The First Lady

What I remember first, while awakening, was the scent of fruits that surrounded me on all sides, and I named them as they occurred to me: quince. Banana. Apple. Peach. I rose slowly, uncertainly, in this place in which I had never been. Trying my feet, attached to long legs, so spindly compared to those of other creatures—will I be able to walk? Gratefully, I was, and heaved a sigh of relief, as I moved through the bush to the sound of running water. This sound was the first I heard that compelled me; it is also what probably woke me.

In the stream leading from the small waterfall were fish and birds, with the fish swimming upstream and the birds building nests. If they are drinking this water, than so can I. I squatted, my knees bent at acute angles, and cupped my hands into the clear, cool water, lifting them to my lips to drink. When the shade covered me, I could see my reflection in the water: curvy body, but otherwise remarkably tall and thin, too much so to be able to walk upright; long hair on the head, but much less elsewhere; lips sticking out on a predator’s face, with hands that looked capable of anything.

I also saw the reflection of another, who looked like me, except for his body being straight as an arrow, peering at me cautiously from his place in the bush. I turned around, stared back like a deer, and he emerged, revealing another difference, his sex, straight as an arrow. I glanced down at my own sex: triangular from my vantage, with a practical-looking slit.

“You must be my side,” he said, in a surprisingly gentle voice.

I took his hand, his hand that looked as complicated and capable as mine. His skin was so dark and red-toned that I looked pale next to him. He drew me up, standing, and we looked into each others’ eyes. It was clear how he knew me and how he knew my name. Cognizance had told him.

Above us was a canopy of vines, of ivies and figs, tall trees that allowed only small chinks of the heavens to peer through and reach the Earth. Birds sat pecking at the full grapes as this man pulled me close, close enough for me to smell him. I inhaled his musk and put my hands on his face, pulling his mouth to my lips, and he bid me. My lips moved on his, his kissing warming yet tentative, until our tongues met. The tip of my tongue touched the flat of his, causing him to throw his head back; I followed, eagerly, our tongues deep in my mouth, exploring, his tongue darting snake-like around my lips, my teeth grazing his lips while his tongue cajoled my mouth, the fluids of us collecting in a somewhat clumsy manner.

I put my arms around his waist and held him close to me, feeling his sex rising, hard and straight, between us; I used my hands to feel his body, tracing a thumb along his back, his lower back, his ass, then threading and raking my fingers through his hair, which was softer than grass, softer than water. He grabbed my left hand and placed it on his sex.

Taking a step back, I admired him, his chest, which was flat, his broad shoulders, much wider than mine. I knelt to inspect his legs, which were similar to mine, but thicker, and placed a spidery hand on his kneecap, closing my fingers. With that, he groaned and stooped down to pick me up. Surprised, I let out a small yelp, though not of alarm.

His face deep in the crook between my neck and shoulder, he bit and kissed me there, then sucked hard on my earlobes, gnashing them between his teeth—a peculiar caress, I thought, even as it caused blood to pool in my lower body and for me to feel overheated. Taking an earlobe of his between my own teeth, I returned the favor, and we kissed and sucked fervently on necks and shoulders, pausing for our tongues to meet and make circular our union.

At once, I felt I was falling, tumbling to Earth, only to realize he was setting me down on the grass. I gazed up at him through lowered lashes, realizing that my eyelids had been mostly closed as he and I feasted on each other. Coaxing my arms aside, he kneeled over me and touched my breasts, these two organs that must have appeared very strange to him. The gesture was controlling of me, and I found that I cried out in order to secure it; he gave my right breast a squeeze and bent his head down to it, his tongue encircling my dark nipple on its darker areola, tracing with his tongue concentric circles. The tip of my nipple he reserved for maddening licks, as though plucking berries, until I held his head down with my own hands and he relented, sucking the tips of my nipples while holding my breasts firmly. His hair flowed over me, creating a soft cover, a veil like the vine canopies above us, providing a musky scent that I inhaled deeply, his hair tickling my face like butterflies.

I looked up and saw his sex, straight out and pointed at my face, and reached out for it. He laid on his side, my hand on his sex, and it was remarkable to me that his sex had so metamorphosed. My hands went up and down his sex, his shaft turning dark and his glans turning a darker red, my fingers loose and cupping his sex, my fingertips touching. How clever of his sex to come wrapped in such a way so as to be protected and to be so easily moved. I peeled it back and moved it up, examining it in all of its incarnations. A glistening fluid, in tiny drops, emerged, looking beautiful as a spider web.

He placed his face on my breast, shaking his head, murmuring and purring, and I rubbed a hand down his back, over his ass. With a shift of our bodies, he placed my hands over my head and his own on my breasts, going down, past my stomach, past my mons and fitted his palm to my sex. He pressed his palm, firmly, on my clitoris, on the mound, and moved his hand up and down. Soon, I felt a sensation like pine needles on my face, and I felt much too warm, and reached out to put my arms around him. He allowed this, but maintained his distance enough for his handiwork, allowing my arms to only go so far around him, really just my fingers around his waist.

He opened the lips of my sex, revealing what there was to the open air and to his gaze, and used his fingers to caress my clitoris, my vulva, all the lips which were now opened. I felt stiff and my sex felt irritated, the pine needles feeling again, but felt waves crashing over me, in succession, as he kept going. Flailing my arms a little and unable to keep my feet and legs still, it must have been a task for him to stay out of the way of accidentally being kicked as I carried on, carried away by rushes of warmth and coolness, by surges and waves. Without meaning to, I panted for a moment.

My thighs splayed in my throes, he took his sex and placed it near mine, wetting his in the fluids of mine, so abundant and fragrant and they competed with the scent of the nearby stream. Almost as if by accident, his sex entered the very edge of mine and I enveloped him very slightly; an excellent idea, I thought, pulling him closer onto me, and I took his sex and enveloped it completely, which must have surprised him. He let out an “oomph!” and started to move on top of me, his back and ass arching to push his sex in and out of mine. When he thrusted out, his sex emerged damp with humidity and glistening in the morning light. I Shifted my legs, pulling a knee up to my chest, feeling the heat in my chest and in his, his sweaty brow dripping sweat onto me as he grunted, and he tried to turn my body around on his sex. I enveloped him tighter, squeezing with my sex and with my body.

His articulation seemed to increase and I knew something was going to happen right before I felt a small amount of hot fluid pouring into me just as his thrusting seemed too hard to keep up with. He exhaled deeply in my hair and held me tight, as I put my arms tight around his sweaty back, glorying in him, looking up at the canopy of vines above me, and noticing the birds chirping. He exhaled and sighed heavily, then again. Raising his body, his sex, again metamorphosed, left my body.

I kissed his neck and face several times.

“I’m hungry,” I said. “Stay here and I will bring you something.” I got up, my legs weakened but still working, and sauntered to the apple tree.