Divided

"Kiss me!"

And he lifted me to envelop my mouth with his own. He found his own flavor, and although he made some grimace, he didn't part from my mouth. He intertwined our lips and tongues vehemently, and he only stopped to beg me:

"Let me return the favor."

I sighed my consent to John and he proceeded to kiss my breasts, taking the opportunity to spill the corporal fluids that he scooped from my mouth; he traveled from my chest to my belly with kisses and licked and he refrained from arriving to my vulva until he got rid of my slime. He finally made contact with my labia, tracing them with his lips, tongue and even his nose when he licked my perineum, bordering around my anus. I screeched from pleasure, and voiced:

"What a bitch I am!"

When my clitoris became erect, he suckled it and tongued as I did to his penis, digging a little with his tongue toward my urethra to expose more of my vestige of a male member, so to surround more of it with his lips. He demonstrated me that he enjoyed it almost as much as I did upon receiving such indulgence. My hips shook because of so much pleasure and he struggled to hold me down, and the muscular tension amplified my orgasm. I groaned:

"Ooooooohhh!"

The next thing that he did drove to paroxysm: he put his fingers and in my vagina and he touched my G-spot! I screamed and I grunted like a wild animal while ejaculating and then fainted. In my semi-consciousness, he cuddled me in his arms, looking for the wetness that he deposited on me; I, weakly, placed mine next to his and he leaned against my back, in the spoon position, and he lulled me:

"This was meant to be: I love you and I know that you love me too. You are very nice, beautiful in body and soul. I guarantee you that we will be happy."

I told him, limply:

"Yes, I also love you very much. I will do my best to please you."

"You won't have to work hard, just be yourself. You already make me so happy! Don't worry."

We succumbed to the drowsiness...

Part III

...waking up in each other's arms seemed like an encouraging contrast to my depression of this couple of days ago! He and I spoke from our hearts:

John: "I don't intend that you forget your Marilyn, I will accept that she remains a beautiful memory in your life."

Nelly: (I) "But now, you are my present and my future!"

"You make me so proud! I am the one who doesn't deserve such an angel as you!"

I had to kiss him, to silence his undeserved praise. We moved into the 69 position and he also had enough stamina not to leave my vulva upon ejaculating, by grabbing firmly by my butt cheeks; the only thing was that he shoved his penis deep into my throat, gagging me. I allowed the first stream of semen to go through, which heated my stomach, and pried him off me a little, in order to keep the rest of it in my tongue, while I trapped his glans between my lips, like a baby's pacifier. When my orgasm finally arrived, I wrapped my teeth with my lips to bite the head and to mask a groan of ecstasy. Thus, we sealed our love. From then on, we became a steady couple.

At work, the boss also rewarded me, although only with a productivity bonus. But then he offered me an executive assistant position, working alongside with John, my lover. Although the offer was tempting, I told him that I liked being a receptionist. He told me that the offer would remain open, because at the right moment, we both knew that I will accept it. I also came to feel a special affection for him, but not to have sex with him, but to work loyally for the company.

John and I began to go out together, and at first, we flaunted our mutual conquest with some modesty. We went to the movies, to restaurants, museums and public parks; I even took him to the dance hall, since we lived close by. He danced very badly, although I didn't do it so well, but we enjoyed the opportunity to hug, kiss and caress erotically in public without people judging us. But in the back of my mind, my true purpose was to look for Marilyn, to find out about her, whether she was all right, if she suffered, if she was able to forget about me. I didn't dare to ask, but I eavesdropped without intruding. From time to time, John allowed me to dance with other boys, also avoiding any involvement in some whirlwind of adulterous passion. My main mission was to hear any comments about Marilyn, because I remembered that she danced with men when she could not conceal an attempt to do it with me. Then I knew that others already knew about her lesbianism, and they gossiped that she left with other young women to have one-night stands. She satisfied their bisexual curiosity and she drowned her pain for my absence in them. I saw her once! I struggled with myself not to call out to her, and then, I had to buy me a strong and bitter drink to keep me from crying. But John, my faithful John, my eternal John, read what I was feeling in that moment. He was very aware of that he, much less that I, should not allow himself to be seen by my ex. He dragged me out of the bar and led me to our haven, but I was no longer in the mood for anything, except for vomiting and then for crying. It was the worst night that I had ever spent at his side, topped only by that fateful night in which I lost Marilyn. The next day, John made me face the fact that I could never be just friends with my former live-in partner. He is all man, because he knows how to get right to the point when it is necessary, but even if he were weaker of character, I would love him the same.

