Lowering myself in, I tried pulling Cancer in too. But she insisted on staying out and positioned herself behind me on the rim of the tub. She began to massage my shoulders and it felt like the hot water and her touch were seeping into my bones, soothing me. I could feel the brush of her satin sleeves and the rose petals clinging to my thighs.
I turned to face Cancer. Her parted legs were propped up on either side of the tub and she was leaning against the wall behind her—exposing the cleft moon between her thighs. I followed the blue webbing of her veins with my mouth, kissing the tenderness of her inner thighs and their jasmine musk. “You smell,” I sighed, finally arriving, “like home.”
Leo
I imagine she smelled of nutmeg and cloves and that her skin felt warm, like peaches in the sun. But the truth is, I never got that close. Leo lived next door—in the house with the deck decorated with pots of marigolds. And during the summer that’s where she stretched out lazily in her lounging chair, watching me watch her from my second-story window.
I remember her working slick coconut oil into her calves and thighs as carefully as if she were polishing precious metal. And then, her long legs glistening in delicious contrast to her scanty orange bikini, her hands crept upward. Smeared oil along the length of her arms and over the curve of her hips—so slowly I squirmed impatiently. Was she toying with me? Would she hold back this time? I pinched my nipples to feel the soothing bite of nails.
The bikini top clasp rested between her two suns and just when I thought I’d burst, she undid it—showing me both her perfect generosity and her brutality, her nipples sharp like claws. I’d never spoken to her, but I adored her and ached to have her rake over me, over my cunt. I jammed a hand down my pants and rocked on my finger.
Leo flicked her long blonde hair and took a sip of her cocktail, an umbrella on the rim spearing a pineapple wedge. Spearing a cherry. Then she looked up at my window and,
with even more excruciating slowness, she undid the bikini bottom ties resting over her hips. I saw the amber triangle between her luscious thighs and I began to sweat, to pant.
Her toes curling and extending, Leo lightly stroked her secret mane. Then she slipped a finger into her mouth and licked it with flashes of her pink tongue until it was perfectly wet. Yes, everything was wet; cream had gathered between my legs, too. Leo slid the juicy finger to her cleft and made precise circles. Her lips were parted and her eyes were half closed into pleasure slits—such the perfect lust look I wondered if she’d practiced in the mirror. But then her expression and even all her movements turned suddenly raw. And separately—together—we quivered against our hands, moaned like animals with deep throaty sounds floating through the open window.
Virgo
“According to the book,” Virgo said, taking a sip of tea. “There isn’t one correct way of performing cunnilingus. Correct is simply what the recipient prefers. Have
you
noted much variation in
your
partners’ predilections?”
Giving head was one of my favorite topics and I strained to keep my voice as clinical as Virgo’s. If I ever hoped to get down her pants, I couldn’t blow it with dirty cunt talk. She wasn’t that kind—not yet anyway. I suspected, however, that if I could just spread her legs, her repression would crumble to an uninhibited, hungry hole. “There’s a great deal of deviation,” I finally answered. “Much depends on the vulva’s shape.”
“Do you mean the size of the labia?” Virgo asked. “I read that women with large inner labia sometimes like having them sucked, yet women with small or absent inner labia are unable to experience this.”
“The size of the labia is important but so is the size of the clitoris,” I replied, marvelling again at the perversity of Virgo’s sexuality. Although she’d never been with a woman, she had thorough book knowledge of lesbianism. She worked at the public library and apparently spent every free moment combing just a few special shelves.
“When a woman has a clitoris that juts out,” I continued, “her partner can suck on it as if it is a small penis, but when a woman has a hidden or small clitoris, her partner is only able to lap at it.” I tried to imagine the form of Virgo’s clit and I felt mine pulse. We’d been having these chats every Saturday for months and they still always got me wet.
“Is there anything that all women enjoy?” Virgo asked, just as the waitress arrived with our scones and cream. “Don’t you think, for example, that virtually all women prefer when the clitoris is not sought out immediately?” Virgo took a tiny bite and looked at me with clear eyes.
“True, it’s best to begin by…slowly licking the area where vulva…and inner thigh meet….” I crossed and recrossed my legs but the rest of the thought stayed jammed in my throat.
