Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 02

"Art is not a mirror. It is a hammer."

--phrase scrawled on a whiteboard in the Media Lab at MIT (home of the first computer hackers), attributed to Bertolt Brecht

Domenique, a pleasant ache still present in her jaw since the sex they'd had the night before, passed unnoticed into the doorway of Gwen's bedroom. The stillness and sheer beauty of the scene radiated a power that left her silently captive. Gwen was laying on her belly, her body at an acute angle across the shadowed ripples, rumples and folds of her unmade bed, her dark hair bound in a pony tail and wearing only her favorite sweater, the charcoal cardigan, and a pair of lavender panties. But, what made Gwen even more beautiful, more magical, than usual were the shafts of glowing afternoon sunlight, shining across the room and onto her body like lasers, painting bright glowing stripes along her back, ass, thighs and on the shapely feet that dangled off the bed.

Domenique smiled as similarly provocative images of their latest weekend together played out in her mind's eye. It was Gwen's turn to play hostess, and they'd shared yet another fantastic weekend of loving company, fine spirits, fine food and the dirty sweet delicacies of each other. She hadn't been sneaking exactly; just taking a leisurely tour through Gwen's big apartment; checking out the prints on her walls, the framed photographs, the knick-knacks on her shelves and the titles in her bookcase. But, as she stood there with her bare feet on soft carpet, Domenique realized that Gwen was perfectly unaware of her presence. Seconds passing into minutes, she had begun fingering the smooth contours of the camera that hung from her neck. An amateur photographer, she'd brought one of her favorite cameras, an early Olympus digital model, to record various hot points of their visit. The image before Domenique was beyond hot. It was perfectly artful, a serendipitous union between time and space, simultaneously created and blessed by the mysterious power of the universe. It would be a crime, a virtual sin against them both, not to record the event. Domenique's smile gave way to a very serious expression as she raised her camera to frame the shot.

Gwen, in her own world, trying to get through some Flannery O'Conner, but other wise thinking about the three white roses, who might have dropped them off and why, was oblivious to Domenique's presence. Last Gwen knew, she was in the kitchen, making up some lunch for the two of them. Then, given her attempt to wrap her mind around a little Wise Blood, while entertaining her preoccupation with the white roses for the third time that day, Gwen shrieked and started as she heard the click and saw the flash of Domenique's camera.

"Jeez Nique," she hissed, "You scared the shit out of me!"

"Oh I hope not." laughed Domenique, as she made her way through the door to the foot of Gwen's bed, "Here; let's check."

Domenique set the Olympus on the bed, straddled Gwen's legs, and then proceeded to gently tug her panties from her waist. Nique, the pet name Gwen had come up with during the third time they'd made love, was a sweetly sexualized designation that Domenique had warmed to, but had made her lover swear to never utter in friendly or familial public. Staring down at Gwen's shapely lines and curves, she made a little game for herself, slowly dragging the panties downward, softly caressing each new inch of exposed skin. Gwen peered smolderingly over her right shoulder, a hungry smile beginning to raise her frown. Absently, she felt for her book mark, set it into the clef of pages 69 and 70 of Wise Blood , closed it, and tossed it onto her nightstand. Domenique, having removed Gwen's panties from her body, eyed her lover squarely as she spent a moment or two breathing in choice sections of the undergarment's fabric.

Gwen looked on, mesmerized until Domenique startled her once more; pitching Gwen's soiled underwear toward her face. Uttering a playful screech, she quickly intercepted it. Her eyes still on Domenique, Gwen made her own alfactic assessment of the musky fragrance of her underwear, and even sucked at the more tantalizing parts. Domenique watched her briefly as she set to massaging her lover, kneading her strong hands as far up as the small of her back, lingering on her smooth round ass, and then working her way down to her feet. Presently, lulled into total relaxation, Gwen dropped her panties to the floor, and folded her arms beneath her head while she felt Domenique working her thumbs more deeply between the humid, sloping depth between her buttocks.

"Oh my God Nique honey that feels so good." admitted Gwen.

"You're welcome." answered Domenique, "

"You know, I don't think you should dig too deep in there. It might not be exactly; palatable."

"I'll be the judge of that." Domenique affirmed as she continued a pattern of slow caressing, kneading and squeezing, "But, first I need to take this shot."

