Kira Tales IV --
© William D'Ark
2022
And now you ask in your heart,
"How shall we distinguish that which is good in pleasure from that which is not good?"
Go to your fields and your gardens, and you shall learn that it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the flower,
But it is also the pleasure of the flower to yield its honey to the bee.
For to the bee a flower is a fountain of life,
And to the flower a bee is a messenger of love,
And to both, bee and flower, the giving and the receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstasy.
My people, be in your pleasures like the flowers and the bees. (Gibran)
Kira Narrating:
When I was younger I let my body make choices for me. I didn't trust my mind to tell me how to behave. Mind was good to me when it came to memorizing things. But behaving properly? No. Body was the key to rewarding behavior. Mind was just a lens into how things were organized. So people wouldn't stray.
Mind led me to studying biology. Well okay, paleontology; I became a dinosaurologist. Laugh if you like. I've seen the smirks and sideways glances.
'Really? This girl?'
Disbelievers. I can tell you the names of just about every dino discovered -- 700 species -- how long ago they lived and their part of the dinosaur family tree. I can name every bone or even fragments of bone and tell you which family or maybe even which species it belonged to. I can tell you which parts of the planet a dino occupied and for how long a species lived. I can talk for hours about the tragic day -- a single day! -- when nearly every dinosaur on the planet died after
a hundred and sixty five million years
of dominating the planet. Caused by, you know, that extraplanetary thing that crashed into the earth just off the coast of Mexico.
Chicxulub.
It's my best cocktail conversation. Till you turn green.
But other than with memorizing things, Mind was mostly boring. It kept telling me to do sensible things. It tried to keep me on the straight and narrow. My parents were Mind people. Most of my teachers too.
Body, on the other hand, was very, very good to me. It guided me to chase pleasure, to jump on board that wagon till it was time to get off. ...~ heh... get it?
Never mind.
My point
is...
Body has always been the opposite of boring.
I found pleasures of every sort and as much of them as a smart, attractive girl could have. Most of it for free. I was the willing victim of all kinds of pleasure-filled adventures. Nobody was going to ask
me
for money when I put out like I did. Booze? Drugs? Underground porno? Private dungeons? I was their girl. No whore, either. Nothing for upfront pay, that was my rule. I was in it for the pleasure, the experience. I didn't want to argue about money. And I never stole anything, ever. Not even when the 24 karat gold stuff was just left on a table. Or when the diamonds and other gems dropped to the floor as women's clothes came off right beside mine. High class, high standards, that was my modus.
Now if they wanted to
give
me a little something at the end, call it a bonus for me being such a good girl, who was I to refuse? That was part of the pleasure! Being rewarded for good behavior, good performance, and the
best
sex
ever.
Buy me nice clothes. Tickets to anywhere. Take me out for a week on your yacht. Entertain me at your beach front house. Gambling, sporting events, rock concerts, the opera, gallery openings... All to my liking. And many of them did reward me. My bank account constantly grew.
It's how I paid to become a dinosaurologist.
Pleasure. Body talk. With men, women, couples, groups... I was their favorite ping pong ball from the time I was eighteen years old.
Way before eighteen, I learned about the simple joys of hands and fingers on my bare skin. Oh my god, I was
so young.
Still wearing jammies, I would lay in bed with the lights out, eyes closed, and let my fingers wander every inch. Have you ever done that? With your eyes closed? Over every
inch
? The secret hidden places were my favorite. My pussy, my ass of course. But even between my toes... Inside my mouth! Behind my ears! Who knows how young I was but that's how I made every square inch an erogenous zone. I was a finely tuned engine that hums erotic vibes even now.
Was I cumming then? ...I knew you would ask. Yes I think so, but it was different. More of a shivery, goose-bumps thing than the canon fire cumming that started in my teens.
The Body whispers. And sometimes it
shouts!
I mean, have you ever stopped to take inventory? ALL the ways we humans can indulge in yummy, enervating, sensation-stretching, mind-expanding
p l e a s u r e
?