Slipping the tongue between inner and outer labia. Gently retracting the hood. Sucking the clitoris.
Virgo smiled elusively.
“Would you excuse me for a moment?” I said. Then in the bathroom I made it fast and dirty and solo. Leaning against the wall with my hand rammed down my pants, I imagined Virgo using—just for once—the nonscientific terms.
Libra
We’d been dating for just a few weeks, but we were already packing for our first romantic weekend getaway. “Which toy should I bring?” Libra asked, her voice clear sugar coming
through the line. “What’ve you got?” I answered, stuffing a swimsuit into my suitcase.
“Well, I have seven…. The first one’s a finger vibe that fits perfectly—nice and snug—over the tip of my pointer. You’d love it,” Libra assured me. “It feels delicious on the clit, so precise.” I imagined her making tiny humming circles over my nub and assured her that I was sold—that she should definitely pack the finger vibe up.
“Wait,” Libra said. “Make an informed decision; hear about
all
the toys before choosing.” I cradled the phone against my shoulder, getting ready for Libra to talk my ear off. “I also have a dildo with a hollow base,” she continued. “It’s bright purple and intensely ribbed. The problem is, it’s massive so it’s only really good if you want to be ripped open.”
“I could handle that,” I said, setting Libra giggling. “Do you have a bullet vibe to stick inside the base?”
“Of course,” she answered. “And when turned on, it purrs like a pussy and even makes some women ejaculate. It’s fantastic, but on the other hand so is my elegant glass wand. Glass, you know, is rock hard and frictionless. You can fuck and be fucked with it all night long.” I pictured Libra ramming such elegance up my cunt and then cleaning off the juice with the bow of her mouth. I tried to interrupt and insist that she bring the glass wand, but Libra barrelled on.
“I also have a double dildo,” she said, bringing my packing to a distracted finish, suitcase left gaping. “Can you imagine us being filled at the same time?” Imagining just that, my cunt creamed and I couldn’t take any more. “You know,” I said, my voice cracking. “We don’t need a toy. Your fingers would be just fine.”
There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. “All right,” Libra finally answered. “But what hole would you like them in first?”
Scorpio
Scorpio’s cock was too long, too thick, too red. Too much to hide in the folds of a skirt without magic. But no, I didn’t notice the bulge when she led me through the beaded curtain to her chamber flickering with candles. Nor when she took my hand and traced each line with a bold crimson nail.
“This curve in your heart-line,” she said, pinning me with her penetrating gaze, “indicates a tendency toward lust. Is that true?” Scorpio smirked like she knew the answer and placed her hand on my thigh. “Is your pussy often wet?” she continued. “Is it wet now?”
I blushed and mumbled incomprehensibly, but Scorpio’s creeping hand
was
making me moist. “You’re not communicating,” she said. “Your throat chakra must be blocked. I’ll have to open it.”
Scorpio stood and released her skirt, revealing the glory of her cock. “Now,” she said. “Strip.”
I stared with my mouth gaping. Her beauty that stark, that sharp. Yes, Scorpio was so lean it seemed she didn’t have enough skin and that her bones might tear through. Yet somehow she had juicy breasts the size of plums. I slipped off my clothes, hands shaking.
“Kneel,” Scorpio ordered. Then when I got into place she walked around me three times. Her footsteps falling hard and her circles strangely binding me without rope until my arms were pinned behind my back and she stood facing me. Her cock filling my vision. “I know you want your mouth fucked,” Scorpio said. “So beg for it.”
I whimpered, cowed by her ability to know what I craved, and she cracked a slap on my face, making my ears ring. “Please,” I bellowed. “Please.”
Scorpio stroked her cock and then jammed the head in my mouth. It was so big it strained the circle of my lips and I feared I couldn’t take any more, that if she rammed deeper I’d choke. “You can,” she said. “You’ve no choice.”
Scorpio rolled her hips and the shaft rubbed against the back of my throat. My eyes watered, my mouth watered, but she fucked harder. Bucked her hips until my throat numbed and then cracked open. She yanked my hair, thrusting one final time, and I swear I felt jizm spray hot and spread through me.
Scorpio pulled out. “Come back again and I’ll open your swadisthana chakra, located here,” she said, running a crimson nail over my cunt.
