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Monday, April 4, 2011

5.(12-13) Ne Plus Ultra - Sex! Sex! Sex!

Slim Novel 5 - http://adventuresofkimi.blogspot.com - See Homepage


12. Thanks But No Thanks 
Kimi attends a Free Artists MeetingHarumi will talk on Futurism and Olga will entertain. The Free Artists are longhair intellectuals - so-called bohemians - not as expression of rebellion but of creativity. They see life as a chance to create value and they despise the haircut. They are painters, sculptors and architects interested in Art as expressing Science. Their 1942 heroes are modernist French painter Fernand Leger and Swiss-French architect Charles Edouard Jeanneret, known as Le Corbusier, creator of the functionalist slogan the house is a machine for living in.
 Entering, Kimi sees a Modernist painting 

and thinks: Who knows what it means? It comes from a different world yet it strangely moves me.


The loft is poorly lit and too ventilated for the cold evening. Kimi keeps her coat on. Chairs are rickety and seating noisy. A filming of the Shangri-la scenes from Frank Capra’s 1939 Hollywood movie, Lost Horizon, begins things, and Harumi onstage uses flashlight pointer to indicate the Modernist buildings. As the lecture ends, the stage goes black, but before any irritated muttering can start, a single spotlight reveals Olga at piano in schoolgirl sailor suit, memo pad in hand, pencil in mouth.
   Obviously about to write a letter, thinks Kimi. But to whom?  And Olga answers.
Thank you Mr. Tojo for your Great Pacific War.
If its success is like in China
We shall soon be at death’s door.
And thank you for high prices
And the lack of my coiffure.
Thanks, but no thanks, but no thanks, but no thanks, but no thanks!
Any other audience would run but Olga chose her fans well and as she improvises on piano, the initial muffled laughs rise to roars
   “Quite witty, n’est-ce pas?”  whispers a charmingly French accent male voice into Kimi’s left ear followed by brief blow of air from lips, hand slipping under her dress and rapidly moving from initial place on right knee to inner thigh. It is too dark for the face but she vaguely recalls her left seat neighbor to be handsome like Hollywood’s Tyrone Power. Her seatmate’s act would normally have caused her to get up and leave but now is not her ‘normally’. Having been a sex worker who also enjoyed it due to her natural appetite, she had, over years without awareness, been satisfying a powerful lust, and Tommy had recently been supplying good goods, but, since Tommy’s leaving last month, she lacked sex service for the first time in years. Now, with a man’s hand about to snatch her goods she feels her lust.
   Even sexually satisfied, Kimi's desire increases the week after first menstrual blood, and each month at the 2-week point she would prefer more than one sexual partner a day or, if she could not get that, she might wear out the one she had. And today is the day. So when he massages the soft spot of her gap and whispers “Let us leave before lights go on” she answers by a quick thigh squeeze on his delighted delighting hand.