Makes me want to cum just thinking about it. ...Visual pleasures, olfactory pleasures, aural pleasures, gustatory pleasures... god bless the head where all those senses are centered. Right?
And then there are the
somatosensory
pleasures. Ooo...
Discovering those, that's when Body became my best friend.
...Just to be clear, I associate all those skin-to-brain-and-back, somato-sensations with
sex
. Sex is my platform, my launch pad. At sixteen it became clear to my whole family that's the kind of girl I was. I wouldn't apologize for it either, even when people made me go to church more, or made me sit down for those long talks. Afterwards, I still dressed the part. I still acted out. School was my hunting ground as well as my proving ground. I was going to have him or her or them or even mister or missus teacher if they struck me the right way. I knew what Body wanted!
I scored five teachers, matter of fact. Starting in junior high. Three men, two women. And never once got caught. I don't know how many guys I fucked in those days. Girls? Not as many, but yeah they knew I was there for them too.
Fucking. Cumming. Some call it love making and I'm okay with that but I'd rather call it
sex-bonding
.
When Sir came into my life -- late twenties -- he taught me what's really going on. What never gets talked about 'cause most people never
know.
I learned that even bad sex is a type of bonding, we just might not understand how at the time. I learned that all sex is a DNA exchange. A mind meld. Sex is a permanent memory, of gutters or glories depending on how it went down. It can leave different types of scars just like it can rebalance and heal. Sir argues that sexual attraction can be a body thing, a mind thing, a spiritual thing. It can be a combination of things. But whoever we have sex with, exchanging intimacies, secrets, juices, taking each other to orgasmic heights, we record those experiences in multiple parts of our makeup.
It's when sentiment comes into the picture, softening the sex-play, that fucking turns into skin-to-
heart
-to-brain sensation play. A second organ enters the picture complicating things more.
And the bonding? At the level I discovered? In a soul-deep relationship based on consensual power exchange?
It's a timeless, forever thing. I swear. He and I have together confronted angels, devils and even death.
If a bus runs over me tomorrow I will find Sir again whether in heaven or another cycle thru some physical existence. Reunion. Rebirth. He and I will come together again. So we can
cum
together again. It's inevitable, for I
absolutely know
we are that tightly bonded. Skin to hearts to brains. Looping back from brains to hearts to skin.
Makes me tremble thinking about it.
... ... ...
Where was I? Oh, the four somatosensory pleasures... Like
pressure
-pleasure...
Soft pressure or hard. Rough pressure or smooth. And there's external pressure...
Leading to
internal
pressure... usually saved for the end... mmm
And we can't leave out pressure's opposite (I'm going to say it slowly here 'cause the word is so gorgeous)...
r e - l e a s e...
Sounds like a slow sigh, doesn't it. Like when you're coming down from cumming... double mmm
But we're not ready to talk about cumming yet. This is about the sensory pleasures that come when pressure eases off. When it's
released
.
Here's an example girls will appreciate -- when a cock pressures you from the inside, pushing deep as it can go, then pulls back. Eases off. Re-
leasing
that gorgeous cunt-strangling force you were feeling while it was in there. Pulling back, like, all the way to the head?
Ssss... so good, so good,
right girls
?
There's that delicious midpoint when it's not quite pulling at the walls of your pussy, it's not quite pushing, it's trapped there by your tight pelvic muscles and his mushroom shaped glans? Right?
Splendid sensation.
Then he goes back to pounding you.
Presses
that cock inside, sometimes all the way to the cervix...
Then again. And a-gain. And a-gain. In a rhythm...
flock, flock, flock
...
Ok, now I'm ready to talk about cumming.
Wait, just kidding. But hang on while I get a Kleenex...
Better now. Not so drippy.
Anyhow... A second type of somato-pleasure is
heat.
The pleasures of being warm, or of being warmed by something or someone. Maybe the friction of skin rubbing against skin, whether outside the body or
inside
where cock skin is stretching tight against the walled surface of our pussies. Or the slick sides of our mouths. Our even our dry, tight asses.
...Oh shut up, most of you girls have done that and been fine with it. Many of you relish it. Some of you
