View Full Version : Jade Munroe

Eve Adorer
05-22-2007, 05:44 PM
Jade Munroe
Synopsis: All must fall?

Jade Munroe
In the beginning it had always been the same. She never used Emily’s name.

At first Emily had assumed she was a student; then a postgraduate; then she had realised that, whatever her background, she was there every Saturday. She looked maybe twenty-two to twenty-five.

‘The Bookworm’ was a shady cool hide off the humid hot High Street. It was one of the latter day miracles that it had survived into the world of ‘Books R Us’, ‘shopping experiences’, and the newly found taste for ‘literature’ among the organic potatoes and feta cheese on the counters at every MaxMart Superstore.

The stock at ‘The Bookworm’ was cleverly selected, and covered from the sublime and wrongfully neglected, to the downright eclectic: a dark corner spe******m being ‘top-shelf’ classics.

The survival of ‘The Bookworm’ was no doubt aided by the fact that Barnmouth, ‘an undiscovered jewel on the south coast of England’, as the website, encouraging its consequently inevitable discovery, put it, was a ‘bookish’ place. Over half its population, were newcomers. Many had retired from Fordbridge, the historic university town fifty miles north inland - the locale where Emily worked in design and research. Their lecturing days over, they formed book clubs and those book clubs needed intellectual kindling.

Emily McVane, forty-year-old shy spinster and brilliant design engineer, had a particular taste in reading.

That first time with a mezzo-soprano: “Sorry madam?” the counter-girl had sweetly requested a repetition of the too sotto voce order, and, as Emily’s eyes had shied from the surprisingly firmly sculptured cleavage, she had smelt the sweetness of her breathtaking breath, and seen her heaven high cheekbones, as this girl had asked her to repeat her embarrassed mumble.

Here and now today, on her tenth consecutive Saturday visit, all of them timed to ensure being served by the same girl, Emma was only a little less diffident about her latest quest and request.

She should have thought of asking for it before. It was the long shot of long shots, but one never knew. ‘If you don’t ask you don’t get’, as they say.

“‘Bella Donna’s Deflowering’, by Penny Traitor, the 1957 soft cover original?”, Emily asked again, feeling the lobes of her ears burn with her embarrassment, to the degree that caused her to remove her glasses and rub their lenses vigorously with her handkerchief.

That action was always a cover for Emily’s shyer moments, in consequence of the many of which, the lenses of her glasses were always spotlessly gleaming.

As she seemed to constantly, the girl smiled with her lips, and her lovely eyes, her emerald eyes, glowed. Her soft coral lips parted. And her scrupulously white, perfectly arraigned teeth, told that sweet laughter was no labour for her. By contrast with Emily, she showed no sign of embarrassment whatsoever.

Emily replaced her bottle-bottom-thick lenses on her nose, making her cold light-blue eyes go owl, and looked at the face, pale as a lily, and either without any, or with makeup superbly disguised to look non-existent.

Exceptionally pretty, the sweet face was framed by her blonde hair: hair that was cut boyishly short, even to the degree of her having a side parting; but making her look all the more feminine for it.

As the girl smiled, her lower eyelids puckered to emphasise her eyes’ glow and the love that she comprised in and of herself.

Before Emily’s eyes lowered from the bookshop girl’s confident unwavering challengingly attractive gaze, she noticed again the single central dimple in the jaw-line of her delicate chin, and concluded that god must have held her head up with a thumb there, whilst she put the finishing touches to the face of this exceptional exemplar of the loveliest of her creations.

‘Jade Munroe’ was the name in black print on a white ground on the rectangular plastic badge pinned above her left breast, by the clasp through her woollen sweater.

She wore a white veeneck that her ample chest was making fulsomely handsomely fascinating. She had its long sleeves pulled up to just below the elbows, baring her slender arms. Emily gazed at the profuse soft golden down on the girl’s forearms, and noted the trivia that she had tucked her handkerchief up her right sleeve, giving her a ‘Popeye’ style muscle, misplaced immediately above the crook of her elbow.

As Jade stepped from behind the counter to the corner where the symbols and cymbals of the orchestrated porn clashed clarion clear: in seeming descant, over the creaking oak floorboards sounding dissonant below her five-foot-seven one-hundred-pounds without ounce of superfluity, her clit-twitch creating onomatopoeic clitter-clatter of four-inch stiletto heels, beat erotic time: ‘tip-tap floor-rap, tip-tap contact, tip-tap compact, tip-tap impact, tip-tap floor-rap, tip-tap contact, tip-tap compact, tip-tap impact’, as she wiggled her delight of light steps to the corner, to trace where the little boys blue came for scores with which to play slide trombone on their horns.

Jade’s tautly tensioned legs were long fit and sensuously seductive: not least for the ecstatically electrical silent shush swish shush of her clinging black miniskirt on black stockings’ darker tops, as she briskly whisked along, almost all but rubbing her nylon stockinged thighs together, for her steps forth were toe before heel before toe before heel ‘tip-tap floor-rap, tip-tap contact, tip-tap compact, tip-tap impact’. And from rear the seer was speared by sure shaft of arrow through heart shot, as her gazelle gait rocked and rolled her rebellious rear.

