Chapter 4 - Kyani

Author's note: This chapter was quite a while in the writing, not for want of inspiration or interest, but simply because work and other commitments demanded so much of my time lately. Nevertheless, I think it's my favourite chapter so far, and I like to think I've improved a little as an author in the writing of it.


CHAPTER IV
'KYANI'


Over the next week or so Clytemnestra and I have come to know many of the ordinary's bar staff tolerably well. There's Niah, of course, the girl I'd 'saved' with my 'sorcery' that first night, and Atron – who'd woken me up the next morning with her noisy climax (that proved to be a feature of living in this place). Others too like Morra, who never wears knickers, which means she constantly flashes her exposed sex under that tiny skirt the barmaids wear, to the benefit of her tips, I gather, and to the detriment of Clytemnestra and I who often have to come to her aid.

	Aniviv is a pretty, well-spoken girl who can read and write and wants to be a playwrite, but has never found her break, and there's Ti who gives herself airs because she (claims she) is the Prince of the city's bastard. Dalla came to me after her shift one night and asked me to teach her sorcery, which I obviously had to decline since I barely know a thing myself and daren't reveal that.

	And Kyani... I wonder in to the bathroom with the towel, sponge and the cake of pink, cherry-scented soap I'd bought yesterday. I'm very much looking forward to a long soak.

	It's a big bathroom with four handsome clawed baths in it and a copper water heater large enough to fill all of them. There are some wicker chairs here and there, presumably so one can wait for hot water or just as a place to drape clothes. Kyani is already there, about light the fire under the water heater.

“Oh, uh... Hi,” she mutters, a little wary. We've not really spoken before and some of the staff seem a bit afraid of me, “Do you want... want me to put some more water on?”

	Kyani, like me, has a particularly broad, dense treasure trail and extraordinarily hirsute armpits, both traits which are considered highly attractive here in this odd, charming world.

“That won't be necessary,” I say in as nice a voice as I can manage. Trying not to appear threatening. I turn on one of the four taps letting cold water flood into a bath, “I can heat it much quicker.”

“Can... Oh, wow,” She looks gratifyingly impressed. I shut off the tap, dip my hand into the water and tell it it's nice and hot. Steam starts to issue from the surface, and the water is warm enough to turn my skin pink.

“Would you like me to warm yours?” I offer, then pause as I can almost hear Clytemnestra's voice in my head, telling me to go for broke, “Unless, you'd rather share mine, that is?”

	I smile and raise an eyebrow in what I hope is an inviting manner. I don't doubt she knows exactly what I'm suggesting. After a moment, she smiles excitedly and I quickly step forward and kiss her right on the lips.

	After a instant's passion, and a little grope of her nice pert bottom I let her go again and quickly strip my top off, then my skirt and pants. As I'm straightening up again Kyani has shed her tiny skirt and I get a glimpse of a quantity of thick black hair escaping the edges of her white knickers, not to mention a startlingly thick treasure trail all the way from her navel. In a trice she's as naked as I am and I openly stare at her thick, dense bush. Her crotch is even hairier than mine, which which has become noticeably so since arriving in this world. 

	Kyani herself is a lovely woman, very very thin with bouncy little breasts and light brown skin and such a narrow waist, but oh, her hair. She has a great diamond-shaped patch of long, thick hair all the way from her navel to the crux of her legs. Kyani sees me staring and shyly covers herself with her hands.

“Oh! No, no, no. That's a sight to behold!” I exclaim joyfully, moving her hands away. As I do I can see equally impressive patches under each arm.

	I cannot help but raise her arm up and give one armpit a long lick. That makes her laugh loudly and try to bat me away with the other hand, so I seize that, raise it and lick her under there.

	So much hair. Her armpits are great, dense, thatches of black hair, glistening, beaded with perspiration. I lick again and again at her coarse hair, I taste her salt sweat and breathe her womanly musk.

“I've got to taste you,” I pant excitedly, pulling on her hand until she follows me to one of the chairs. I throw my towel over the coarse wicker and settle Kyani down.

