The Village Shaman’s Lover
Part 3 of 3
By Alastair Anders
Copyright 2012 Alastair Anders
Smashwords edition
For adults only.
His bed is a carved-out berth filled with soft pillows and blankets and furs, and I begin to fall asleep as soon as I lay down inside. It’s a lovers’ bed – the sides are angled in so that we have no choice but to fall asleep cuddled together, facing each other. Charms and talismans hang from the ceiling, and circle the rim of the bed, protecting us from evil magic. I am safe in his arms, safe under his power.
Overnight, a heavy blizzard sets in, shutting the door and grinding life in the village to a halt. Freezing winds are soon blasting across the plains. Nothing is going on outside anyway. No one knocks on the door – everyone is holed up, staying warm. We spend the next week in bed together.
It is heaven.
I wake up to kisses. We hold each other in bed, body to body, filling each other with our warmth – it’s much too cold outside this bed to do almost anything else. We stroke each other, whispering our secret fantasies. The things we want to do to each other when it’s warm.
“I want you to initiate me,” I whisper, barely above a breath.
“Initiate you?” he asks. Then he reaches between my legs, behind my balls, and runs the tip of his finger around the rim of my asshole. “You mean, fuck you?”
“Yes!” I gasp. “But more than that – I want you to turn me into a lover. Into your lover.”
He doesn’t respond. Instead he presses my face to his chest and whispers, “Sleeping with you feels so good, sweetheart. I’m so glad you said something, that night.”
I love this man. I love him.
I love to touch him. It’s like something inside of me has been opened up, and sex and love and desire are pouring out of me. I have moments where my entire body feels like the tip of my cock. I learn how to slow myself down or speed up, so that we always have our orgasms together, our mouths moaning open into each other, our eyes rolling back at the same time. The rag we both fill with our cum freezes solid on the floor one night, when he drops it over the side of the bed, half-asleep already. And then we fall asleep together, his head on my chest, and I have intensely sexual dreams.
In one, I am on my knees, in a small room full of beautiful feminine men. My arms are tied behind my back with leather straps. My cock and balls have been oiled mercilessly and tied with the same leather – I can’t cum unless someone lets me. One at a time, the men slip their cocks into my mouth. I suck them greedily. The men all smell like perfume and sweat. They murmur to each other about how hot my mouth is, and how well-taught I have been. Cum flows down my throat. If I am good, maybe they’ll let me jack off for them while half a dozen pairs of hands touch me everywhere, and countless fingers slip into and out of my ass.
I describe it to him during our next pleasure session, and he loves it. He holds me close to him and whispers to me about how good I’ve been, how good I’ve made all those beautiful men feel, and how I can have my reward now, and I cry out and gush all over him.