We never went back to dance there, because he also felt uncomfortable with having "two left feet." Our social life went downhill, because as our attachment grew, we preferred to spend our free time at home to experience more sexual pleasures. So, a weekend afternoon, I took him to that same sex shop where Marilyn took me. I still needed to exorcize the memory of her a little more in order to feel free again. We bought there the creams that she and I used for that unforgettable body massage, along with more condoms, because he insisted on protecting me from a pregnancy, which after all, would be the only way in which he could hurt me.

Upon arriving to the apartment, we left defrosted what we would later have for dinner, and we got undressed to prepare, that included a quick shower and some nail clipping; we both thought that it was such a waste to clip mine, which were already very long and stylized. Since I already had some practice in the "art" of the massage, I lay him on the bed first and I ran my hands on his body while applying him the creams, thus I discovered his muscles and his other erogenous zones. With him facing down, I kneaded his temples, cheeks, the nape of his neck, his shoulders, armpits, triceps, elbows, forearms, wrists, palms and fingers, in order to trail back in inverse order, to his shoulders, and continue for his shoulder blades, his spine, ribs, waist, hips and buttocks, these, I stroked quickly and I promised him:

"I will return here very soon."

To what he responded nicely:

"I will be waiting for you."

I rubbed his thighs vigorously, and I moved along for his knees, calves, ankles, soles and toes. I traced my return to his pelvis with my fingers barely hovering over his skin and then I manhandled his buttocks shamelessly, as if fondling a woman. I sat down on his knees, in order to pin him down, and I furrowed his perineum in order bring him to a small orgasm, when I achieved it, I became sadistic and I began to stroke his anus, pressing into it with the tips of my index finger or the one which one sticks out when insulting. This alarmed him, because that is off-limits for him and this represented a threat to his last shred of macho pride and homophobia. I leaned on him, making him feel my bristled nipples on his back and buttocks, and I soothed him, by saying:

"Daddy, I don't want to demean your manliness, but in the erotic massage, anything goes, as long as it is not painful. Also, all of me is yours, so all of you belongs to me. Please, open up for Mamma!"

My intention was to infect him with the fever of multiple orgasms, and I got close to that goal, although he achieved them with some minutes of spacing. Finally, after caresses, loving words and much more cream, he relaxed and I got my finger inside. I morbidly enjoyed disrespecting him that way. I dilated him little by little, in order to reach more deeply with one or two fingers. I whispered to him mockingly:

"How does my beautiful girl feel, my little woman?"

Getting himself fully in my game, he replied:

"As if were your prostitute."

I stroked him in and out, excited with my power over him and the heat that his cavity irradiated in my finger. I was even able to find his prostate gland and I used my technique in order to give him a masculine version of the G-spot orgasm, as homosexuals do with sodomy. When he ejaculated, his voice fluctuated wildly in volume and pitch, and when he calmed down, I exclaimed:

"You truly are my slut!"

In any another circumstance, this would be a serious insult for him, which might cause him to beat me to death, but after such a powerful orgasm, he felt happy that I dishonored him so.

I turned him around and I reassured him with these words:

"I will now return your manliness, my big and strong man!"

I gave him a fleeting kiss in his lips and after washing and pouring fresh cream, I caressed his skull, his forehead, cheekbones, jaw, neck, shoulders, clavicles, armpits, biceps, inside his elbows, forearms, wrists, palms and fingers, to return, in inverse order, to the shoulders, and move on to his breastbone until arriving at his nipples, which I caressed until drawing another orgasm, another little bit of feminine illusion. By this time, I was moved to tears and I nagged him, like a Hindu "mantra":

"I love you, I love you, I love you...!"

