I was sticking my tits at him, turned like that, and for a whisper of a moment I wondered what it would be like to have real breasts. When my eyes met his I smiled, the most easy and biggest smile I can remember. So did he. Then we just stared at each other. I fully turned, so he couldn't see my ass anymore. I was standing now with my hands clasped behind my back, my bum still stuck out, my hips slightly rocking. My back was straight and my chest was pointing straight at him and my nipples were huge! In my peripheral I could see them, hard as little pencil erasers, through both my sports bra and my tank top! I was bouncing on my toes too, I realized, and must look even more feminine and girly than I had the first time I'd met him. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. I knew what he was feeling. I told him, wordlessly, spiritually, that I was his, to love and be loved, to fuck, to ravage, to take again and again. He nodded He understood me. I moved to him, my arms coming up to go over his shoulders and around the back of his head, and his arms encircled me around my torso, pulling me to him, each hand sliding down to grab onto an ass cheek. It made me purr. Our lips met. Just lips. Soft, sensuous, satiny. For minutes on end. Our breathing matching the others, both beginning to race. Then our mouths started opening, our kisses becoming more animated, more grasping at the others mouth, with no tongues, just mouths opening and closing and lips never parting, like grouper fishes joined together at the lips. Then he squeezed me even harder, and his tongue began to tease mine. But more importantly, I could feel his cock, hard as granite, hard as steel, as hard and erect as he'd ever been. And it was being ground into me, just above my little cock, which had reached a level of excitement I had never ever experienced. He was using his hands on my ass to grind me into him. He was dry-fucking me in the slowest and sexiest of ways. As our lips consumed each other, time and again. We moved our heads to the other side, from time to time, my hands running through his thick lustrous hair, his hands grasping and squeezing at my ass, kneading it, massaging it, laying claim to it. I planted in both of our heads just a tiny glimpse of joy, a little beam of energy to tide us over, and broke the kiss. I took his hand in mine, his on top, like boyfriend and girlfriend, and began walking with him out of the park and to my apartment. We both had smiles on our faces and lumps in our shorts, his a mountain compared to my molehill, and neither of us cared if anyone saw or not. We were on a journey. When we had to stop, for traffic lights or other pedestrians, our mouths would meet. Sometimes just lips together, softly searching and tasting. Other times full on tongue ballets. Then we were in my building, and in my door. As it closed, he took me in his arms again, and the most erotic of kissing sessions began anew. I was soaring with joy and delight, and the absolutely amazing sense of being home. Being right. Being real. I led him to my living room, and asked him to sit. I lit some candles, and put on some soft music turned down low. I offered him something to drink, and he accepted a glass of the wine. I poured us both one, and took his to him. Then I kissed him softly and told him I'd be a few minutes getting ready. I encouraged him to smoke a joint if he wanted. I smelled the weed as I was getting ready. I quickly applied more makeup, as the girls showed me how, to go from slightly feminine in appearance to full-on slut. Mascara, eyeliner, bright cherry red lipstick, with a gloss too. Then I brushed out my hair to look more flowing. More falling. More cascading. Off came the sports clothes and on went my lingerie. A matching black set, with bra, panty, garter belt and silk stockings. With my makeup I marvelled at how I looked. I looked like I felt. Feminine, sensual, sexual, and slutty. I slipped into a pair of black pumps, no strap, and three inch heels. Sexy and shiny and pointy. YUM! One last look in the mirror, and I was out the door. When I got down the hall and turned the corner, my destiny stood before me. He was standing in the middle of the room. Naked. Waiting for me. His body was tanned and toned and delicious. Masculine. Nothing but. His cock, which I'd seen before in a vision was there, right there. Monumental. Massive. Glorious. Breath-taking. Heart-stopping, mind- altering, consciousness-shattering. My hips swayed as I walked to him. Our mouths met, each consuming the other with abandon. His arms encircled me, enraptured me, enlightened me. His hands found my ass cheeks again, a fingertip sliding underneath the tiny strap of the panty that came up between my cheeks, separating them like a river through a mountain range. He gripped my