Jade’s walk was nature nurtured by deportment, and as important to her intimate potency as the wonderful wandering wobble bobble of her thirty-eight-D-cup bosom, diving and rising divinely: divided undecided, as to which bonny breast should absorb the inspiration of the spring from the recoil of her seductive steps, and so taking to bobbing and nodding, united like loving twin sisters, together, challenging the dazed onlooker to assess if her breasts were cupped in a bra, as they surely could not be, and still float and rebound so far.

The contemplation of the arousing rub of Jade’s naked nipples on the woollen sweater as she walked, and the scent centred slit sliding slickly slipperally within her anticipatedly attenuated tiny panties, would give a hard-on to a hell-bound hermit, such was her evident litheness, and the lure and lust for her physical love, Jade’s mere being created: ‘tip-tap floor-rap, tip-tap contact, tip-tap compact, tip-tap impact’.

Emily’s expectation of a find was not high. ‘Bella Donna’s Deflowering’, by Penny Traitor, the exceptionally rare 1957 soft cover original print, published in limited numbers by Phallus Press, was a collector’s holy grail. One had sold at a book auction for three-hundred dollars, and that had been five years back. Such a price marked its rarity.

But, for the moment, Emily had something completely priceless on her mind: the stunning seductiveness of the lovely Jade.

Impossible to follow suit with the conspicuously unconscious fact, that Jade’s body made her walk like that, the dumpy overweight short-sighted seed-gone-to-weed forty-year-old tousled-untidy-mousy-to-grey-haired Emily, severely short-sighted without her glasses, followed the biblical tract of Jade’s transfixingly fascinating tracks.

Was Jade relaxed, because she was assuming that, it being girl with girl, there was no concern about the wonder her wiggle wander yonder to ponder the pornography preponderant on the shelves in the nether corner of the shop, could stoke to provocation?

They passed the shop’s one kick-stool, and Jade turned and smiled with sunshading glory, before returning to it, to play soccer ball ‘dribble’ with it, showing her shapely legs’ lovely muscles, as she propelled it to the station she knew she needed it to be at.

“There was a whole stack of novels put temporarily on the top shelves earlier this week, by my colleague. I’ll have a riffle through for you madam, and we’ll see what we can come up with”, Jade’s lips pronounced, pronouncedly performing perfection, as they pouted the air with their silently shouted prey kiss me prayers.

That corner of the shelving reached, Jade smoothed down her miniskirt to keep its hem from risk of rising, before stepping on the stool.

But, as Emily watched open-mouthed, the younger woman reached higher aloft, and her hem disobeyed, and rose above her wickedly sinful black stocking tops, to flash the superlatively soft smooth completely unblemished complexion of the tops of her hugely strong thighs, and the bottoms of the cheeks of her rotund rock-firm bottom.

Then, as Jade reached yet higher still, her left leg’s curvaceous calf was turned to tantalisingly taut muscle, by her tiptoe rise to a height on the stool, higher than her mere high heels giving of leg-appeal, she also raised her right leg out of her shoe altogether, so she could reach to see the spines on the topmost shelf.

And her pretty fingers played piano along the lucky spines of the books high on the highest shelf. And, for counterbalance, her right leg was kicked into a curve where her toes flicked back as her calf touched her thigh. And the shape her leg formed knew no comparison with anything that could be anything but less beautiful than her right leg’s majestically magical agonisingly magnificent curves.

And Emily’s gasp as Jade flashed the gusset of her criminally crimson thong, when she reached her slender arm for her fingers to just grasp a volume, receding nearly beyond her touch, were masked by the loud ‘ping’ and echoing ‘dings’ of the shop’s doorbell, sounding, as if in surprise signal of first prize being scored, as Jade showed where first prize was stored, whilst also being bidden to obey the need to attend to a new customer that had arisen.

As Jade’s toes sought to return to the refuge of her high-heeled shoes, Emily watched the entrancing dancing flexes of the smooth muscles in her right calf.

As she rearranged her misbehaving skirt too, to Emily’s discerning eye, she thought she espied Jade blush, as if she had not realised the extent of her seductive exposure of whole legs, stocking tops, strained suspenders, bare thigh, bold bare bottom, and her tiny tautly tight thong-panties.

As Emily willing followed the wander of the willow-wand wonder of Jade’s wonderful figure back to the shop counter, Jade announced, apparently innocent of the duality of the implications of her siren statement: “I think I may have got something that will please you very much indeed, madam”.

At and from behind the counter, there was another ‘ping’ and echoing ‘ding’ of the doorbell as the other customer, mind changed and empty handed, left Emily and Jade alone once more.

At and behind the counter, Jade’s lovely little hands with their perfectly manicured curved-corner-square-ended long fingernails, held the book she had seized from the shelf, up at a thirty degree angle from the counter top, to display to Emily, the gaudily coloured illustration of a girl, that could have been Jade herself, undergoing sexual torture on its front cover.

“It’s slightly foxed I’m afraid. And, as we haven’t catalogued that corner yet madam: should we say: twenty dollars?” Jade’s inspiring lips enquired, kissing every lucky word.

