"Well, that was...something."
Carol and Henrietta were back in the car and back on the road, putting the Temple of Zenriah, the city of New Deastone, and the myriad of permanently naked women living in it behind them. Both were still damp from the time they each spent bathing in the grotto, the redhead having done so sometime after Carol and Celeste left, giving her even more time to spend with the nude Zenrists.
"Huh," was all Carol could say in response to her girlfriend.
"I expected a lot of things when we came here. I expected to see plenty of naked women. I expected to see plenty of naked you. But I did not expect to get laid in a place of worship. No, I wasn't just laid; I was in an orgy! They were all over me! It was like I was in a cocoon made up of hot, sweaty naked girls! I couldn't see, could barely breathe, and everywhere, people were rubbing their breasts and pussies and tongues and whatever else all over me. I didn't think I'd ever get out and that I'd be trapped inside them forever."
"Huh."
"Not that I didn't enjoy it, of course. It was actually really hot. I...think I want to get involved in more things like that in the future. Or at least more threesomes if that's possible. And I may have to experiment with some erotic asphyxiation, if that's okay with you. Oh, and the way they came all over me...it was like nothing I ever experienced. Have you ever been orgasmed on by six girls at once, love? At least, I think it was six, it was hard to tell. There could have been seven or eight of them, maybe even more. But it was amazing. One girl came all over my face, two on each of my boobs, and there were others on my thighs, my shins, my stomach, my butt, my hair, my back...it was like I was taking a shower inside a giant pussy!"
"Huh."
"Of course, it was a bit awkward once they all pulled away from me. I was completely drenched in girl-juice head-to-toe. It was dripping all over me, and I had trouble seeing ahead because it was all in my eyes. But even that felt kind of nice. Every drop that ran down me was like a little finger massaging my skin. It felt especially good whenever something slid down my ass or between my lips. It was like they were still on me, pleasuring me from every angle. Ohhh, I almost didn't want to rinse it all off when I went into that underground grotto of theirs."
"Huh."
"I, um...don't know if I actually learned anything about Zenrism, though. How did you fare? Did you have any fun exploits?"
Carol finally found the energy to say a complete sentence. "The priestess and I tribbed in the underground grotto."
"Really? That's it? All those girls, and you only did it with
one
of them? Well, I hope she was really, really good."
Carol closed her eyes. "Celeste was...she was something else completely."
She didn't say anything else. She only sat in her chair, back completely straight in an almost meditative pose, and smiled warmly as she remembered how wonderful the priestess was, and how she wanted to lay with her again. Just thinking of her was enough to make her shiver all over. Especially from between her legs.
"And...?" said Henrietta after a moment passed.
"And what?" Carol responded, opening her eyes and coming out of her reverie.
"Give me some details, love! What did she feel like? Was she soft? Was she strong? Did she handle you roughly or gently? Did her hair run like silk through your fingertips? How fast was her boob jiggle?"
"Uh, well, she..." Carol went silent. The memories of her encounter with the priestess were still fresh in her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, she found herself back in that pool of water, sitting astride the woman's lap as she was rubbed against her form like a big, moist sponge. She remembered every tender stroke, every forceful push, every loving kiss Celeste gave her. And with them, she recalled every pleasurable sensation her body experienced. Every flare in her core, every tremble in her spine, every throb in her nipples, every curl in her toes...
A sudden poke in her arm broke her out of her trance again. "Carol?" Henrietta asked, looking confused and somewhat concerned. "You're doing it again."
"Yeah, sorry, it's just...I...can't possibly provide a good answer that would satisfy you with words alone."
That's what Celeste said when I asked her to describe Zenrism to me. Huh...
"Hmph, fine. Keep your secrets," Henrietta muttered, clearly not satisfied.
Carol gave her an apologetic shrug and turned her gaze out the window to watch the world zip by. She wished she could have answered her friend's inquiries, properly describe her experience with the priestess, or at the very least give Henrietta something to fantasize about later. But she couldn't. Even if she was able to describe the sex in perfect detail, she didn't know how she would describe what the priestess said to her throughout. Or maybe she didn't think Henri would believe her if she did. Or maybe she wasn't so comfortable talking about it herself. Celeste's words perturbed Carol just as much as they fascinated her. They made the mother think that there was something to the priestess and what she represented, made her think that Zenrism was more than just some kooky cult with lesbian nudists...but no, it couldn't have been! It couldn't have happened. The woman couldn't have known so much about Carol, couldn't have learned so much about her just from having sex with her.
