Lamia

I remember when I first saw her. We were both attending some function or other – a party? – and our eyes met across the lobby. She raised an eyebrow and smirked at me. Yes she really smirked. I don't think I had ever been smirked at before; it made me very uneasy, and I couldn't tell why, which made me uneasier still. This I certainly could tell: she fascinated me from that moment on. That gaze, that smirk, as if she knew me instantly, knew what I wanted, knew my innermost desires, knew things about me that I did not even know myself. I had to dismiss those thoughts, but could not, even though I felt – what? – rather silly for even considering them.

Later she asked me to dance. That I shall never forget. They were playing Kraftwerk's "Computerliebe" when she simply came up to me, took my right hand in her left, and led me to the centre of the room. Her fingers were entwined in mine, and she put her right arm around my waist, drawing me to her. We were the only couple dancing. Two women. We drew stares, but I did not care – she made me not care. She took away my power to care or not care. I found it had been sucked from me!

"Ich brauch' ein Rendezvous, Ich brauch' ein Rendezvous ..."

I did not need a "rendezvous", or so I told myself, without much conviction. I did not need to advertise my sexuality like this – I had a perfectly nice girlfriend back home, no frills, no great neon sign above our heads. Dancing with this strange, new woman unsettled me; the warmth of her body was more than pleasant, it was exciting. She had one cheek against mine. Occasionally she whispered things in my ear – things I do not want to repeat to you right now – occasionally she lightly kissed or nibbled my ear. Unsettling –yes. Arousing – yes.

I have not told you what she looked like. I will not tell you! But listen to this – imagine the woman of your dreams. Now – forget that image, invert it, imagine her total physical opposite, but infinitely more fascinating, more bewitching, more beautiful, sexier than in your wildest fantasy. If you can capture that in your mind, you have an idea of her, and of how come she unsettled me. I wonder if you realise why I wanted her so much.

Why did I pull away from her after we had danced? Why did I leave the party early? Probably the same reason why I avoided her after that. Everywhere she was likely to be, I avoided. I probably offended her. It was only when I woke with a start from a dream one night, that I remembered – there was something about her which reminded me of the Lamia of my childhood nightmares, of the woman who came to suck away the life-blood of children. I had read about her in a book of myths, and she had terrified me ever since. And fascinated me. That was what my strange, new woman had – fascination with danger, danger with fascination, the notion that if I succumbed to her I would lose my life...

A time came when I could not avoid her any longer. We were at another party. Once more our eyes met, only this time I saw merriment in hers. Oh yes the danger was still there, but her smile was warmer, or so it seemed to me – no longer a smirk, as if her mockery of me was forgotten.

We danced again, we drew stares again, she held me close again, I didn't care again! I let her hold me close, luxuriated in her warmth, accepted the kisses she placed on my neck as though she was indeed drawing my blood, and I was content. I returned kisses, I returned murmurs, I pressed myself against her hip-bone and let the swaying of our dance arouse me. I forgot my girlfriend back home, and began to recognise a mounting hunger for my Lamia.

"Much more of this," I whispered to her. "And I will come against you – right here!"

"I'd rather you came on my face!" she said right back, and I felt my cheeks instantly go scarlet at her directness. I swallowed hard, and nodded. She kept hold of my hand, and led me from the room. I followed like a sheep. More stares.

She pulled me into the nearest empty room, I guess – it hardly registered – shutting the door behind her. I glanced at it, nervous of being discovered, but she grinned as if the possibility of discovery excited her. Between hasty kisses, and as she tugged at my clothes, she talked to me...

"I want you to drench my face with your come," she said. "I want to taste you, I want to drink you, I want to drink all the nectar you can make!"

I was shivering, partly at the coolness of the air against my hot, bare flesh, but mostly at her lascivious words. She sank to the floor, pulling me down after her so that I straddled her face, and then she began! She made short work of me, I can tell you, as our dancing had left me half-coming already. Can I say precisely what she did? No, except I knew that her fingers and tongue were lashing at me, that she had my clit caught somehow in a delicious trap, and that she was also rubbing my tenderest inside-place. For my own part, I could do nothing except ride her face, and ride the climax that she was calling up in me. I bit my lip to stop from crying out, but gasps escaped me nonetheless. Though my pulse was singing in my ears, I could hear the sound of the party, and knew that it was possible that someone would hear me if I cried out. Down below, she was relentless with her licking and probing, and I began to boil over. I could feel my wetness running like a river as I arched my back, shut my eyes, and came as hard as I ever have. I know I did cry out – a wordless shout, more a forced exhalation. One massive shock of an orgasm, several tiny aftershocks, and I felt drained. I felt satisfied. Strange to tell I felt a little ashamed of myself for the swiftness with which I had come, and the selfish way I felt I had abandoned myself to that orgasm.

I had slumped, and realised that I must have settled a little too much upon her face. Hoping that I wasn't suffocating her, I moved off her and looked down. Even soaked in my juices, even with her hair plastered, and with a transported look in her eyes, she was beautiful. I had never seen such beauty in a woman, and right at that moment she was my whole world!