cheeks and pulled them apart and back together again as his tongue invaded me, possessed me, empowered me. One of his fingers slipped down and found my pussyhole, already lubed and ready. He moaned into my mouth, as his tongue tried to taste my throat and as I sucked on it like a cock. I moaned just as much. He turned me, and threw me down onto the sofa. Then he landed on me, my legs naturally opening to feel his body on mine properly. Like a woman. Like his woman. Like his slut. His lips came down on my neck, searing me with passion and ardor. My arms reached over and I scratched at his back with my fingernails, and began chanting my only thoughts, my only words, my only wants and needs. My mantra. "Take me. Fuck me. Take my pussy. Make love to my pussy. Take me. Give me all your cock. Give it to me. Make me your woman. Take me now. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me." Without stopping the amazing kissing he was giving my neck, he moved his body slightly, and then I felt it. The very tippy tip tip of his massive cockhead, resting against the skin of my anus. My pussy. My center. My very being. I continued to murmur to him. "Yes, my darling. Yes, take me now. Fuck me. Make love to me. Take my pussy. Take it. Fill me with your cock. Fill my pussy with your cock! I want to be impaled on your cock. I want your cock all the way inside my soul! And I want to drown in your cum!!!!! Fuck me! Fuck me! FUCK ME!" He entered me. In one thrust. Completely. One movement. One physical motion, to the utter length of his cock. As far inside me as he could get, and with enough pressure to know that if he could have he would have pushed all of his body inside me. An eight and a half inch long and gloriously-girthy cock, throbbing and vibrant and masculine. Completely and inexorably seated as far as is physically possible inside me. Inside my cunt. My pussy. My body. My core. My being. At that moment, my world went white. I was seared with a light brighter than all the suns combined. It overcame me suddenly. But there was no pain, just abject and total joy. Soon I was enveloped in the light, and it was raising me up and moving me, rushing me through the skies and stars and ether, in a microsecond. I was floating, sailing, soaring. On a rapturous invisible sea of pleasure. Of righteousness. The light began to gradually soften, and diffuse. I could start to see shapes and colors. Before me stood two solid majestic thrones, gleaming white marble everywhere. Then I could see more, and it revealed a body on each throne. On the left a man, blond and bronzed and naked and gloriously impossibly endowed. And erect. A massive cock, throbbing with his pulse. On the right was a woman, long flowing hair, massive and voluptuous breasts heaving, her meaty thighs spread and her cunt on full display, open, inviting, pulsing, and so very deliciously wet. She spoke. "Welcome home, child." Then I looked at him as he spoke. "We have missed you, lovely gurl. It has been too long since our favorite angel made love with us." I looked at her. She smiled and nodded. "Yes, gurl," she said, her voice like the sweetest honey in the world, "your soul has been quiet for millennia. But now you have returned to us. The brightest light in the sky, shining on Daddy and Mommy once again. Our celebrated one. The one we named 'Katharine'. Oh darling one, you don't know how much I've missed you suckling my breasts, feeding on the milk of love and lust I produce, and then eating my heavenly pussy, while your Daddy fucks you with his cock, filling you with our cum, the cum that made you, the cum that propels you, the cum that satisfies you. Of all the planes of consciousness a spirit can attain, that is the highest. Pure sexuality. That is you, my baby. Full of cock and cum, for life. For eternity. To give pleasure to all. All that you want. And Mommy can already tell that you want cock in you every day. Every second. More than pussy. I know my own gurl. It's who you are, Katharine. It's you. You are beauty." Her words didn't shock me, or surprise me. They reinforced what I suddenly already knew. Then everything went bright again. And then softened back to natural light. And I was being fucked. Hard, and fast. And passionately. He was between my legs, his cock slick and pistoning in and out of my asspussy. My cunt. And I was loving it! His eyes were on mine, the most intensely erotic look on his face, his arms on either side of my head, my legs back, my knees almost at my head, my hips raised so I could get the most penetration possible of that which I cherished most. Eight inches plus of glorious man cock, ramming into me over and over again. He was sweating on me, drips of it. And it felt like heavenly rain. His fucking got harder, as mine did back to him. We went on and on and on