Читать книгу Adamonde - Benjamin Vance - Страница 5

A throbbing somewhere in his body woke him. All was confusion until he realized it was his penis throbbing. It was so hard it felt like blue twisted steel; hot inside of her again … or still. She raised her head and smiled at him, sleepily. Then she yawned with a little long crystalline twitter, surprising even herself, and smiled. He got a front-row seat to her strange pink, feminine mouth.

At the base of her tongue was a fenestration which matched one in the roof of her mouth, when her mouth was closed. That arrangement apparently allowed her to breathe through her nostrils, but he wondered how she swallowed. Her tongue curled a little on the end and was connected well to her mandible via a thin vertical membrane. It was as long as a human’s tongue, but flatter and more beautifully translucent somehow. Apparently, there were no vocal cords, so he wondered how she “spoke” when she whispered.

Birds and reptiles have similar arrangements and birds have bifurcated major bronchi containing a structure called a syrinx; similar to vocal cords. That’s how some parrots form words and phrases, and how birds vocalize. He wondered if reading minds could have evolved through lack of other speech capabilities, but why would it? She chimed her approval, but he didn’t know if it was the wonderful peristalsis she was generating or confirmation of what he was thinking at the time.

Later, while idly inspecting her small, six-toed feet, which were still a bit dirty on their bottoms, he noticed a small, crusty, vaginal-like orifice on the rear of her dimpled heels. The area distal to the orifice was depressed, similar to the indented area of a cleft chin. Cautiously, he examined the opening by laying his little finger in the indent and pushing against the opening, she chirped, withdrew her foot and tried to distract him with her hands and fluctuating irises. He looked at her and asked, “What are those holes for, beautiful lady?” He smiled a little, but he didn’t put his finger in the channel again. She cocked her head to one side, then grabbed his inquisitive little finger and held it under his own nose; it stank like musk. He said, “Ah, musk glands, huh. I wonder what you use musk for. Do you spread it when and where you walk? Can you control it, like your cinnamon?”

Presenting her beautiful wet posterior for his private enjoyment, she crawled her little naked form down to reciprocate by inspecting his heels. Finding no holes during her exploration, she moved back to luxuriously entangle herself in his legs, body and wet spots again. Lying on her left side with her head close and on his pillow, she used her right hand to move his head and direct his eyes to her right leg which she held above them both. He watched as she flexed her knee to a 45 degree angle, and then rapidly extended her leg toward the ceiling producing an audible snap. A bony, moist, serrated spike about six inches long protruded from the rear of her heel.

He turned to look at her and said, “My God girl that’s quite a weapon. I wonder how it’s used.” She smiled and chortled, but when he made a move to feel it she quickly flexed her leg to retract it, screeched and firmly pulled his arm away. Not having fallen off the turnip truck yesterday, he raised his eyebrows and said, “Poison, huh?”

She chortled in agreement, rubbed his chest with pulsating velvet fingers, and snuggled up to his chin while laying her right lethal weapon comfortably across his groin. He quietly inspected his arm where she grabbed it to stop his inspection. There were red finger hash-marks which would probably bruise. She somehow tinkled she was sorry and hugged him closer, entangled him more and pulled up the covers with the toes of her right foot, handed them off to her right hand, covered them both and snuggled down into the covers and his body.

After that strange episode and all their love-making, he wondered how she could not be hungry. He was famished and his stomach growled at the thought; she opened her eyes wide, looked at him, and then slid her head down under the covers toward the sound, placing her left ear on his abdomen. Her right hand still toying with wet cinnamon-smelling things at his groin, she turned to look at him with surprise and curiosity written on her face, and within his/her mind. He said, “Another kind of peristalsis, beautiful.” She smiled and emitted a low growl while looking at him from under the bedclothes like a sexy Mother Teresa.

“Would you like something to eat? I have just about everything in the larder.”

She whispered the question, “W-hheat?”

He made a motion of eating, by inserting his fingers into his mouth.

She squeaked and looked surprised. He smiled broadly and said, “No, not eat me; other food.” He pointed to the kitchen and then took her there. He put a robe around her; she shrugged it off. He mimicked being cold and she wrapped herself around him again. She was still very wet with his semen and her sweet fluids, so before he wrapped his own robe around them both, he grabbed a few soft moist towelets and tenderly dried her. She seemed to enjoy it.

As he went through his samples of food; cheese, meat, vegetables, bread and such, she seemed to like the taste of the cheeses most of all. Then he opened a can of potato soup and she attempted to take it from his hand and eat it cold. However, he did manage to keep her from devouring it until it was warmed. She took her choice of utensils, which was a fork and when it leaked too much for her satisfaction, he showed her how to use a spoon. It was like feeding himself, with her wrapped around him. He finally managed to un-monkey her and get her seated on a cushioned dining chair and covered her with a bright yellow flowered scarf, which she found appealing. She put it over her head and let it cover her breasts, which he frankly found a bit relieving.

She sang some catchy little crystalline song as she ate, and looked at him periodically with a big incisor smile. She had potato soup all over face and chin, but it wasn’t due to being sloppy; it was the huge spoon she selected after discarding the fork on the floor. It was much larger than her mouth. When she finished the soup, she went to the pantry to sample other things. He noticed she left a wet spot on the cushion, so he put down a bath towel. When she came back squeezing some marshmallows in a bag she removed the towel, noticed the wet spot and replaced the towel with a smile and dilated pupils. She squeezed the first extracted marshmallow between two thumbs, growled and looked at him for approval. He said, “Go ahead they’re good.”

She bit it and he thought he heard another muted growl. Next, she put it all in her mouth and moved it around. She looked very pleased with herself, smiled, started to sing or something and got choked. Then she looked disconcerted and very pitiful. He rushed to help, realizing she couldn’t breathe. He said, “Open your mouth.” She wouldn’t. He tried to stick his fingers in and got as far as her gums. She then saw what he was trying to do and did it herself. Why it hadn’t occurred to her, he simply couldn’t understand. To humans it was a simple reflex action.

Then he realized through her, that in her home they ate only solid foods and thin liquids, which never caused a problem, but didn’t taste as wonderful as the soft white things. She wanted more marshmallows, got them and caused him no little anxiety as she ate five more without choking. However, he noticed she kept one ever-pulsating finger at the ready, in front of her ever-smiling face.

He just sat and watched, utterly enthralled. At one point, she went by the dining room mirror and glanced at her own reflection. She stopped, did a double-take at the food on her face and he swore she giggled. She came to him smiling innocently with her chin tilted up, to show the remnants up close and he removed a small bit with his finger and put it in his own mouth. Her face suddenly lost all expression, she straddled his lap and her irises began to fluctuate. She moved to his face and licked his lips.

The hot texture of her tongue startled and thrilled him, and he intuitively knew what she wanted. He started tentatively by delicately licking her lips; she growled, held her chin high and closed her eyes. Then he began systematically removing every vestige of food from her face, chin and lips by slowly and tenderly licking them clean. He stopped licking her face after they were both adequately aroused, and after she was fairly clean; inserted his tongue under her upper lip, moved it slowly back and forth over her dental arcade and felt her trembling hot tongue move to the underside of his. Judging by her cacophony of sounds, it seemed to drive her wild. She finally growled deeply, opened his robe, positioned herself to pull him inside, hurled the scarf to the floor and presented her breasts for licking too. He soon smelled sweet, warm cinnamon again.