Domenique lifted her left leg over and simultaneously stretched her right arm to retrieve the camera. Then, stepping back into the doorway, Domenique framed the shot, instructed Gwen to get back up on her elbows and give her the pouty please eat me look. As she took in the sight from her original vantage, the feeling of awe came flooding back. Only, as if such a thing could happen to the sensation, it was magnified; her skin virtually buzzing, the goose flesh bringing her nipples and clit to solid points of readiness, like three armed sentries. Domenique couldn't help but stare; realizing that the omission of Gwen's underwear had brightened the sight to a hotter shade of miraculous, as if the Goddess and all her angels desired Gwen for their own. Holding her breath, she finally snapped the shot.

"Perfect." Said Domenique, smiling as she stepped back to the foot of the bed, "I'm going to get this made into a nice print."

"Oh yeah?" laughed Gwen, "And where are you going to mount it."

"Everywhere sweet heart," Domenique answered as she set the camera on Gwen's bureau, "Everywhere."

Just beyond where she'd placed her Olympus sat a container of Always cleansing wipes. Domenique took it, knelt at the foot of the bed, and then set the tub beside her. As much as Gwen needed to feel safe, Domenique had reassured her that it was dirtiness that was next to godliness and that it simply wasn't as good if it wasn't dirty. Showers were nice, sure; and they'd taken more than a few together prior to a romp. But, both Gwen and Domenique were now quite conditioned, tuned in, to each other's scents; each accustomed to seeking out and indulging in the other's fragrances, finding them in shared clothes, dirtied underwear, towels, sheets or pillow cases. Back in the city clinic's waiting room, Gwen had brought up the possibility of their use of dental dams. Domenique had shrugged in response and promised that if barriers were what she wanted, then they'd have them. But, Gwen had not brought up the orthodontic rubbers ever since, and she knew damn well why not. Sex and desire was the love of animal. It demanded, required, dirty. And, after all, products like Always filled the bill: "They're Perfect for Freshening Up Every Day," and that's all any two lust crazed lovers ever needed. Sex had tastes that should be savored, as a truffle is enjoyed for its earthy flavor, a fine cut of beef for its tenderness and a wine for its pleasant lingering on the tongue.

Domenique snapped the tub open, withdrew two wipes and made short, gentle, work of wiping Gwen's feet. Then, setting those aside and withdrawing two more, she leaned in toward Gwen's open ass and proceeded to make polishing strokes, moving upward and inward from the nether point at which pussy became perineal, and then into just inside her succulently pink little ass hole. The job finished, she sat back, snapped the tub shut, and then began to massage Gwen's left foot. As she worked the softly textured surface of the firm flesh of the sole, Domenique eyed Gwen's right foot. The shafts of afternoon sun made its skin glow like lustrous, buttery gold. It looked tantalizing to Domenique, so she summarily partook; leaning over to take hold of Gwen's big toe with her teeth. Gwen started and hummed in happy, lazy, surprise. Domenique then slowly brushed the tip of her tongue against the smooth toe, painting her way around it, and then reaching her teeth to each lesser toe. Enjoying herself, Gwen positioned her foot in such a way that it became infinitely easier for Domenique to lick Gwen's right sole from ball to heel, up and down again until it shined wetly. Presently, Domenique switched feet; massaging the right foot dry while nibbling lovingly at the left. Gwen whimpered in fits and starts as Domenique gripped the sensitive mounds and valleys with her hungry teeth. From time to time, she'd visually assess the sun dappled foot and see the pink marks of her bites.

Meanwhile, as a result of the physical ebb and flow of relaxation and stimulation, Gwen pondered new thoughts. There were the contents of the top drawer of her nightstand; a small collection of toys she already owned, and then the fresh devices she and Domenique had shopped for together the weekend before. She freed her right arm from beneath her head, and then reached for the drawer's knob. Once open enough, Gwen reached in and felt through the items, taking a few seconds to run her fingers along the straps of the leather harnesses and the length of the big purple dildo Domenique insisted they buy. They hadn't used them yet, but spent a lot of time practicing how to put them on with snug affectation; posing for each other, framing shots of one another wearing the false cock while the other sucked it, snapping a mutual collection of personal porn still frames and videos with one of Domenique's cameras or Gwen's iPad.