From the internet, where she had seen that cover depicted, and read and re-read the contents of the novel itself: countless times, Emily knew she was looking at a first prize apprising her of first prize.

In microseconds she saw the 48 point heading over the illustration, trumpeting the book’s contents as the work of authoress ‘Penny Traitor’ and, below the illustration, in smaller print, scarlet red gothic and distorted to appear as if it were blood flowing, the title of this, the very first and therefore rarest of Ms Traitor’s oeuvre: ‘Bella Donna’s Deflowering’. And her heart jumped as its pumping raced. The erect logo of the Phallus Press in an oval on the bottom right-hand corner confirmed the McCoy of joy was real and ready to be reeled in, and for only twenty dollars!

This was a miracle discovery. To mere mortals it was crass trash, but to a selective elect few, it was El Dorado’s gold.

Emily prided herself that she was among the select elect of connoisseurs of one-handed literature. This was the Everest of sadomasochistic novels. This was a palpable hit. Her pulse raced as she fought not to show in her face, that she had scored a bulls-eye, and for only twenty dollars!

“I’ll take it”, Emily whisper-croaked, and then cleared her throat, acting indifference to the best of her limited ability, as she handed over her Amex to answer the ringing up of the antiquated till, as its drawer shot open at Jade’s button press request, and its bell’s ‘ting’ echoed still.

Was Jade more shy than even Emily?

A slide of a delectable forefinger, that should have been teasing a penis, over the embossed green rectangle, preceded: “I’ve always loved the name ‘Emily’”, and an enquiring look at Emily that said that she, Jade, had noticed how she, Emily, came into the shop every Saturday without fail, and always ensured that she, Jade, served her.

Jade knew she was spice. She knew she was sugar for lust. She knew she enticed. She knew where men and women wanted their fingers thrust. She knew she had longed-for lips twice twice: indeed, her lower pair enfolded her guiding light.

Jade knew too true too that she bewitched Emily. The leg display had been no accident. Jade loved to please with tease. She loved to be desired and to inspire want for her. Emily was obviously hooked.

To Jade this older woman was intriguing. Jade had no girlfriend at the moment. The notion of a little adventure with Emily had been a seed sown, when Jade had first registered Emily’s eyes compelled to ogle her legs: that is, from the very first time, ten weekends since, that Jade had stepped from behind the shop’s counter, and been made to blush deep scarlet by Emily’s evident desire.

Now Jade’s pretty fingers pulled lengths of transparent adhesive tape from the machine on the counter, leaving her fingerprints, even these erotic, on it, to aid her wrapping the bought book, skilfully neatly in plain brown paper.

And, as she pushed the parcelled book, and disguised prize, over the counter, her sweet face looked Emily eye-to-eye. And the absolute of absolute miracles for the reticent shy reclusive Emily was heard, unbelieved by her for seconds that seemed like hours as they flashed by, when she heard Jade say coaxingly brightly: “I’m free on Sundays Emily. Why don’t you ask me for a date?”

At two the following afternoon, the next day, and therefore a Sunday, Emily paced by the lions’ cage of the Fordbridge Zoological Gardens, her heart pulsing madly as she waited and prayed for Jade to turn up.

The jeans were a disappointment. Not the way they hugged Jade’s swinging rear, but for the fact that her legs, the two highways to the seat and heart of her fire, were hidden.

But the smile was genuine gold, and the promise of a kiss from lips so lovely and lively and divine, if she was truly lucky, sent rapturous shivers down Emily’s spine.

What could two girls so contrasting have in common? The one a frump past her ‘sell-by date’ in her teens, and now a middle-aged lonely loner; the other an angelic heavenly deeply beautiful vivacious walking talking giggling smiling laughing loving girl, sitting now sipping tea, with her pretty wonderful pretty legs in jeans: sitting her delicate whole, on the wholly holy hole of her irresistible deep down devilishly desirable florally-fragrant cunt?

Well: just as some girls love father figures, so this lovely loved older women. Shy too, Jade looked at Emily and saw the maturity and imagined accompanying accomplishments and bedroom confidence she initially looked for in her would-be lovers.

League and legion were Emily’s predecessors, but none was legendary. Jade was young, just twenty-three in fact, and needed not to worry or hurry about finding her dreamed of lifelong partner yet.

To the adorable Jade, all of Emily’s shortcomings were plusses. A splendid illustration of the mysteries of a young woman’s psyche, was that the more Jade found disappointment in the real, over her initially imagined Emily, the more she liked her, and the more that liking grew to love.

Jade’s foremind never acknowledged it, but there was much of the bridesmaid compared to the bride in her personality.

To be the really pretty one when they were out together, a role Jade could hardly help but fulfil, made her heart soften for Emily’s lost looks and youth. To be taken for a daughter, appealed to Jade’s secret desire for a mother she had, as an orphan, never known. And what more compact combination could there be than ‘mother’ and lover in the same person?

Although too, Jade told herself constantly that she sought competence and confidence in bed. Truth said, she loved to be fumbled and felt clumsily. And to be left frustrated at every turn, turned her on tremendously.