13. The SUMATRA
Rain is falling, puddles dot the unpaved street as Kimi and the man exit the building. In the dark she can hear the pit-pit-patter of raindrops.
   The man looks at her. “I apologize, mademoiselle, for crude behavior. I am Swiss and with the Red Cross and fly to Geneva tomorrow. Do you understand my English?” She nods Yes and he looks relieved and points down the street where a neon sign SUMATRA flashes in alternating red and blue. She recognizes it as place where working women take their tricks.
   “Look, the rain is terrible and no taxi! And over there is a small hotel.” He bends and, placing his left forearm under her back and his right one in the crook of her knees, lifts and carries her across the deep puddle street and sets her down on other side with audible grunt and they run in the rain to the hotel entrance. Nearby they stop under sheltering arcade roof and she says “I am sorry but I am no lightweight.” He smiles.
   “ Mademoiselle, you are perfect.”
    She follows him down an alley to a doorway hung with baubles, bangles and beads and into lobby lit by bare bulb in ceiling. In dim light is a counter and behind it a young woman at her knitting, with sleeping baby strapped to back. In the vestibule where they stand, pairs of shoes are neatly arranged and they add their own now and step up and into clean, dry pairs of red slippers and, after checking-in, they follow the young woman up narrow stairs and down bare unlit corridor.
   The now-on-her-knees bowing woman slides a panel door aside and they enter and the woman patters away. Given the hotel’s dingy outers, the room is well done, its deep green rug so soft one could lie on it more comfortably than on a mattress, and against the wall facing them is an arm-less, backless pink-cushion divan, also called an ottoman, fronted by a low table on which are 2 cups and 4 red gelatin slices each one stuck in center with toothpicks, and a thermos of hot green tea.
   Through a partly open panel into the other room, Kimi sees a colorful comforter on a futon. She takes off coat, hangs it neatly on door, assists the man out of his clothes, hands him a towel and wrap, and, once he has it on, ties sash about his waist in front and hand-pats the red divan for him to sit. He reaches out and pulls her to him, right hand fumbling with her buttons.
   “Take it easy, honorable gentleman, we have all night. How about bath?”
   “I want you first,” he mutters, pulling her blouse open; her breasts come out in his hands and he starts sucking left one while reaching to unsnap her skirt waist.
   “You naughty!” She exclaims, starting to feel a first pleasant twinge and presses hard against his mouth while her thighs open to his fingers.   
   In a moment his fingertip finds her soft spot and with sigh she reaches and draws his head down and lies back. His tongue flicks rapidly in and out of her, then centers on the spot. She lies along length of divan, torn panties kicked off, blouse opened, thighs wide apart and his head firmly in her hands’ control so that she can move it like an instrument. Her juice passes over the man’s active tongue and its taste and fragrance further inflame him. As waves of pleasure radiate down thighs and pierce deeply inside her, she exclaims “Oh take it! Take it! Feels so good! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah-eee!”
   He keeps his tongue in contact until her spasms pass; then, jumping on top, kisses her nipples, neck, ears, eyes, nostril openings and mouth, as his pulsing part pushes aside her lower lips and, overcoming the passive resistance of her vaginal collar, plunges deep into her, gasping:
   “The moment I saw you I dreamed of the fragrance between your thighs, of your touch and taste, of getting within your outré outers.”
   She replies by pulling him close with encircling legs and meets his lunges with her forward body push and vaginal sqeeze. Words no longer come: it is a love duel punctuated by grunts and groans and squeals and sighs, with civilized personas regressed to the primeval ooze. Flesh against flesh energized by two cells seeking union. In final moment she lies helplessly pleasured while he literally knocks her up with globs of semen that impact inside her and set off deep orgasmic vaginal twitches.
   Minutes later she urges him into the bath of steaming cloudy sulfuric water in a 2-meter cube made of Delft tiles showing pretty pictures of wood-shoe Dutch girls and boys, of dikes, of tulips, of quaint harbors.
   Sitting him on pool edge and using oaken bucket she pours pail after pail of hot water over him and cleans his sexual parts. Then they reverse roles and luxuriate in up-to-neck heat and minerals. The pool is such that they fit in it face-to-face, knees drawn up with she sitting on his thighs. Positioned like this, her bum settles on his soft sexual part and its stimulation begins to change it to erection and soon his firm tip bounces against her back hole – the quaint name comfort girls use for the anus – and as they sit touching, an idea occurs.
   “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Huh?” he feels strangely shy to talk.
“Well,” she continues, “I’m feeling something down below that tells me you want to try that. I’ll allow you because I trust you. If a man don’t do it carefully – I mean with loving care and no lustful lunges – it can hurt awful. So if you’re going to try it, tell me now and I’ll direct you and help so it don’t hurt me.”
   The talk has further stiffened his erection and he needs release. She gets him out of the bath. Then she looks for a tube of jelly she knows love hotels keep for the sex.
   “OK” she says smearing the jelly over his erect tip. “If you want it, you got to control yourself and follow me to a T. We must do it in best position.”
   She gets on her back, face up, puts 2 pillows under her bottom and using both hands each behind a knee crease pulls her bent knees up and widely apart.
   “Get between my thighs, spread my cheeks wide, and feel for my back-hole then work your tip into it slowly directing it at slightly upward angle gently.”
   He mounts. Actually he’s done it before but is too embarrassed to say so. She too is more experienced in anal sex than she wants him to know and knowing the importance of relaxation in achieving painless entry she loosens her vaginal-anal muscle.
   “OK, I feel you. Stop your forward motion or you’ll poke a hole in me.   Now I take hold of your P for control so you don’t damage me.” She grasps him with her right hand and they silently work together. “Angle it up, into me, that’s it. Unh, now you got it, angle it more deep. Ooh, I feel it hurting! Don’t get carried away. Just slowly, back and forth and always gentle and keep in mind it don’t pleasure me except I get a kick out of giving you the thrill of a lifetime because I know men go crazy over the tight fit and then the sudden, soft feel inside.”
   Now he finds words. Getting in was hard but once in, he experiences the tight grip of the anal muscle on the sides of his shaft plus the soft furry feel on his penis-tip pleasure-nerve endings inside rectum. And he gets an ecstatic feeling causing him to gasp “Oh, I cannot stop! It is too good; you are too good! Wow! Never before! Aah ......!”
   Kimi, as she’d been taught, holds him firmly until the pleasure has passed then relaxes, disengages and allows him to fall back on the mat. He sleeps instantly, typical after an anal orgasm. The ne plus ultra totally drains brain cells of energy due to excess of electrical output. And Kimi, having trained self to sleep at will, merely lowers eyelids.

They awake hungry. The Swiss calls for breakfast and after morning bath they find table set with cups of freshly fragrant, amber-yellow, fish-based soup each with a pigeon egg, and plates of white sliced-octopus garnished with grated white-horseradish, and also omelet wrapped around rice balls with small embedded cubes of ham, and fresh lettuce and tomato, toasted white bread smeared with butter and cut into small squares, and cubes of sweet green melon on toothpicks. As they finish, a serving girl brings freshly brewed coffee in demitasse cups with strawberry shortcake.
   “My best night ever” he says. “Let us hope you do not get pregnant.”
   “Not with Friend in.”
   “Your friend? I thought we left her singing at The Free Artists? And what would she be ‘in’ anyway?”
   She laughs and says “Not that friend. The Woman’s Friend”. And she explains the contraceptive cup. This stimulates him to want more but she firmly says No. It is early Sunday morning and she hopes to be back at L'lle Blue House before her housemates are up.
   To read on, now, click 5.(14-17) After Sex! Sex! Sex! Surprise!

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