“What about the bath?” she giggles.

“It'll keep. Now scoot forward, that's right, good girl.”

	I kneel in front of her, between her long, slim legs as she perches that lovely patch of fur right on the edge of the chair, an inch from my nose. Her scent is strong and slightly spicy, exotic and tempting. I suppose I should draw things out, but I can't. Even this close I can scarcely make out her slit through all that hair. I give a deep, hard lick, tasting salt sweat and the beginnings of her arousal. I feel the thick hair against my tongue, my lips, my cheeks, my nose.

	My eyes are closed, all of my other senses are focused on the wonderful hairy womanhood before my lips. The tip of my tongue slides across her soft, slick folds and I taste her. My nose is pressed deep into her hot sex and I smell her, her thighs grip my head, her thick hair against my face and I feel her. My world shrinks until it is her alone, and the sensations she gives me.

	My fingers part the dense hair, uncovering her soft, wet folds and her hands wrap around the back of my head, pulling me to her. I lick small, gentle circles about her most sensitive spot, making her gasp quietly and tangle her fingers in my hair.

	Her sex is hot and wet and delicious. Her lips slide under mine, my mouth all over her cunt, my fingers deep in her wiry hair, spreading her flower for my hungry mouth as she starts to tremble. I lovingly lick my tongue up and down, drinking down her nectar. My mouth moves up to her clitty, slowly circling it, teasing the hood, licking it, kissing it.

	Now I slide my tongue over it, at last gently, oh-so-gently, licking her fully exposed bud. Kyani moans in wanton pleasure. Her hips are in constant motion now, her spine undulating sinuously as she fucks herself on my lips, rubbing all that hair over my face. My tongue plunges deep into her sex and she rubs her clit against my lip. Her hands hold me tight to her rubbing, grinding cunt, her mass of hair everywhere about me, tickling my cheeks and nose.

“Deeper!” she orders, half insensible, “Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh yes!”

	I force one finger between my face and her needy cunt, rubbing at the top of her slit and try to force my tongue deeper still. She's fucking herself against my face so hard and fast that it's almost painful. That hairy snatch is working for itself now, I doubt I even need do anything but enjoy it. I do, I love the taste of her love, the smell of her hairy, wet sex, the feel of that mass of thick hair against my face, in my mouth.

“Look at me!” she orders, “Look at meee!”

	I open my eyes and stare up at her, her wild brown eyes meet mine and she comes, staring down at me, my face more than half buried in her huge bush. Her hands clamp me even more powerfully to her shuddering sex, her thighs squeeze me, but her eyes never leave mine until, spent, she flops back into the chair, finally freeing me from her grip.

	I can but sit there, almost as dazed as she, smiling happily with wet lips and a mouth full of hair.

“Mmm, thank you.” she sighs, finally.

“You are most, most welcome,” I rise, and slide up her naked body to kiss her lips, to let her taste her dew on mine, “Most welcome indeed. I'll be very unhappy,” another swift kiss, “If you don't let me eat your cunny again.”

Kyani laughs softly, “Well, I wouldn't want to anger a sorceress.”

“Nor should you. You come to me whenever you need an eager tongue. Promise? Good, now come on before our bath gets cold again.”

	We jump up and, holding hands, step into the warm water. It's cooled slightly while I was lost in Kyani's jungle, but feels invigorating against my skin as we settle splashily down and recline, me leaning back against Kyani's slim body. Her hands immediately find my little breasts, groping lewdly for a long moment as I relax deeper into the water, and into her. I slip neck-deep beneath the water and I lay my head back on her shoulder.

	Kyani feels my body for the simple joy of it and I am content to let her, staring at the cracked plaster ceiling, feeling her hands roam over my body, or stroke my hair. Presently she sits me up straight and starts to wash me with my sea sponge and my cherry scented soap, rubbing the rough sponge hard against my body until my skin turns pink, and then washing my long, long hair. It's a novel and very enjoyable sensation, to be washed by another. Especially by this lithe, slippery, soapy, wet woman with a kind, happy face and huge bush.

