Escapism The Modern Man
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This Is The Modern WorldChapter 12 free porn video
Tuesday morning I awoke with questions in my head along with relief in my body that I didn't need to awake absurdly early in the morning as I had the day before to rehearse Lindy's dance. Fortunately Nick and the angels except Chanda and Alexandra greeted me and Lindy and our angel lovers with breakfast and smiles. (Lindy had awakened at her usual 6am but quietly remained in bed making love and being made love to by Miwa and Helena. For the first time I actually was thankful not participating.)
"In so many stories," I asked Snake between sips of coffee, "of the eternal amongst the mortal, the tragic theme of the woman losing beauty and dying while her lover stays the same age, their children growing old and dying as well is familiar to the point of cliché."
"Perhaps that is why I wander," Snake smirked, "to avoid such clichés."
"But what about Claire?" asked Lindy.
I witnessed Snakes eyes sadden, but with a spark in them as well. "Another unique aspect of my modern skin," he sighed. "She aged beautifully, like a mortal angel I think. Five children took a toll on her figure, broadened it, especially at the hips and of course the breasts, but she fought back to lose the fat and managed to keep my attention until the end. Many minions for myself and the twins came from her womb."
"Not my mother though," said Helena. "I haven't a speck of Irish."
"You're right. Your mother came from much older genes, Helen's genes. The minions of Greek heritage had no angels as mistresses. Only I could command them. Your grandmother looked more like Helen than any woman I met. Salomé told me about her."
Salomé nodded. "I accompanied my genius, an open minded Moslem gentleman seeking to smooth over old hatreds between Greeks and Turks to garner trade, when we met Mina's parents who of course welcomed us with open arms and open house. As soon as I met her, I knew you needed to woo her. Eighteen year old perfection."
"Her father proved less a fool than Claire's," Snake continued. "I had to court her, to woo her, in order to gain her favor and the favor of her father. Her father also wisely insisted we needed to find her a husband if and when I impregnated her. Unfortunately that proved unnecessary, though we found a charming young man, not only Greek in heritage but in sexual interest as well. They married, and I consummated the marriage while he buggered me. Made for a rather intense wedding night for the beautiful Mina, and she loved it."
"Why unfortunately then?" I asked.
"Grandmother died giving birth to mother," Helena answered.
"Terrible," Snake could only say. He cleared the pain from his throat. "She loved conversation, especially concerning her doppelganger ancestor. I thought ... she would be my new Claire who had died only a decade before."
"How did Claire die?" asked Lindy.
"She died loving me. I fucked her to death. I don't know how she did it, but even at eighty she never failed to thrill me in bed. But at eighty, her old heart couldn't handle it. Like a warrior dying in battle, dying in my arms with my cock thick inside her was to her the most honorable death she often told me when I feared the outcome that actually happened. It hurt to die. I could see her contorted face. But there was a smile there. A fucking smile." He shook his head. "Even in death she was the liveliest creature I ever met. And Mina had Claire's spark."
"I don't envy your eternal life," I said quietly.
"Purgatory, my young friend," he grinned sadly.
By the end of Tuesday's rehearsal I felt as good as I ever had about my play and about the work I was doing on Lindy's play. During our lunchtime meeting of the smaller intra group of collaborators adjusting our plays I saw Lindy had been right about that first revision she felt my play needed being the worst. The other problems turned out to be small adjustments; a bit of tightening or rewriting clumsy dialogue which we cruised through before returning to regular rehearsal in the afternoon, at least most of them.
Lindy gave Snake, Helena and Steve a break that afternoon, needing desperately to observe the choreographic work being done to her play. I could see Lindy sitting on her hands so to speak (sitting on her mouth sounds too weird) to keep from putting her two cents in during the collaboration of Barnaby and Natasha crafting the subtle choreography. Natasha insisted only adjusting words would be tolerated from the playwright (and it turned out none needed adjusting amazingly enough). Mr. O'Casey, also there as observer, couldn't agree more.
I could see Lindy's frustration in not being allowed to collaborate on her play had tightened her body to an uncomfortable state. I essentially ordered her to her apartment afterwards to ease the tight muscles and the frustration in general "Let it out, Lindy," I insisted sitting on her much bigger bed in her much bigger and nicer apartment. Through a friend of a friend from her college, she had really scored a sweet deal on her three month sublet. A gay couple, both teachers, rented the bottom floor of a townhouse in the Castro district. Their summer vacation became Lindy's fortune. Though several blocks from ACT unlike my two blocks distance, the comparative luxury more than made up for the slight commute. She simmered as she unbuttoned her form fitting blouse. When her shoulders became bare, I kissed them and massaged them. "Let it out," I repeated.
She roared for several seconds, her body shaking with the power of the exhalation. I chuckled, "Now don't hold back."
It seemed to help. Her shoulders lowered under my caresses. "It's like giving my baby up for adoption," she muttered, unbuttoning her skirt and removing it, leaving her only in panties.
"But it's a good couple," I whispered into her ear. "A loving couple. Nurturing the child, especially the father." I gently nibbled on that ear.
"Mmm," she purred. "You can go deeper with your fingers."
"Lie down, Lindy," I suggested. "Let me give you the full treatment."
She lay on her stomach, removing the pillow that twisted her neck too much. I removed my clothing, leaving only boxers on matching her panties in equal near nakedness and straddled her hips and began pressing down on her shoulders, thumbs digging in.
"Ow, that's deep," she murmured.
"Too much?" I asked.
"Perfect," she murmured. "You've done this before."
"I trained with an interesting fellow in Hawaii," I told her. "He invented his own method, a nerve therapy." I illustrated by pressing my thumbs along her spine and rotating them. "He was the only Hawaiian Sumo wrestler in competition in Japan and had retired."
"A big guy," Lindy murmured.
"Very," I chuckled. "It tends to be a bit harsh though, so I took a class in what's called 'Esalen Massage, ' to sooth." Again I illustrated with long strokes with the palms of my hands pressing down. Some mineral oil had been sitting beside the bed. I could imagine what the residents might use it for. I had applied it to my hands before the strokes.
"Nice," she murmured. "You should do this professionally."
"I have," I told her. "Worked for the boss of a girlfriend at a hair salon for a few months, mostly afternoons and evenings. He expanded his business into a kind of spa. Unfortunately I proved to be the wrong sex."
"Why's that?" she asked.
"Women feel more comfortable being massaged by women, and men prefer the opposite sex for their massages. Fear of latent homosexuality I guess. If I worked in a gym it wouldn't have been an issue, but that would have been much more hard core and dedicated than I was available for, even if there had been positions available."
We became silent so I could concentrate and she could benefit more from my work. Usually I played some New Age music to create a more comfortable atmosphere, but the silence filled only with breathing and sighs actually made the experience more sensuous.
I moved down to her full, firm butt and pressed deep. The panties got in the way so I removed them, removing my boxers too. Fingers tended to slip between the cheeks and caress a warming and dampening opening. Her legs opened. "That part of your usual routine?" she murmured.
"Only for very private sessions," I chuckled.
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