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I find her cottage easily and stop, hoping I’ll find Miriam there. Her house looks like it’s out of a fairytale, where I can find a welcoming pair of arms.
“Come in,” she says when she answers my knock. Her gracious calm surrounds me the instant her eyes meet mine. She’s not surprised to see me. “You’ve been crying,” she notices.
I begin to cry again, realizing the safety of her gentle counsel. Taking me in her arms, I cry more, feeling foolish with all these ridiculous tears. Yet she caresses me, running her hand through my hair. I’m amazed that I’m aroused by this. Am I this fickle, my love spurns me one minute; I’m ready to fall into another’s arms the next?
She kisses my face tenderly and I’ve still not said a word about by troubles.
“Peach has gone mad,” I finally say. The words come out awkwardly, though they seem to be a perfectly correct evaluation of the situation.
“Has she?” Miriam says, waiting for an explanation.
“I know she’s pushed at my dark side many times. I guess I didn’t read her desires clearly; but now she’s lying bound in the clutches of that woman! She won’t even speak to me.”
“Let her be, dear,” Miriam says, “she knows her own mind well. She must need this. I believe she came for it.”
I don’t understand, but she doesn’t explain.
“What you need is to attend to yourself,” Miriam says.
Her kisses and gentle fondling touch are dangerously close to excitement. I could kick myself for my compulsive sexual needs rising at this moment, when I’m supposed to be in the midst of my greatest agony. I’m kissing her back with my lips on her neck and then between her breasts where her flesh smells of honeysuckle. She doesn’t balk when I undo the buttons on her blouse and reach deep inside to find her pendulous nakedness. I could spend a week in the softness of these womanly mounds. She moans softly as I cuddle them to my face. Her hands caress my hair and then my shoulders. She reaches lower to discover what’s beneath my shift. How convenient that I’m naked underneath, because it takes only seconds for me to be held by Miriam in my natural state.
We move back and forth in pleasure, her hands on me, mine on hers, matching aggressiveness and acquiescence in one tender rollicking passion.
We lie on her couch breast to breast, groin to groin making out like young lovebirds. She kisses my eyelids and lips, the warmth of her breath tickles my face. She’s like a billowy cushion, holding me to her with strong arms and legs. Our cunts rub together as our legs intertwine. I feel her female juices flowing against the inside of my legs and against my labia.
“Ah,” she says softly, as she fingers my cunt, finding the unexpected ring.
“Peach insisted on piercing me,” I explain.
“Ah, a ring of roses,” she says, when she looks down and inspects the etched filigree on my nether jewelry. She says it as if the design is of some significance.
“And are there rose petals on her thigh?” she asks.
“How did you know?” I ask.
“Samantha would think of both,” she replies without answering my question.
“What is she hiding from me?” I ask, drawn to my suspicions.
“What are you hiding from her?” Miriam asks, as if to put me in my place.
Neither of us answers the questions, the arousal going beyond mere play. She seeks her climax as much as I know mine will happen. First times are often awkward. But this one’s not, she’s as ea
sy as Peach was that first time; though there’s a familiarity with this woman, as though I’ve been making love to her forever.
I shudder, cumming sooner than I’d planned, and she keeps going, several well placed light slaps to my cunt and I’m building again like I’d never climaxed at all. I’m amazed at what she’s done, but I don’t take time to consider it. I let her take me to the edge again. Her whole body shudders next to mine when I orgasm. Locked tightly together still, she seems to have timed herself to me. I consider that a near impossible feat that happens only accidentally with other lovers.
She doesn’t finish yet, but climbs from the couch with me, and leads me to her bed. High above the floor, the antique four poster seems two-feet deep with comforters. I think I’ll smother in the feathers; I giggle, wiggling down inside. Miriam smiles, descending on my body again, massaging every inch of me so I’m climbing to another orgasm. The passion wells in me so high I think I’ll scream.
I do scream as she laps at my labia, and engorged clit. She penetrates both holes with easy moving fingers. This takes my whole body end to end and I fall back limp again.
She asks for nothing more, and though I’d willingly give to her again, she shakes me off, in favor of holding me close while I rest.
“I want to taste you,” I tell her.
“You’ll get your chance; I’m not done with you.” She’s smiling as my eyes slowly close and I drift off to a peaceful sleep.
When I wake she hasn’t moved. She’s held me the whole time.