To be left in bed awake and tossing and turning and burning for a cum, whilst her sated lover snored contentedly, having left Jade as frustrated as if she had been frigid, was the truth of the state of Jade’s desires that she had not yet had the damascene awaking to realise.

True too, was that Jade wanted the humiliation of being taken by unattractive women. She wanted to be despoiled and soiled by clumsy tumblings that would leave her in a furious fire of unfulfilled desire, by a woman whose very fact of being her lover, to be brutal to the likes of Emily, degraded her.

Yet all this masqueraded as sweet charity on the surface. And so too it was. Jade was loving and wanting to please, and to give pleasure by being the treasure of women such as Emily. And she would never hurt them by admitting that they did not complete her physical needs.

The surface was real and so too the subterranean psychology. Jade was a brightly intelligent girl. She had long known the meaning of the word ‘masochist’, and was certain sure that she was not one of those. She therefore did not know that she was one of those, and that it made her fling her beauty, to cling out of duty, to those whose fruit she could plainly see, was weathered, withered, and sometimes even wizened on the vine.

“Hold your head right back my darling!”

The friendship grew from dream to reality, and almost made Emily forget her scheme. The meetings grew from weekly to nightly and all-day on Sundays. The two fizzed the email and text waves too: Emily from the hand-built sports car factory, at which she was the chief design engineer, and Jade, when she could spare the time, from the bookshop, which she in fact owned, as Emily had subsequently discovered.

Jade was skilled at taking the lead from the rear. She was giving Emily the confidence that the older woman had only ever had in fragmented amount, hitherto disaggregated if not disintegrated.

The meal at ‘Minx’s’ had been where it had truly begun.

Emily could not take her eyes of Jade in her cerise evening gown. The flash of the stocking-clad lovely’s lovely left leg as the angel approached the table, caused her to rise as if in applause, till Jade had approached her would-be chair. And for Emily to hold Jade’s seat till the gorgeous creation sat centrally, snuggling down on her fragrant cunt, was reflexed and natural.

Jade blushed with the honour performed her, and at the compliment it paid her.

The meal progressed, with the billion-dollar Jade, making the two-cent Emily feel a trillionaire, as she watched the younger girl’s mouth and longed for the kiss she had, even yet, not known.

Jade was happy to steer from the rear in all things; but was, naturally as she saw it, leaving it to Emily to make the approaches to kisses and bed.

Yet too, Jade had been thinking about that choice of approach and come to the conclusion that it needed a little urging on.

“When are you going to show me your place? I’m longing to see ‘Nelly Farm’ again. I used to play there when I was a little girl. The orphanage had a summer residence next door. It must have been demolished five years ago, just as I left for university”, Jade enquired and informed.

“I’m always free on Sunday”, she added with her dazzling green eyes cast down, as if there could be any doubt that her invitation to herself would not be refused by the woman she was seeking to put it into the mouth of.

Jade did not object to the wine Emily poured, to near overspill, in her, Jade’s, glass now. But its rosé was no match for her seductively succulent lips, as she sipped and made even the wine ‘mere’ by sheer comparison with the incomparable: the wonder of all wonders: of all wonders the most wonderful of wonderful: a girl.

“Hold your head right back my darling!”

The invitation made, Jade needed to be a little tipsy to be brave. She had been bedded before and, though she flawless, it had all but always been flawed. She had been both hurt and hurt by her first time, and still was hurt in her heart and nervous to part her legs; though as longing for the deed as they were long: and so very long, and so very longing indeed.

Her deflowering had been exceedingly painful. God had made her unbreachably tight. She had been taken without foreplay. She, unlubricated, the boy’s cock had ripped her asunder, and she had screamed with the pain as he took her nonetheless, carried away on lust’s crest, and animal with his rapine thrusts. She had bled for days and, in her innocence, thought the twenty-seconds it had taken for the boy to shoot his seed, had ruined her for sex forever, and that she was bound to bleed, not just with her miracle monthly, but clock round indeed.

By sweet contrast, her first experience with a girl in the showers at school, had been a revelation. She had been the sixty in the sixty-nine; but scored none out of ten for her inattention to anything other than the immeasurably unbearably beautiful sensations from the tongue circling her clit. And she had cum for the first and many immediately following times in her sweet young life, as she laughed and cried with joy and loss at one and the same time.

Ever after it had been disappointment. Jade did not know it, but she looked to be let down.

Her de facto rape had sown strange seed indeed: not from the spunk that had been shot hot on her naked thigh, as her shy boy spurted his load from his blood-coated cock, whilst feeling guilty for rocketing-up immensely erect immediately again, from enjoying her pain; but from the furious fire from her sundered and plundered innocence, and the excruciating agony of her jaggedly raggedly ripped, raging raggy raw raped bleeding heaven hole’s hymen.

In Emily’s car, as the sweetly tipsily drunken angel rested her high cheekbones on her shoulder, the scent of Jade’s hair flared lucky Emily’s nostrils, and the ‘go’ glow in the glorious eyes and the lips offered to the kiss longed for, turned to sweet smile of understanding and patient wait, as Emily resisted and refrained, only to gain Jade cuddling closer to her still, once more again.

“Hold your head right back my darling!”