and on. Then, after what I knew to have been the longest fuck of his life, and certainly mine as well, he screamed out a sound unlike any other I'd heard, a primeval animalistic roar, arched his back, pushed his cock into me the hardest yet, and started spewing his cum up into me. I could feel his movements in my channel, every flex in the skin of his shaft, every ripple of the big vein on the underside of his cock as it vibrated with his rapid-fire pistoning, every random spasmodic movement of that fucking amazing cock as it launched him into Eden. I could feel his sweet cum rocketing out. I could feel it pooling in small recesses of my innards. I could feel the first three shots the most, because they were the biggest. The next two spasms were smaller, and then he had a few more little tremors. None of which compared to the intensity of my orgasm. It was from deep within. It built up inside me, burning like a volcano's flow, spreading throughout every cell of my body. The light came back, nothing but the brightest loudest most insanely penetrating beams of radiant joy and physical pleasure, and washed through me. I heard and felt Mommy and Daddy cumming too. With me. Within me. Around me and through me and all about me. I had made the crossing. A short time later, I was laying with him. His big left arm around me, my head on his left pec. He was lightly snoozing. I had worn him out. I had my silky-smooth stockinged left leg laying over his left leg, and my left hand was gently stroking his cock, which had become amazingly hard again. I could sense that he was more satisfied with a sexual experience than he ever had before, which made me feel complete. Then my mind's eye flashed like a laser beam to wherever in the world Svetlana was, and found her asleep in her bed. I kissed her softly to wake her. She looked up at me, as I was floating above her, and smiled. "I've brought something for you." She looked at me inquisitively. "For me? What you bring for me?" In real time, as I slid down his body and aimed his cock at my mouth, I told her. "This." As I closed my lips over his entire cockhead, feeling the delicious nectar of his precum coating my tongue, my mind's eye made her feel the same things. I heard her mouth open, and her tongue move, and I felt her moan a little at the first tangy morsel hit her taste buds. As I moved more of his shaft into my mouth, it moved into her mouth as well. When I sucked, she sucked. When I licked, she licked. She moaned her delight, so I breathed in for us and then moved further down his cock, sliding that rigid missile of man meat into the back of both of our mouths, and then into both our throats. In real time his breathing went through the roof, and his hand came down on the back of my head. So my mind's eye made sure it came down on the back of her head as well. We both gulped, and gagged, and slobbered and sucked and suckled and slurped on his cock, together, miles apart. He didn't last much longer, probably I suppose from feeling two feminine mouths on his cock, sucking him. When he did cum, I made sure to pull him out of our mouths until just the tip remained, so we could both be filled with his cum, have both of us drown in the delight. And he didn't let us down. Buckets of cum, both of us swallowing and gulping and swallowing again. And both of us moaning. Loudly. When his cum was finally gone, I took us off his wilting cock, and then moved in front of her. My mind's eye saw me softly kissing her, and she kissed me back, and with just the tips of our tongues we traded some cum. "Thank you, Angeliqua," I whispered. "Oh no, thank you," she whispered back. "Look what you do to me once again." My minds' eye scanned down. She'd pushed all the covers off while we were sucking his cock, and when he came she came, her entire lower body and sheets below her just literally covered in cum. There was pussy juice everywhere. She had sprayed like a geyser, some big thick drops, some smaller globules, spread over all her skin. Plus there was a fine mist of cum, still hovering in the air, so I inhaled both lungs full, and moaned softly as these microdrops passed over my tastebuds. Sweet and tangy and oh so delicious!" She was looking at me too. My hair, my makeup, my sexy lingerie, my own orgasm dripping out of my panties in rivers. "You have made the crossing," she said, matter-of-factly. "Yes," I whispered, "thanks to you." "No, my sweet angel," she whispered back, "you would have made crossing someday, without me." "I suppose," I said. "But I'm glad it was you that made me see my true self. I know now what I'm meant to be, what I'm meant to do with my life. What my nature is. What my destiny is." She smiled at me. Proudly. "I know who I am now." She nodded, like she already knew the answer. "I am beauty." THE END.