	I wonder how it would feel to be washed by Clytemnestra, or better yet, to wash her magnificent body. Ah, but where would I find a bath big enough...

	It's Kyani's turn and I have her stand up. Water cascades from her brown skin, running freely over her slim body and shedding in torrents from the long black hair covering her sex. I cannot resist beginning there, rubbing the pink soap all over that huge patch of hair until it is a mess of fluffy white suds which I massage lovingly with my fingers. I rub farther afield, up the hairy cleft between her firm cheeks and across her arse and back again until I'm sure she knows this is more about my fun than her cleanliness.

	Eventually I have to take up the sponge and , rubbing the soap on it, I scrub her all over until her skin is streaked with white residue and she can sit down to wash it all off while I wash her hair.

	When we're done washing one another, and playing with one another, and then washing one another again, just for the fun of it, and the water is getting cool we reluctantly admit that we cannot stay in the bath all day. I let her get out first, just so I can watch the water cascade from her pubic hair again, and then follow her.

	Kyani scrubs herself with a towel, but I just tell the water on my body that it's steam. All of a sudden she screams in panic as a cloud of vapour explodes from my body, and I can't help but laugh at her alarm, wafting away the thick clouds which are even now condensing on the floor, lacking enough heat to stay steam.

“Don't worry, sorry! I should have warned you.”

	She stammers some justifications and says she was merely surprised. I wrap my towel around me and and gather up my clothes.

“Those are mine,” Kyani interjects as I pick up her white knickers and add them to my own bundle of clothes.

“I know,” I smile sweetly.

“Oh... Well, um?”

	I bring her knickers to my face and inhale her scent.

“I didn't realise that was your thing,” she says, folding my hand around her knickers, “Enjoy.”

	I'm feeling very good indeed back in our room, not to mention particularly horny. Clytemnestra isn't back from her exploration of the city yet, but when she does arrive she'd better be ready for action! My escapades with Kyani have built quite a fire between my legs.

	I throw off my towel and start brushing my hair in front of the mirror, enjoying my improved body very much. I wonder if it's vain to be attracted to one's own body if that body is not the one one's accustomed to wearing? There's a question for the philosophers.

	My skin is smooth and flawless, my tummy is flat and my waist is so very narrow. I can almost encircle it with my hands! My nipples are proud and pointy on my teeny breasts. So cute! So tiny!

	If I hadn't just eaten Kyani I'd have said my armpits and my crotch are supremely hairy too. Just for the hell of it I drag my hairbrush across my dark delta of pubic hair, enjoying the rough sensation across my most sensitive place.

	I'm wet already. I get so very wet when I'm aroused these days, and order of magnitude more than I ever used to. Kyani's hairy snatch was running over with nectar, so was Isis'. Clytemnestra's cunny is almost like a tap. I think it's just the way this world is, the women here are juicy beyond the dreams of lust. Lucky old me!

	I squat down in front of the mirror, spreading my knees as far apart as they will go. My aroused quim is on full display in the glass, spread and dripping wet surrounded by black hair. I run my fingers across it just once and then cup my hand with only a moment's concentration I let a little pee dribble out into my cupped palm. It feels hot and wet and thrilling and I rub it into my sex. Grinding my pleasure centre against the heel of my hand.

	I do it again, cupping my hand beneath my sex and squirting a more powerful jet of piss into my hand. A little splashes onto the floor and I almost can't stop the flow before my hand overflows. I rub it quickly into my wet pubic hair before it can drain away through my fingers and when my hand is still wet with piss and juice I rub it all across my face, licking my palm and breathing deep of the smell.

	It's hard not to just let myself pee now, all over the floor, but I don't want to waste it. I seize one of the copper cups next to the pitcher on the chest of draws and hold it bellow my drippy cunt. My piss comes in a torrent now, hissing and gurgling into the cup, splashing almost over the sides and I fill the small vessel almost immediately having a great deal of trouble stopping now.