As Emily began to drive, Jade at her side let the slit in the side of her long dress do its best to show off her exceptionally shapely left leg: a leg of such wonderful curvature, as to serve up such erotic dreams as could only be matched, if one had the chance to stare, at its equally sublime twin, equally bared.

The white lace garter on the stocking tops shaded-circle, clasping the thigh with its frills, thrilled. The interwoven crimson ribbon that was tied around to fix it to the thunderous strength of the hugely strong and yet sweetly beautiful upper limb, spilled its tails trail on the seat replete with Jade sitting centrally on her sensationally sedulously sensuous cunt.

As she noticed that Jade seemed to have dared to be bare, and that there was no evidence of panties consequently there: Emily’s clitoris danced at the glance from the glory of Jade’s innocent emerald eyes.

And Jade’s eyes, lighthouse beacons beckoning siren for a reckoning wreck on the flawlessly complexioned slopes, by their looking down that way, showed Emily the valley where the melonic hills, with their ruby-pink diamond hard peaks, would sunder her love boat: the soft rise and fall of Jade’s breasts, with their magnificent cleavage, aheave from her sweet zephyrs, and seemingly throbbing and bobbing with the beat of her gentle heart.

The hand offered for Emily to touch as she drove was touchingly pretty. Jade sighed to let Emily know she was longing for her fingers inside her, and let her dress’ skirt flirt for her, as it swept off her knees and let show both her wondrous thunderous thighs, so very massive, but still somehow of proportionate size, with the source of her sauce in the crucible mid their soft muscular and incredibly carressible insides.

“Hold your head right back my darling!”

The wheels of Emily’s auto scrunch-crunched on the gravel that covered the drive sweeping round before the old farmhouse in which she lived alone: the throne in which she had thrown the investment of her handsome pay for her working day, and all she owned.

As Emily made exit, Jade still sat in the car, rightly expecting and expectant of Emily opening and holding open the passenger door for her.

“Thank you”, Jade breathed and smiled with divine lips: nips hidden throbbing and clit secretly bobbing, as she displayed the amazing glory of surely the most beautiful legs ever made.

Car exited, Jade stood upright, and her dress swept its skirt around to hide the profound wonder of her lower limbs, as she found herself under polite escort from Emily, who would always hold the door for the girl she now adored, and let her sweep in sensationally rapturous slow motion penis-grind before her.

Of course it was good manners, but so too was it to follow Jade’s walk, pure joy: for her walk conspicuously clearly confirmed that she was no boy.

As they rose up the stairs with the rose without compare before under Emily’s stares, Jade’s apprehensiveness of physical love came to the fore once more, as she was reminded of the agonising pain of her deflowering: an event that had inhibited her ever since, bar the one once instance of love with her best friend at school in the shower, to number one of the 69 rules, after they had both got sweaty from playing squash.

As they entered Emily’s upstairs living room: “Wine?” Emily enquired, but Jade’s answer was only golden girl’s glittering giggles, and pretty hands on sweet lips, as Jade’s eyes swept the upstairs main room in which Emily dwelt, and saw the knickknacks that Emily had built.

The wall lights that flickered on, were sculpted like pairs of pear-shaped breasts. A toaster dormant on a corner table, ready for breakfasts to come, was an open cunt, inviting a slice of bread to be fed. The light switches were nipples, the sofa a huge pair of seductively-red mouth lips, with a long rude red tongue licking out.

And there, in the centre of the room, was the pièce-de-résistance, a huge hugely-erect ‘penis’, made from stainless steel, and either calved or cast such that its very throbbing veins were very real. Its prepuce was rolled back ready for purpose, and its head, complete with deep-crease septum, seemed to know Jade was there and long for her with an imagined throb.

It stood, one-and-a-half-inches diameter at its widest, forty-inches up, straight upright from the floor, and had two massive ‘testicles’, which were so wide-spaced in the modelled scrotum, it was as if they were being dragged divided in divine torture.

As Emily busied herself in her kitchenette, seeking the bottles of rosé she had been chilling in her refrigerator, Jade, a dance of deliciously embarrassed giggles galore, daintied around the creaking uneven, seemingly sagging floor surrounding the phallus, and her giggles reached a helpless screech, when she saw that the model penis had with pubic hair been made replete, by some bulrushes Emily had slanted in a holder placed for where there, fore at the floor.

As Emily came back into the room, she found Jade almost wetting herself with her giggles: giggles the lovely girl only curbed when she realised that she was making her titties dance divine spice for wicked vice, and that Emily could see, as the vibrations of her lovely merriment rocked her, that her chest was unencumbered by a brassiere, and her stupendous pendulous bosom was aswing, reverberating saucily seductive ‘come hither’ with her helpless, helplessly lovely, girly laughter.

“I’m so sorry” Jade tried to say, but she blushed rosé herself, as she fell hopeless prey, as her glistering giggles again held sway.

“No apology needed or sought darling. What do you think of my little toys?” Emily enquired, with the first look of true deep love for her, that Jade had yet seen.

“You made them yourself?!” Jade answer asked amazed, in a momentary pause in her giggles, while she wiped a lovely laughter tear precipiced in one sparkling emerald eye.