Gwen, recalling the sight of Domenique posing with the strap-on in three quarter profile, smiled to herself as she continued to rummage through the toys. There was her old egg, her old butt plug, their new anal beads, the new Rabbit, the tube of lube, ah; here it is. Gwen withdrew her trusty bullet; attached with a two foot length of white plastic coated wire to a tear drop shaped controller. Domenique took passing notice of Gwen reaching her other hand to unravel the knotted wire. Eventually, the nest came undone and Gwen fit her bullet against her sweetest surface spot. Gwen had spent many a lazy morning in just that way; wrapping the bullet inside her pussy's lips so that it was held in place against her clit, allowing her to pour on or ease off on the grind. She'd wasted hours of beautiful time lingering in bed: dozing in and out of sweet lucid dream and wicked reflection, with the controller's dial in her left hand; her fingers turning it up or down, depending how titillating the dreams or fantasies became. Now, as the warm clef of her ass dried, Gwen made one last adjustment to her bullet's position against her clit before Domenique's lips and tongue started lathering and slicking it back up all over again.

"A rose by any other name..." Fuck, thought Gwen as she felt Domenique's firm grip squeeze her ass cheeks apart for her mouth's ease of access. Just think of Nique stupid. Nique is real. Nique is here. She is the only rose. Yes Nique baby, yes. Eat my ass, eat... Gwen turned her bullet's controller dial up just a titch as Domenique painted the inner walls of her buttocks with her tongue and nibbled here and there with her gentle animal teeth.

"Eat my ass Nique baby," Gwen whispered the words aloud, "Eat my sweet ass honey."

"I love the taste of you baby," Nique whispered between mouthfuls, her cheeks already glistening, "The sweet taste of your ass hole, your sweet sweet pussy, your pretty feet, mmmmm, all of you, mmmmm."

Roses are... Roses are white, Violet's subdued. Our anuses sweet, rimming we two. Fuck Gwen; focus, concentrate! Domenique, her clit beginning to throb as she felt the resonance of Gwen's bullet through the mattress, was in the middle of boring her tongue into her lover's ass hole. She reached slender fingers down into Gwen's wet cunt, and withdrew some priming lube, which she then painted the inside of her ass with, following the one finger with a second, softly pumping until adding a third. Yeah, that's it now. I want it. I want to get fucked in my ass. Gwen had begun to moan, turning her controller's dial a bit higher. Presently, she began to drive her ass into the rhythm of Domenique's fingers, and raised her head to look upon Domenique's surprise.

"Nique baby," Gwen whimpered, her eyes doleful, her cheeks flushed, "Put it on. Put it on and fuck me in my ass now, please; please baby."

Gently, Domenique pulled her fingers from her lover's rectum. Gwen watched as Domenique reached down to open the tub, pull out fresh wipes, and then clean off her face and hands. Gwen's gaze then followed Domenique as she flung her sweat shirt away and dropped her shorts to the floor, revealing her beautiful naked body. Gwen admired her lover as she stepped around the bed; her stout yet slender, angular frame, her proud bouncing breasts, her flat tummy, the subtle shadows in the hollows of her hips and the soft brown down gracing her pussy's mound. Domenique reached into the opened drawer, withdrew the eight inch purple silicone dildo and strap-on leather harness. There had been some debate over the purchase, but they settled it by buying one thong harness and one jock. Domenique, experienced with the jock, quickly fastened it to her waist, fit the flared based dildo into the o ring, attached the vaginal plug, spread a little of the lube on it, carefully tucked it inside herself, and then snugly secured the two thigh straps to the back of the waist strap. After one last check of the pseudo cock's stability, Domenique grabbed the lubricant, snatched a condom from Gwen's toy drawer and made her way back to the foot of the bed.

"Lift your pretty ass up for me honey." Instructed Domenique as she pulled the condom from the wrapper she'd torn open.

"Whatever you want baby. " sighed Gwen, tucking the bullet inside her dripping pussy as she raised her ass and spread her knees, "Hmmmmmm. Like this?"

"Yeah. Just like that."

After Domenique rolled the rubber onto her silicone cock, she opened the lube, squeezed a few generous drops on the prints of her right hand's fingers, and set the tube beside Gwen's left knee. She painted the tip of the dildo with the drop on her pinky, and then massaged the rest in and around Gwen's little pink smile; plunging her fingers back inside, index, middle and ring. Then, extruding them once more, Domenique guided the dildo's lube tipped head toward Gwen's asshole, where it slipped past her exiting index finger. Domenique, in control, stood steadily poised, her legs parted, stabilized for the deep thrusts to come, the dildo's head inside Gwen's ass to its neck. Meanwhile, Gwen was using her muscles to squeeze her bullet against her inside sweet G spot as she turned its speed back down to low. Domenique's attention was on the nexus between Gwen's stretched ass hole and the purple dildo; watching the slow, measured, increments of her insertion, judging her pace from each rectum swallowed eighth inch of sculpted silicone vein. Deeper she went, angling her silicone dick in an downward direction. She could hear the increasing hum of Gwen's bullet and feel it in the knees she'd braced against the bed. Deeper Domenique gently pushed. Then, as Gwen began to hum with pleasure, she saw that her big purple cock was in her lover's ass to its base.