Sagittarius
“You’re Moon Double Cock,” Sagittarius declared, yanking off my T-shirt. “And this is your coronation ceremony.”
Never having heard of a Mayan ruler so named, I raised a dubious eyebrow. But Sagittarius plowed on. “Below,” she continued, “are one hundred thousand people here for the event and they’re transfixed—watching me ritualistically disrobe you.”
I looked over the edge of the ancient pyramid and saw nothing and no one—just the outline of lush rainforest stretching on forever. “How can they see us?” I asked. “The sun set an hour ago.”
“No, the sun’s at its zenith—just as this city, Tikal, is at
its
zenith.” Sagittarius regarded me with fiery eyes and swept the entire park with a wide gesture. Then she knelt, kissed my feet, and stroked my legs, and I, helplessly, softened into her fantasy.
“And who,” I asked, “are you supposed to be?”
“Oh, I’m the priestess leading the final stage of the ceremony.”
“Final stage?”
“Yes, the bloodletting to ensure the prosperity of your reign.”
“Hmm, I know some people like that, but hon, you hate blood.”
Sagittarius grinned and cupped my pussy. “This is the good kind,” she said. “The pop your cherry variety.”
Of all the things Sagittarius had ever asked me to imagine, being a virgin struck me as the most ridiculous and I snickered until she jammed my mirth with her finger—shoved fast into my hole. “The spectators and the young queen gasp,” Sagittarius said, smiling at my surprise and slipping in a second finger, then a third. “The priestess feels blood trickle down her wrist,” Sagittarius continued. “And another wetness even more sacred.”
Planting my feet into the cold stone, I braced myself to ride each thrust and I looked down over the pyramid’s edge. My clit swollen into a fat bead, I could now see Sagittarius’ vision—the one hundred thousand people watching and sliding inspired fingers into their robes, into those of their neighbors.
Sagittarius pressed her head to my cunt and flicked her tongue like a snake. “Come for the good of the people,” she said between licks. “Listen to them fucking. They want your divine ass and they’re screwing each other dreaming of it.”
“Yes,” I panted. “The spectators are a web of mouths and crotches—everyone both sucking and getting sucked. They’re heaving, writhing, shaking and—now—they’re coming together with the seismic force of an earthquake.”
I jerked against Sagittarius’ mouth, my moan ricocheting out into that surprisingly twenty-first-century night.
“Queen Moon Double Cock,” she said, as soon as I’d caught my breath. “I think park rangers are coming….”
Capricorn
Still slicked with sweat and slightly panting, I was relieved to have finally reached the top. All the way up the mountain I’d had my eyes fixed on nothing but Capricorn’s tight ass and now I had plans that didn’t include the picnic she was unpacking. I heaved off my knapsack and rummaged through it.
“Can you believe the view?” Capricorn asked. “Isn’t it incredible?” Without looking around, I nodded yes and spread the blanket.
“Come here, hon,” I wheedled, slipping the sandwiches from her hands. “You didn’t want to stop mid-mountain, but we’re here now….” I pulled her down and kissed her like kissing was everything. And I caressed her from back to buttocks to thighs, her muscles rippling under my touch. We’d been together for two years now, but Capricorn still always needed it soft and slow to get wet.
Our eyes locked and I fell into the rich, brown earth of hers. “I want you buried in me,” I whispered, setting her hands on a trail to my cunt. “And I want to be buried in you,” I continued, undoing her belt.
Capricorn stroked the fur between my legs and then squeezed and massaged the lips. She had strong, capable fingers and everything she did with them was perfectly precise, perfectly designed to send tremors through my slit. I mirrored her movements—stroking with the same softness and then slipping between her folds. We lingered over each other’s clits, drawing small moist circles, and finally we thrust simultaneously into each other’s holes. Moaning moans that sounded like sighs.
Yes, I’d been waiting so long for her to ram my cunt that now my bones were almost melting with relief and I could finally open my eyes to see. To see the clouds soft against the mountains in the distance. To see the trail far below us twisting and curving—sometimes steep and rough, sometimes lush with velvety green. Yes, Capricorn was right. We were at a gorgeous dizzying height and we were getting close to the edge. Her thumb pressed into my clit and mine pressed into hers, we were just a few strokes from coming.