Emily’s first confident smile was Jade’s only answer. And so the young beauty danced her divine loveliness over, and kissed Emily’s cheek, as she repeated: “You’re a genius!!”, before the music that god has as her muzak in heaven all day, played here on worthless earth: a girl’s mirth: and Jade’s giggles once more made her unrestrained breasts beckoningly sway swing and dance at play.

“Are there any more?! Take me on a tour of your palatial residence madam!” Jade teased sweetly, as her eyes shone with gleaming beams of astoundingly seductive flashing dangerous green, and her mouth wreathed a smile so lovely that the words to describe it have, as yet, no dictionary seen.

“Emily. Sorry. Please. Must be all this silly giggling…” Jade began, as she demonstrated with a reprise: “May I use your loo?”

Jade was surprised now. That Emily should follow her to show her where the lavatory was to be found, was nothing profound. But Emily’s reluctance, her showing no wish to depart as Jade sought to leak her gold, soon signalled that to be present during this intimate act would, to the older woman, be seductive fact.

Jade was not giggling now. Before she sat gently on the lavatory seat, centrally sentry to make her lovely water, all Jade had to do was to sweep the skirt of her dress aside. And so Emily knew true that Jade had worn no panties the whole evening through.

Then Emily’s engineering showed ingenuity anew, as a light in the bowl threw its spot on the centrality of Jade’s full feminine animality, and a camera, projected on the wall, the site and sight of the pod opened to spill the sweet wine mulled by her body: the site and sight of her exciting cunt, readied for the exiting of her bacchanalian fountain stream.

Shocked at first, Jade was soon flattered as she realised that, even down to this about to be event, to Emily she mattered. And in the microphones too, two, all too attuned to pick up the hiss of her pissing, Jade could almost hear her heavenly heart’s heartbeat, and she blushed to know that there would be a recoding of this intimate show, with nought missing.

The swept around skirt of her dress covered Jade’s superb thighs, as she pissed, with her eyes sweetly lowered, because she knew she was lure, because the hiss of her pissing a parabolic golden rainbow of her ochre-tinctured treasure, which tinkled and troubled the waters in the toilet bowl at their leisure, was replayed on a projector on the wall, which showed it all, from the first enquiring squirt, to the long flow of the finest wine in the world, with the whirl as her piss curled hot in the cold waters below, troubled thus to bubble, till her finishing squirts as she flirted with her peeing to please her enraptured lover.

“That’s better”, Jade whispered shyly, as she rose, blushing deep red rose for knowing that she was creaming from having her pissing recorded and projected as an act of wall screening: only to see Emily in apparent distress.

“I’m sorry my love. Did you hope to drink my piss? Jade found herself surprised to be asking, somehow knowing it was how she had disappointed.

Then, to the silence in eloquent answer: “Later Emily. I promise for later”, she blush-whispered as she kissed Emily’s cheek, with her butterfly-wing-soft lips.

As Jade moved to leave the bathroom, Emily caught gentle hold of her oh so sweet fingers, and whispered: “Will you let me watch, as you go down naked on ‘Johnny’ for me?”

“Johnny?” Jade queried, her lovely eyes shining her natural loving nature.

Emily made no answer, and that was the most voluble answer she could have made. Her eyes were lowered such as to indicate she knew she was asking too much and, as such, without need of speaking she told Jade exactly what she was seeking.

Jade blushed at the very thought of what she instantly realised was what Emily sought. And her renewed giggles verged, as she calculated if she could please, and that tempted her to tease.

“Oh! You mean that? It’s huge!” Jade began to giggle with love; yet, as she thought of it, she knew she was creaming her myrrh, and it came as no surprise to her, as her voice voiced with nervous meaning: “Okay”, as she hung her head to pose a poised posy bouquet, suffuse with a rush of the rosiest of roseate full flush dark red blush.

Emily knew that Jade wanted to undress alone, and so left her in the bathroom, and sat herself on the ‘mouth’ sofa with its long ‘tongue’ foam cushion, and bright rouge ‘lips’. But not before she had removed the ‘pubic hair’ bulrushes, and raised the lights, and set the recording cameras.

At first, Jade shyly put her head around the bathroom door, as if she need be ashamed or even, heaven forefend, as if her beautiful body might disappoint, or somehow offend.

Then, her eyes lowered, and she came out, and walked supreme dream to the phallus, confident in the overwhelming beauty of her supreme femininity after all it seemed: though even in this her shy eyes looked for reassuring approval.

But, on the onlooker’s side, as Jade, totally naked, came into the room, tears came to Emily’s eyes, for neither she nor the universe had ever seen such wonderful wonder as the beauty of Jade’s naked body.

Sufficient unto desire is the girl in the here and now. And here and now the seductive power of Jade’s sheer magical majesty was evidently elementary in the merest flick of her fingernail’s tip’s tip, let alone in her face, her arms, her breasts, her belly, her belly button, her back, her bottom, her thighs and her legs. And above and beyond all in her legs, and in her legs, and in the shapely curves of her legs, the careering curves of her lovely legs, and in the blonde nest between them, now seen openly scene, since hitherto only flashed in camera, on camera, been.