"How do you want it Gwen?:

:Oh Nique, mmmmmmm, keep it slow for a little bit more."

Domenique held the sides of Gwen's ass as she watched herself deliver a series slow, easy thrusts.

"Like that?"

"Yeah honey. Just, like, that."

Gwen, losing herself in the slow rhythm, wandered helplessly, guiltlessly, through the wilderness of thought. Oh Nique baby. I want to eat your pussy so good, so good honey. Ring around the rosy. Pocket full of.... Flowers, petals red fades to pink fades to white... White petals, curled, feathers, love birds, doves, the birds of peace... Roses are red. Violence is blue. We'll have our cake and we'll eat it too? Where had those roses gone? Oh yes, I remember; they're all dried up and hanging upside down, tied together with string and noosed from a corner in Nique's kitchen. That's right. We agreed. Why did we agree again?

"Nique honey?"

"Yes baby?"

"Fuck me."

"Fuck you?"

Roses are white. I climax for you. Sugar is neat, but Nique makes me drool.

"Yes sweetie." Gwen whimpered, "Fuck me hard with that big dick Nique, fuck me hard!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes honey; pour it on baby! Fuck my ass."

Domenique had been absently gripping Gwen's left ass cheek as she painted slippery splotches and circles of ass juice infused lube against her right. In spite of Gwen's wishes, she kept it slow for a short while longer, that is until Gwen complained. Then Domenique felt sure enough that it was okay to push it. And so she did; deeper, faster and rougher, enjoying thrust after thrust as Gwen began to whine and cry in orgasmic delight, and as her own pelvis quaked her own climax to life. Domenique rolled with it, panting through her clenched teeth, banging Gwen's ass, loving the slap, slap, slap of their bodies, the liquid smack of the excess lube on their skin. Then Domenique began to grunt through the peak of her coming as the force of Gwen's orgasm sent her silver bullet shooting from her girl come sopped cunt.

"Nique honey?"

"Yes Gwen?"

Night had fallen by the time they'd woken up from their second nap, snacked on cold Chinese and showered. Endorphin rushed and refreshed, they sat together, naked and drying beneath the cool September wind coming in through the open living room windows. Gwen was reclined in Domenique's great, puffy, lounger; her attention on her iPad as her fingers busily gestured her way through a game of Ninjump HD. Domenique sat before her lover's feet; Gwen's pedicure treatment tools and materials arrayed on the floor beside the hassock upon which she sat. She was busy scrutinizing and treating Gwen's feet and toes, pumas scrubbing and nail filing any and all unsightly build up. Gwen glanced briefly over the top of her iPad at Domenique as she died her third death. She just couldn't concentrate. Again, still; though there had been a good length of reprieve as she gave herself totally to Domenique earlier, her mind was on the desiccated white roses: as if they were the mummified remains, skeletons, of three nameless, forgotten murdered slaves. She wondered: Do they deserve a decent burial? Or should they risk a resurrection? I don't get it. I'm really happy with Nique. Why... Maybe you should just spit it out. Maybe I should just forget it.

"Who, other than the waitress that watched us playing with ourselves in the ladies room at the diner, " Gwen finally uttered, unable to stop herself from doing otherwise, "Would have sent us those roses."

Her question hung in the air as Domenique remained engrossed in her gentle sanding, filing, brushing and blowing away anything that obscured the beauty of her lover's feet.

Normally attending to the task herself, Gwen was delighted when Domenique offered to do it for her. Going to a salon was never an option. Doing it herself was Gwen's "me" time, a time to not have to think about anything too intense, and hone a skill she enjoyed keeping up. But, letting Domenique do it; the intense look on her beautiful face, the feel of her warm breath against her skin and the magical power of her touch, made the experience nearly as blissful as any Domenique could have made happen through foreplay. So why then had Gwen brought up the waitress? Couldn't she leave well enough alone?

"I already went back there to check her out." Said Domenique, not looking Gwen in the face, but blowing away more dust of dead skin.