Note: This story about Kathye Diamondâs sexual adventures follows a trilogy that started with âTales of Kathyeâs Tail: Episode Oneâ, continued with âThe Movie,â and concluded with âThe Ice Storm.â In âFrom Ashes The Phoenix Rises,â Kathye recalls that eventful evening of the ice storm when she is stranded alone with her lover, Jake, and his friend, James, and is seduced into satisfying their sexual appetites, her first threesome. Now that Jake is on a business trip she is lonely and her recollections of those hours of forced sex kindles her smoldering passions. Because Jake is not available to satisfy her needs, Kathye seeks out James at the university where both he and she are professors. Its Saturday and the university is down for the weekend, but Kathye finds James in his office with another woman, and from a hidden position, watches the sexy blonde suck Jamesâ cock. Hurt, deeply, Kathye runs back to her office and tries to keep James from knowing that she has watched him having sex.
In the second of this current sequence, seven days later, â Fucked Again and I Forgive Him,â the memory of the other woman sucking Jamesâ cock makes her even more horny and she schemes, trying to justify her motives with innocent excuses, to get James to fuck her before Jake arrives home from his business trip. Part of her plan works, but part doesnât.
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It is April and Jake is out of town, in Washington D.C. for a meeting. He is gone a lot these days, even more than in past years. It is the new programs he has going, funded by the U.S. Department of Labor. Every time he starts a new batch of programs he spends many days away from home just trying to get things started. He is good at writing grants, very good, but they keep him away from home.
We havenât had sex in almost a week and I am getting very horny. I need it at least two or three times a week, and with Jake gone so much of the time, I am spending more time pleasuring myself than I really want to. Not that I donât enjoy the things I do to myself, because I do. In fact, I like it very much. But I really like sex with a man. Its more satisfying. Besides, when I do myself, I miss all the kissing and having my tits sucked, not to mention having my pussy licked. I really like that kind of stuff, and Jake is very good at it. And sucking a hard cock? Mmmmmmmmm! I love it.
I am cleaning house, trying to forget the ache between my legs. I have already vacuumed the bedrooms, mopped the hardwood floors in the kitchen, and am dusting the living room furniture. But I remember I have not cleaned the winter ashes from the fireplace. I really didnât use it much this past winter because I installed a new central heating system. With my new job at the University I seldom got home early enough to build a fire and enjoy it anyway.
I open the door to the insert to see just how many ashes are still there. Not many. I try to remember when I last built a fire. When was it? At the end of winter? Maybe during the chilly months of first spring. Oh no! Now I remember! Yes! It was that night, the night of the great ice storm. I blush just thinking about it. I look longingly at the cold ashes. These are the ashes from the fire Jake built that night. How long ago was it? Four months? Five months? It seems so long ago, almost as if it happened in another life, in a dream. These ashes may be cold now, but that night the fire that created these ashes was hot, very hot. And so was I, so were the three of us.
I think of that night, often, sometimes with disbelief, often embarrassment, but always with great excitement. Jut the memory of it causes a tingle between my legs, makes my stomach quiver, my mouth water. But today... alone, lonesome for Jake, needing sex, and looking at the very ashes created that night, the images captured forever in my memory come alive stronger then ever, the howling winds from the storm, sleet beating on the window panes, naked bodies bronzed by flickering flames, my living room dark except for the orange tongues of fire burning shadows of three naked bodies onto the walls, three naked bodies intertwined, hands groping, bodies heaving with passions hotter than the burning wood.
It is as if the ashes have been there all these months, through the winter cold and into springâs rebirth, waiting for me, for the three of us to rekindle the heat that imprisoned us that night, that pushed us into a great cauldron of boiling passion, sweeping us toward each other, with me at the center of it all. Two studs insane for sex, greedily using my body for their pleasure, forcing me, taking me, the both of them, together, alone, once, twice, three times, so many times I can no longer remember. They touched me gently, roughly, sucked my tits, licked my pussy, shoved their cocks inside me, made me suck them off, lick their balls..... They gave me no choice. They used me selfishly. And I loved every minute of it.
I crouch mesmerized before the fireplace, starring at the ashes, remembering. I have this great sensation that the ashes are alive, with a power of their own, a power over me. I want to touch them, but am almost afraid to, afraid of being sucked into them, to live that night again, and again, and again. I know these feelings are just a reaction to my remembrances of that night, but still I feel compelled to give my flesh to these ashes, to let them take me as Jake and James did that blistery night.
Slowly I reach into the fireplace, hesitating, my heart beating rapidly, my breath heavy and short. I want to go back to that night, to live again those wonderful hours of reckless passion. And now I can do it, just by touching these fiery ashes, with just one finger, only one. The mysticism of the moment frightens me, the strength of the ashes causes me to shake inside. But the need for another ice storm, for another night by the fireplace with the two of them, is powerful. I lower one hand toward the ashes, my fingertips stroke the powdery grey softness. The ashes feel silky. I tremble at how delicate they are, the way I was delicate that night until the two studs drove me into a sexual wilderness. A feeling of deep satisfaction sweeps over me and I quickly push both hands beneath the ashes. The feeling is wonderful, sensual. The images of that night become vivid, intense. I remain there for what seems like hours, just feeling the wonderfulness of those magical ashes. The images remain only inside of me; The studs do not leap from the grey residue; I am not transported back into time, back to that night. By body does not feel their ravenous hands, their uncontrolled selfish lust. I want more than a recollection. My body screams for the touch of anotherâs flesh, for penetration.