And Jade lowered her eyes as she wiggled to the upthrust to which she was about to entrust her envelope’s pink tunnel, blushing as pink as it, to know she was going to masturbate in front of the girl she loved, for the lust of the girl she loved, and for knowing that she was already wetted for the task for which she was whet and to which wedded.

And Emily wondered how Jade had prepared and where her pretty lucky pretty fingers might just before now have been.

But Jade was wet already from the display she had, without dismay, made of the spraying of the perfect parabola of her pussy-perfumed piss.

As she raised herself to the highest peak of tip of tip of her toes to seek to get the phallus inside her rosette sheath beneath, and thus parting her neatly cropped blonde bejewelled quim lips, Jade let Emily hold her dainty left hand.

And as the phallus slowly filled her, Jade’s eyes glowed with its boldness and its coldness and its unresponsive rigidity. And it biblically knew her, new in her. And she lowered her lovely legs, so that its unrelenting thrust, pushed her lips wide, as the rolled-back mock-foreskin went inside her salivating cunt. And she sighed with pleasure pain, recalling her virginity being ripped by rape again.

Hidden behind where Jade squatted, with the luckiest phallus in the world, filling her full to her brim within her myrrh musk lubricated gripping-inside pink sided quim: Emily worked a remote control she had grasped, and Jade gasped as she felt a needle-sharp something rise up slowly out of the septum, but knew not what it was, or what it was for.

To please her love and pleasure herself, which was one and the same, Jade prepared to gain a lift onto top tiptoe again, so as to shag herself on the stainless steel mock penis: Emily’s favourite baby, filling Jade to her womb so hugely ably.

But now Emily had come round to the front, and was working with the remote no longer remote, but shown so Jade now saw, to operate a guiding blade Jade felt stealthily rise inside her: her super-sensitivity telling her that something extremely sharp, and thus supremely able to pierce her soft innards, was rising from the crease crack septum in ‘Johnny’, and was already pressing prescient.

“What are you doing sweetheart?” Jade asked, curious at the feeling inside her, as if she were being injected by the longest of long hypodermic needles, yet still trusting the older woman only to be seeking to enhance the shared pleasure of watching a beautiful girl masturbate, and being the beautiful girl masturbating.

In her only answer, Emily pressed another button on the remote, and the room echoed with Jade’s scream of astounded absolute terror, as the floor she made wholly holy with the tips of her toes, suddenly showed itself as trapdoor: and the holy rose was impaled on the penis, as the one and only means for her to find redress from gravity’s haul of her, down into its loving arms’ caress: for the phallus on which she rode thrust up her rose pink road, ran down all the way to the ground floor fifteen feet below.

Jade knew now the look of cruelty incarnate, as she saw Emily’s eyes, huge owl-wise wise behind her glasses, focused only on causing her terror and pain, as she screamed and gasped with horror, and fought to keep the tentative tip grip of her big toes on the phallus’ mock testicles.

“Hold your head right back my darling, if you don’t want it to go through your brain!”, Emily advised.

Jade’s eyes flooded with tears as she begged understanding of what Emily was meaning: and then she cried “Oh god no!” as it dawned in her mind and it was as clear as a picture she had recently seen, obscene, how it was to go; where she was to go; and what she was to know, and how it would soon have been.

“Oh god. What have I done to deserve this? Why? Have pity on me please?” Jade begged in total tears. But Emily still pressed the next button and the ‘testicles’ fell to the floor below, leaving Jade to grip the phallus, already far up her, with the loving strength of her league long and very strong lovely legs; but which were not so gripping of the stainless steel as to stop its slow and certain seeming rise; which was in fact Jade’s slow and certain fall, in the guise of disguise.

And yet. And yet. With all her screaming, Jade was creaming. Her utterly beautiful beautiful legs fought to stop her slide ride, but inside she was slick with her myrrh, and her cunt was no use in stopping the phallus’ inexorable rise within the pink palace of her princess’ insides, as it followed the path that the preceding knife had mapped.

As her legs displayed to the maximality of their stunning wonder, the incredible power of their grip, and Jade waved her lovely arms to find even a straw to save her from her descent into hell, amid obscene screams as the phallus, lubricated profusely by her betraying musk, ripped slowly but surely through her guts, Jade somehow heard Emily again call: “Hold your head right back my darling”, as Emily now dashed down the stairs to witness the culmination of the wonderful Jade’s arrival at her lowly terminal station destination.

“Hold your head right back my darling! Don’t let it go through your brain!” Emily now called from below again, either for love of the show, or for the girl on the slide with the penis ripping through her insides completely inside.

Jade only knew the agonising pain as the knife guided her skewer’s trip. And she had realised the only way to survive, was to hold her head back and pray would happen what now happened as the knife arrived and she roared with raw agony’s agony’s agony’s agony, as the tip of the phallus rushed out of her mouth, and Jade knew she was impaled from her north to her south, and she knew she was skewered right through her beautiful body in the maximum of fallopian fucks.

And Emily clicked a button on the remote, and the knife, its duty done, retracted within the penis’ septum again, and left Jade to slide down the pole that had ripped right through her from hole to hole.