Truth be told, Carol had a hard time thinking of the experience with the priestess as completely real. It felt like a fever dream at the time, and it felt more like one right now.
"Will you at least tell me what that book is you brought in with you?" said Henrietta.
"Oh, this?" said Carol, glancing down at the tome she had been holding firmly in her lap. "Celeste told me this was their holy scripture. She suggested I read it."
"Oh really? Are you considering converting?" Henrietta's trademark sly grin started to spread across her face.
Carol snorted in response. "I think it's a little too early to drop everything I've ever known and swear eternal allegiance to a goddess I don't for a moment think exists!"
"So what if you have to swear allegiance to a goddess that doesn't exist? This whole thing was made for you, love! They're all nudists, you're a nudist. They're all lesbians, you're a lesbian. Or bi or whatever...you like girls, that's all that matters. They like sex, you like sex. Seems like a match made in heaven to me, or whatever paradise those Zenrists believe in. I've seen people find religion for less, you know. Take my uncle; he converted to Judaism just for the jokes."
"So you're saying it's okay for me to convert to Zenrism just so that I can run around naked all the time?"
"Yes! That's what you've always wanted, isn't it? We came to New Deastone to see if there was a way to get you naked forever, and we found a way to get you naked forever. So if all you need to do to get naked forever is convert to this wacky religion, I say go for it!"
"What are you doing, secret missionary work for them?" Carol deadpanned.
"Hey, I think this world could use a few more naked ladies in it. If that makes me a Zenrist missionary, then call me a Zenrist missionary!"
You're certainly acting like one
, Carol thought with an amused roll of her eyes. "I'll...think about it. Though I guess for the time being, I'll just read their book."
"Good idea. Hopefully it'll convince you."
***
Love was all Zenriah desired, love was all Zenriah needed, and love was all Zenriah could never attain.
Blessed and cursed with beauty like no other, all beings within the domain of the Ether sought the hand of the Goddess to be their own. To look upon Her form was to gaze into the light of a thousand suns, to hear Her voice was to hear the rebirthing of Creation, and to feel Her warm touch was to plunge one's being into the honey-scented glow of stardust. All hungered for the Goddess. All prostrated before the Goddess. All bled for the Goddess. All killed for the Goddess.
But Zenriah could not love them the way they wished to be loved. And they could not love Her the way she needed to be loved. But the more their advances She denied, the more suffering was spilled in Her name.
So Zenriah spirited away, never to return, to find that which She wanted throughout the greater Cosmos.
For too long She looked. Over stars and through planets, round moons and in storms. She ascended mountains high and descended oceans low. And still Her travels turned up naught. No love was She to ever find.
Then one eon, while bathing in the ocean, the Goddess finally found what she longed for. An enchantress like no other, radiating a kindness and a light and a beauty no being had ever possessed in all of Zenriah's travels. So delighted was She to find her at long last, Zenriah reached Her hands out to grasp Her love and never let her go.
It was only Her reflection.
And so the Goddess wept, plunging Her tears into the sea and on the reflection of Her being that She could never have. Cruel were the Cosmos for denying Her the one thing She longed for above all else, cursing Her to an eternity of loneliness and isolation. Never would She ever find the love she hungered for, and never would She find that whom She would love with all Her soul.
But in Zenriah's grief came inspiration. For looking upon Her perfect visage, distorted by the ripples created through Her tears, came the answer to Her ailing heart. The love She desired was not be found from without, but conjured from within.
And so the Goddess dipped her hands into the clay. Through rigorous work, she kneaded and molded it, bringing shape to that which lacked form, bringing substance to that which lacked soul, bringing meaning to that which lacked purpose. She breathed out all that She desired in Her lover, all that She wished to see, all that She wished to feel, all that She wished to love in her creation. And She formed it all on that which She found most perfect, most wondrous, most beautiful.
Her self.
At long last, Zenriah finished Her work and stared in wonder at Her creation, taking in every detail that She had molded with Her own hands. Soft tender curves. Taut rippling muscle. Flowing hair atop her crown. A sweet-smelling rose.
Silken flesh to devour. Sumptuous breasts to be grasped. Hands to hold Her in turn. And a gentle, melodious voice crying out for warmth..