We held each other. We kissed – I even licked her face – and she laughed. I loved my own taste on her. I confess, I have always loved my own taste as much as any other woman's; whenever I masturbate, it has always been my habit to change hands and suck my fingers! I love the similarity and the subtle differences between my own taste and someone else's, and here I was experiencing my own on her lips and tongue, breathing in my own scent as it dried on her face and hair.

As we held each other, she made little noises in her throat, like tine, feral animal-growlings. And she looked at me with her shining eyes. She called me by a spur-of-the-moment pet name, which has stuck with me ever since, and which I will not share with you (it is private – sacred now – to us, as so many things are). After we had composed ourselves, re-dressed, tidied up, she held me close again; and this time the growl she made was loud. From her belly, it came up to her throat, and played around her bared teeth with the ferocity of a snarl. I noticed that her canines were indeed sharp, and for a moment felt as if I was in the grip of a real life Lamia. I felt like a gazelle in the grip of a lioness, and I knew what she was telling me. I had – we had – given way to an honest, animal lust, very basic, elemental. We had shared its intensity. We were one female animal, and I echoed her growl with one of my own. Softer, but heartfelt.

After that encounter we became hungry for each other's company and passion. It seemed to thrill her to take me in places where there was danger of discovery, and I, the more submissive, let myself ride along on this frisson. She introduced me to rimming – she was the first lover ever to thrust her tongue into my anus and to work at its strange tenderness, whilst maddening me with the drumbeats of her fingers on my clit. The orgasm I had the first time I received that treatment was a sunburst! Or more like having champagne dashed against my face and being launched down a slipway!

Then there came a day when I surprised her. My needs, my lust, made me switch off my submissive nature and take her! I grabbed her from behind, thrusting my hard nipples against her bare back, and grinding my sex against her buttocks. I took her lovely, round breasts in my hands and kneaded them, pulling and pinching at her nipples. I chewed at her neck and shoulders. I slid one hand down her front and teased her a little. She twisted her head round, as if to snap at me with her teeth, as if to resist what I was doing, and for a few moments we exchanged little snaps, growls, kisses. But I was having no resistance from her this time – I was determined to take her, to explore her.

I told her – I damned well ordered her! – to brace her hands on a chair arm and support herself. I kicked her legs apart, so that she was standing in a straddling position, and I knelt down. I do so love the shape of a woman's hips and behind, and I certainly loved hers. I ran my hands over them, felt where they were firm and where they gave. I even aimed a little slap at one cheek, to hear the delightful sound of palm against flesh. She twisted her head round.

"You'll have to spank me harder than that to get my attention," she said defiantly.

I looked up at her, and said, "Shut up!" I felt, to my own surprise, something in my tone which she too must have felt, because she simply turned back without demur.

With my thumbs and fingers I prized apart her cheeks. There was the sight I wanted to see – and it was as beautiful as I had imagined it to be. The sheer vulnerability of her anus amazed me – a darling, brown knot, a many-pointed radiant star. I touched one thumb-tip to its centre and gently pressed. She let out an "Ah!". Then I took the next step, tentatively, carefully, daring myself. For the first time ever, determined to repay her for our previous love-making, I approached my lover's anus with my tongue. Partly to tease, and partly to experiment, I made gentle touches and circles with my tongue-tip. She tried to move to meet my tongue, as if to force me to enter her with it. But no, no, no, my darling! This time I was in charge. The taste began to come through to me. There was a saltiness such as she had described when she had done this to me; what I sensed was hard and waxy, seeming to say "I am forbidden". But this was my time for exploring, and for ignoring "No-Trespassing" signs, and for giving my wonderful lover what she wanted and needed. My teasing circling done with, I pressed my face against her and thrust my tongue deep into her smooth, tight passage, taking the full taste, feeling her muscles move – resisting, yielding, resisting, yielding...

I snaked my right hand round her thigh, and let my fingers search blindly for her clitoris. There! With the fingers of my left hand I feathered her labia, teasing again with tickles and little strokes. All this time I forced her to take my tongue, feeling her move to meet my every thrust. She moaned, told me I was driving her crazy, and that she wanted me just to go for it all at once; but I was still in charge, and only increased pressure when I decided time was right. That time came when she was swaying and moaning with every breath, and running with juice. That was the moment I crooked two fingers of my left hand inside her to search for her most sensitive spot, and that was the moment I started to make my fingertip throb against her clit...

I kept up this gentle pressure, front, back, and middle, until she was begging me to let her come. But again, I was still in charge, and eased off; only when I was ready did I increase pressure all round. Suddenly I began to work my tongue frantically in her anus, to attack her clit with increased vibration, and to rub her G-spot for all I was worth. When she came she howled, and she cried out my name! It has never sounded sweeter. She bucked and shook so furiously as she came that she almost shook herself free of me.

To me, there is nothing more lovely than cuddling after sex. I cuddled her to me. I kissed her, and she sucked at my tongue to capture her own hard, salty taste which it had picked up. Then we gently licked my fingers, both of us loving the sweetness of her sex-juices on them. Never before had taste played such an important part in love-making for me.

