The girl turned onto her stomach and spread trembling beneath his hands, her body warming the thick layer of Homer's "liquid gold" to a high, bright sheen. His hands reached across the Gobi desert that was her back and shoulders, slid down the soft, rippling dunes of her Sahara, and plied her gently....at first.
His fingers pressed deep into her hot, aching need as he stroked up and down her flesh, electrifying every nerve and cell and bone in her body with his skilled and patient touch, breathing life into her stillness as if she were an instrument beneath him. His hands sang into her like the wild vibrations of a hair-strung bow against tightly stretched sinew.
The oil poured out with the sound of spring water on stones, a deep, gentle gurgle, bubbling up and out, over and under, into and out of the archways of her soul from within the deep center, the hot molten center of the earth.
When the girl awoke, she knew exactly what she must do. And so, without further adieu, she did.
Click here to adopt your very own olive tree!
The Odyssey, Book XXIII, [The Trunk of the Olive Tree]
by Homer Translated by Robert Fitzgerald
An old trunk of olive
grew like a pillar on the building plot,
and I laid out our bedroom round that tree,
lined up the stone walls, built the walls and roof,
gave it a doorway and smooth-fitting doors.
Then I lopped off the silvery leaves and branches,
hewed and shaped that stump from the roots up
into a bedpost, drilled it, let it serve
as model for the rest. I planed them all,
inlaid them all with silver, gold and ivory,
and stretched a bed between--a pliant web
of oxhide thongs dyed crimson.
There's a nice mention of Susie Bright's X along with an interesting discussion taking place over at Bust Magazine on Erotica and whether readers "get off" on it. Some of the comments are rather fascinating, especially to me as a writer.