I continued to the ribs, and I went on to compulsively knead his belly, full of fascination, furrowing toward the "love handles" around his waist, as if trying to reduce them. I fondled his abdomen, his bladder, and I traced his penis and testicles, again promising him that I would give them special attention later. I continued with his thighs again, his knees, calves, ankles, soles and toes. I traced my return path to the perineum and I surrounded his testicles and penis with both hands. It seemed longer and harder than ever before and I masturbated him frantically, alternating my hands, craving the blessing of his hot semen.

"Feel this, my man...!"

The abundant spurt of semen amazed me and I squealed, laughed and cried, because I was bursting with sheer love for my great John. The magic thing about the erotic massage is that it takes none of the vigor from the one who receives it, so he was ready to pay me back. He did to me all that I had done to him, but adding his special touch, masculine, urgent. I reveled in his "anal revenge", because when he put his fingers in my anus and rectum, he led me to an orgasm that made me look forward to his eventual penetration, and when he did my front, my orgasm through the breasts left me delirious, and his fingers on my labia, my clitoris and then inside my vagina (remember, boys and girls, we washed our hands before working on the front) drove me crazy. I was also energized and not drained, although he stimulated my G-spot and I let loose a female ejaculation even farther than his.

We got hungry, so we washed the cream off our bodies, which left a refreshing and smooth sensation on us. We got ready to cook and I put on an old-fashioned apron in order to be in front of the stove, wearing nothing else. He paid me this compliment:

"You look sexier wearing that than with all those erotic clothes that you brought along. Not even naked would you be more beautiful. I want to keep seeing that garment on you in your old age."

He meant it. The cloth barely covered my breasts and my nipples escaped around the sides and all of my back and my arse were exposed; he even gave me a playful little spank, which far from offending me, made me proud. That benevolent aggression made me realize that we would be together forever. When he had to watch over the stove, I put the apron on him and I also noticed that he looked very sensual dressed like that, and although I would have preferred to see his penis sticking through the garment, I acknowledged the protection that it afforded him, above all. I expressed myself:

"You're beautiful, too!"

He only looked at me and beamed me a smile. Impressed, I blew him a kiss.

We had dinner happily, and sometimes, we crossed the table to kiss and get mouthfuls of food from each other's mouths. We also spilled some sauce on ourselves with the full intention of mutually licking it off. We had already left behind the disgust, the shame, the fear and the pain. There was only room in our hearts for love, appreciation, tolerance and understanding.

Upon having dinner, we put the dinnerware away hastily and we sat down in the sofa to rest, holding hands. Later we washed everything very well. I had to go to the toilet and upon defecating, I reminisced on his finger through my anus and I got excited again, so I took a spent bottle of vaginal douche, I refilled it with water in the sink and gave myself small enemas, in order to be very clean and fresh for John. He was already lying on the bed, with the expectation of what else we would do.

I sat on his thighs and leaned until I touched my nipples against his, and we shared this sigh:

"Oh, Nelly, you are insatiable!"

"Are you getting tired of me?"

"I still need you."

"So do I."

I dragged my vulva over his testicles and his penis, and upon passing beyond to his belly, I let his manhood rise again, in order to feel it against my buttocks. I teased myself with it, wedging it in the cleft between my buttocks! I was able to slip the ever-present condom on him without glancing backwards, and I aimed it toward my rear hole. I murmured, more for myself than for John:

"I am about to fulfill your darkest wish."

"How do you know so much about my dark wishes?"

Then, I loosened my sphincter and I lowered myself to welcome my beloved intruder in my rectum. There was some pain, on which I masochistically relished, and when it subsided, I began to rock in order to make anal love to myself. He grabbed me by my breasts to support my body and to boost my pleasure, but I felt selfish, so I spun around with his member still in me to face his feet and to jump up and down. He lifted his hips sometimes to match my rhythm, and when he didn't follow anymore, due to his orgasms, he just fondled my buttocks. I allowed myself to spiral into the kinkiest and sleaziest climax that I have ever experienced. When he lost his erection due to exhaustion, I ejected his limpness and I leaned on his side, lingering on the irritation as a reminder of such an explosive experience.