And the phallus rose above where Jade’s tongue performed long fellatio on the mix of blood and myrrh that had lubricated her enduring of the ultimate rape, from which there was no escape, as her escapade made her slide, with the head of the thrusting penis obscenely seen, thrusting out of her innocent trusting mouth right through her insides clean.

Jade’s pitiful cries gurgled bloody as she continued to slide impaled on the obscene pole up through the holiest of her three holy holes, till it thrust out of her mouth so she must fellate, without pleasure at the unromantic penis’ unrelenting measure, with a mix of shocked pain and terrible fear that surely her death was near. But also of gain, for the pole poured with her pussy juice, and her pretty hands could now gently grip, the phallus she was caressing like a lover, as it through her still slowly and certain-surely ripped.

Landing on her tiptoes, her legs displayed splayed by the force of the rod up her still salivating cunt, Jade’s lovely green eyes looked up at the heaven from which she undoubtedly came, and knew she was sent for her myrrh, and her frankincense, and the dark gold of her pubic hair, as her tongue licked the blood off the pole running up her hole and out of her mouth in the fulfilment of the fullest of foul fucks north through her mouth to the cunt in her south.

After the slow scream and silent glide of the descent, Jade stood, her parted legs either side the fallen testicle balls: her long lithe languorous luscious delectable delightfully deliciously decidedly femininely formed delicately muscular legs, forced on the tip top of the big toes cruelly square on the ground in the lost fight to hold herself higher: legs the slope of an unequivocally unparalleled provocatively erotic equilateral triangle.

Her glistening gold down decorated delicate forearms aiding her pretty hands caressing of the spike on which she was impaled, as if it were the tenderest of tender lovers. The erogenous roundness of her simply stunning firm bare buttocks, with their sides dimpled deep concave by her seductive stance. Her breasts adance with her gurgling breathing. Her nipples throbbing with the evident evidence of her conspicuous arousal also causing her tits’ slow bobbing. Her head bent back at right angles, her glowing green eyes open wide and wider, and blinking seemingly unseeing with shock as they stared, if they would or could but see, at the roof of the room above the room she was now in. Her ever-shining ever smiling eyes showing, not only that she was miraculously still alive, but that her mind was her body, and her body her mind, and both blind to all but the intimacy of the interminable spasms from her eternally infinite eternity of orgasm’s orgasm’s orgasms, as, even yet, she danced her dainty feet, to shag herself on the penis pole completely replete.

Jade flexed her lovely legs, flashing her fine feminine muscles in calf and thigh, as she sought thereby, to lift herself off the horrible pole, an impossible goal. Or was that indeed her quest? She was in continuous rapturous orgasm nonetheless.

Her body now gleamed with sparkling diamonds reflecting and refracting blue-white lightening-bright light, as her every gorgeous pore, poured her pure sweet sweat, and it trickled down her god-given curves, till she was sheened and shone with a halo glow, from her blonde head to her tiptop-tiptoed-big toes.

And yet even her sweat could not resist her legs yet. And two tributaries of her divine saline, paid tribute to her legs divine, as if cried tears, as they trickled over the exceptional curves and swerves of her thighs and calves, in dutiful full worship of their overwhelming beauty.

And Jade worked herself on the pole, gurgling her joy, as her tongue fellated the lover that fully filled filleted and fulfilled her. And her mind screamed that she knew she was enduring enjoying and enjoying enduring the ultimate orgasm, but that she did not know if she was in antepenultimate ultimate, penultimate ultimate, or the ultimate ultimate orgasm; or of where when what and which orgasm she would surely die.

And yet still and more Jade shagged herself pinioned on the pole, working her glorious legs to shag on the peg up her holy hole, knowing heaven before heaven, was here on earth, as she orgasmed and orgasmed for all her ebbing life was worth.

Smiling shyly, Emily looked at the wonder of Jade in her torture, and at what she, Emily, held in her hands. The picture on it was identical. Save that one was live and the other was over-florid art: the picture on the book and the girl gurgling blood before her were identical.

Emily admired the cover of the copy of ‘Bella Donna’s Deflowering’, by Penny Traitor, the exceptionally rare 1957 soft cover original edition published in limited numbers by Phallus Press. The collector’s long longed-for find.

Both in the picture and here and now, they were impaled on a spike that ran up through their cunts and came out of their mouths.

But one had a marginal difference.

By the pin driven through the dancing nipple of her left breast: the nipple of the live girl: the living organism slowly dying from the exceptionally extremely excruciating agony of her ever mounting orgasms, was appended a name on a rectangular plastic badge in black letters on a white ground: an exact replica of the badge she wore in her bookshop, save for a few lines of addition: the badge now reading simply: ‘Jade Munroe – the absolute personification of beauty -1983 to 2006’…

05-22-2007, 05:48 PM
Wow another Wonderful Story.....

thanks Eve

05-23-2007, 12:44 AM
Great stuff...thanks

05-23-2007, 01:28 PM
Thanks Eve ---these are just super stories

05-24-2007, 04:41 AM
Thanx for sharing. nice story Im sure the members will enjoy this