"I didn't know you could be so dominant," she said to me, golden flecks shining in her beautiful eyes.

"Sometimes I have no idea whether I'm being dominant, submissive, or what!" I said. "I just make love. Making love with you is very special. You are bringing out things in me I had forgotten were there – or rather things I never knew were there in the first place. Animal feelings, basic woman calling to woman. Something totally feral. Something almost inhuman. I am even jealous of all the previous experience you have had – already jealous of any future experience. Oh goddess – what an aphrodisiac jealousy is!

We rested our foreheads together, looked into each other's eyes. Then she began to growl; and I growled too. We locked fingers together, and for a moment struggled with each other, neither giving way. Then, as if at a signal, we both relaxed, and she kissed me.

"It's the Animal You," she said. "And I love it. What's more, you NEVER have to be jealous..."

Then at last she told me her name. Her sweet name, her secret name, her sacred name, known only to a few. That made me feel honoured, blessed loved. No, I will not tell it to you!

Our hunger for each other's company did not abate. We made time - getting up early, going to bed late, simply to create time for each other from our busy lives. Sometimes I even managed to find an opportunity to stay the night with her. For my part I had never wanted anyone so much, never had such a heady rush of lust, emotion, and adrenalin!

I will tell you about our most recent love-making. It was the most amazing of my entire life. Merely to describe it to you would not be enough – you would have to be inside my skin. Imagine the contrast of warmth and cold, as she took an ice-cube in her mouth, and kissed my neck and shoulders; the rasp of her fingernails along my spine; another ice-cube held against my erect nipples; fingers being dug into my shoulders and buttocks as she sucked and chewed my breasts. Then a wonderful moment when she pushed me back onto her bed and spread my legs, searching with her fingers for my opening ... and the utter bliss as, one by one, her fingers entered me!

There was something I needed to happen for the first time ever. I am used to having two fingers in me vagina during love-making, and no more; on one occasion she had probed with three, and although I had sucked in my breath and winced as if in pain, I knew then that I yearned to be stretched! She knew my need, as if by instinct. She had three in me at that moment, and now began to insinuate a fourth. I was tense, and found it hard not to resist. There was something I needed to make me relax, something I needed to hear...

"You little slut!" she said, and I melted at that name-calling, knowing that she had got me! For years I had been denying what I was, who I was; I had admitted my sexuality, but denied by insatiable hunger, my promiscuity; I had held back, tried to deny that I was a slut and a whore! No more – my full awakening was about to happen!

"Bitch!" she said. "Take me in you, bitch!"

Suddenly – somehow – her whole hand had slid into my vagina, and was balled into a fist. She was, with every movement back and forth, touching every inner surface I had, or so it seemed. For a moment it was almost like a violation, almost degrading; and then I just succumbed to it...

"God, you are so tight!" she said.

I cared about nothing any more, as she began to move her hand rhythmically in me.

"Fuck me hard!" I begged.

"Shut up, slut!" she yelled at me. "I'm the one who will decide how you're going to be fucked!"

But nevertheless, fuck me hard is what she did. She took me to that balancing point between discomfort and pleasure, and – this is the only way I can describe it – fucked me hard with wonderful gentleness. There were times when I tensed so much I was sure I must have trapped her hand, but always some word, sound, or touch would relax me again, and I would feel the wonderful sensation of her fisting me rhythmically. My first time! It felt like losing my virginity all over again!

When I was driven towards orgasm, it seemed as though I began to lose my grip on reality – this was what was meant, I began to realise, by being fucked senseless. I was riding a wave – a massive tsunami – right towards a cliff where I was going to be dashed to pieces. The wave, the cliff, my death in the collision, all that was the orgasm that was building. And yet the wave and the cliff were her too. What was building up was as intense as it could get – there was a noise in my head that I could not place, until I realised that she was yelling at me...

"Scream my name, slut! Scream my name as you came, or I will NEVER fuck you again – NEVER! Do you hear me, slut? SCREAM MY NAME!"

And I did. As I crashed headlong into that cliff, as I died a thousand times, as I fell into a black hole, as I came, and came, and came, I screamed out her wonderful, glorious, divine name! The only name in the world. I screamed it, and screamed it, and screamed it over and over again, like some wild, passionate mantra until I was truly senseless.

I lost track of where I was. It may have been hours later that I came to in her arms. She is so extraordinarily tender, even after the most violent love-making. I looked into those wonderful, shining eyes, and know that there was no one in the world like my dark angel, my Lamia.

What now? What next? Where can we possibly go from here? Is there another peak beyond the one we have just climbed? I hope with all my heart and soul that there is, because I would be devastated to lose her!

Lamia, my darling – if we ever do burn out, and you feel you must leave me and move on, then I beg you to come to me in some golden, terrifying nightmare and drain my life from me. I beg you to do this because no death could be worse than waking up to a world without your brilliance and your passion. Or better still, infect me with your dreadful immortality, and let me wander the eternal nightmare-time in your intoxicatingly feral company. Any other fate – for me – would be like having my womanhood ripped away!