Part IV

Late that night, a strange noise woke us up. John recognized it as the intercom buzzer, newly installed as a consequence of the ruckus that Marilyn caused, and we jumped off the bed to answer it; I was not going to leave him alone, although we still were naked and a little sticky. The voice seemed to say:

"Nelly, John, help me! Please...!"

John remarked, a little annoyed:

"I don't recognize this voice!"

"But I do: It is Marilyn! Open quickly!"

My emotions coursed through me faster than light, and it felt like an eternity while my boyfriend pressed the button that unlocked the main door. She entered, and I saw the image of death in her: her make-up was smeared on her face, with a few streaks left by tears, and her clothes, usually sexy and elegant, were dirty and a little disheveled. She was barefoot, because her usually luxurious shoes lost their high heels. A sob escaped from my throat and I hugged her impulsively, interrogating her with barely-contained hysteria:

"What happened to you? Who did this to you?"

"There was a riot at the "disco," and I fled. I didn't know where to go, so I wouldn't be followed to my home...!"

Her body trembled violently and she broke down in tears. I pressed her against my body, trying to infuse some strength and serenity to her. But my own knees betrayed me, and I had an urge to urinate, either for the cold of the night or the horror that she transmitted to me. I took her by the shoulders and I led her to the bathroom, inviting her to:

"Come wash and freshen up."

I looked at John and I told him, as if by telepathy:

"I have pending matters with her..."

I turned on the light and she saw me naked, but she was more concerned about other things, so she allowed me to take off her already useless clothes, and she went in the shower. Marilyn couldn't figure out which faucet to turn to get the right water temperature, so I went in with her, with the pretext of helping her. I began to wash her myself, so I could check if she was hurt, I felt so much relief when I saw that she was OK. Upon making contact with the water, I could not control myself any longer and I urinated on her legs. She looked at me shocked, but I attacked her with a full-mouth kiss. She struggled to pry herself free and I insisted to her, also telepathically:

"You won't escape that easily from me!"

She settled on lathering me too, because she missed the feeling of my body. I later washed her beautiful hair, because it reeked from alcohol and cigarettes; and while we rinsed, we continued to hug and caress each other. I shut the shower off and I lay her daintily on the cold floor of the bathroom, and I placed myself over her in the famous 69 position, where we devoured each other with lust. We didn't afford a thought about John, in the same way that I had pushed her out of my mind when I justified myself by thinking that he needed my affection after such a difficult day at the office. After two or three quick orgasms, I raised her and I told her:

"Now I want you to get to know John, the real John."

We left the bathroom already in another mental plane and I signaled my man so he could get ready. They opened both their mouths in order to babble some protest but I put my foot down on them with my air of dominatrix, and becoming aware of an unexpected erection, John sheathed himself while waiting for us to make the trek to the bed. I introduced them, with a playful excitement:

"Marilyn, please meet John; John, I present to you: Marilyn."

They mumbled "How do you do?" almost in sync.

She looked at me perplexed and I encouraged her to kiss him. She touched her cheek against his and I scolded her:

"Not like that! Like this!"

And I smooched with him, and immediately with her, shamelessly. Then I took their heads and I aligned them; the closeness of their breaths did the rest and she melted against him. I didn't feel jealous, on the contrary, it was my greatest hope that this encounter between my two great loves would happen. I grabbed her breasts and I steered her body so that she inserted the virile member in her vagina. I reminded her:

"Do you remember that I asked you once about dildos? Now I want you to try mine; only this one is alive."

I pressed their bodies with mine so that the penetration became deeper and neither of them could withdraw. I rubbed my torso against her back in order to put some rhythm into her rediscovery of heterosexuality. She took over and began to shake, finding the orgasm for herself and for him, while their friction against my body gave me that full-body orgasm. The three of us collapsed exhausted and I admitted to them, excited:

"I love you both! I will never allow any one of you out of my life, ever!"

I cried with happiness, fondling them and kissing them relentlessly. They patronized my caresses, while they fell asleep. I stared at them for a while lying together before I also fell asleep.