	I raise the cup before me, the hot, slightly frothy pee sloshing in my trembling hand. The strong, erotic smell exciting me. My reflection watches in pure lust as I bring the cup to my lips and drink. I never break eye contact with myself as I drain the cup of it's nectar. My cunt is aflame, the need to piss, barely held in check, the nasty, dirty, thrilling feeling of watching myself drink my own pee!

	I fill the cup again and drink, watching my reflection, watching my hand rub at my pleasure button, watching my throat move, swallowing. When there's but a mouthful remaining in the cup I tilt my head back and tip it over my face, eyes closed, mouth open. It runs across my already wet face. Down my cheeks, into my hair.

	My reflection is sordid and nasty and sexy. Squatting before me legs wide open, lewdly rubbing at her cunt, piss glistening on her face, eyes wild with lust. I want to piss all over her. I take the long mirror from the wall and lay it down, squatting over it. I massage my clitty, watching my reflection do the same beneath me, gazing at my own spread sex. I release my bladder and a powerful stream of piss jets into my reflection's face, wobbling as I masturbate and splashing everywhere from the hard glass surface.

	I piss all over the mirror until a shallow, froth-islanded film of pee covers the whole surface, pooled within the wooden frame, rippling gently as the last drips fall from my cunt. I lay my hand palm down in the precious liquid and then rub the wetness all over my face, then my breasts and my already sopping wet crotch. I fall to all fours, straddling the mirror and looking into my yellow-tinted reflection's eyes through the pool of pee. I lean down and lick her, as she does me, licking the pissy glass and masturbating wildly.

	I lick and lick, kissing my reflection, drinking the piss and rubbing my chest into the wet glass, my arse still high in the air, my hand abusing my burning clitty. Finally, I come, shuddering and collapse into the wet mirror, covering myself in piss. I lie here for a long time, sighing contentedly and lapping gently at the moist surface. I'm spent, and content, but soon, realise the situation I'm in.

	It takes me some time to clean up after myself, I use a little magic, but it's mostly by hand, by necessity since I only know a very little magic. It was fun but I don't think I should do that too often, I conclude, as I head back to the bathroom for another bath.

Clytemnestra dumps her bags and belt on the floor, “You should have come with me, lady. A most productive morning.”

I smile at her from my bed, where I've been lying for an hour or so, studying one of Lecto's books, making slide-rule calculations and noting the conclusions in my own book, “I wanted a bath. Felt good.”

“A real bath is in a river or lake. It's cool and deep and big, not a little bowl of water to sit in.”

“Kyani sat in mine with me. That was fun.”

“Ah, that's how it is. I'm gone for a few hours and you jump in the bath with the first pretty face that wonders by?”

“Well...” Actually, that's exactly what happened, “Well, yes.”

	I can't help but smile warmly at the memory of that oh-so-hairy honeypot.

“Good! For one dreadful moment I thought you'd spent the entire morning reading and playing with your silly number disc.”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

“Any progress?” she asks, peering without comprehension at my book.

“Yes, I got her knickers.”

“I meant...”

“I know what you meant. It's hard to describe... Elements, some elements make sense. I can change a thing's temperature, or the wavelength... that means colour. Colour of light, or make a solid a liquid or gas or vice versa. A few other tricks too. But those are only changing one thing, trying to combine two effects is more than twice as complicated and it gets more-so from there. I don't even know where I'd begin if I wanted to create something new, rather than just altering something that already exists.”

“Ah, you can't expect these things to be swift. Now put that book down and come and get some lunch.”

	So I do, and we go to the ordinary and eat kedgeree and apples and watch the peaceful late-lunchtime customers. Clytemnestra tells me all about her morning – how she'd made her way to the merchants' quarter and spoken at length to caravan drivers and traders about the geography of the north and where a traveller might go next.

	She talks about a long disused trading road north, and high mountain passes west and the coastal cities of the east from whence we might sail almost anywhere and she makes each option sound exciting and romantic, but gives me little by which to choose between them.

	Suddenly I realise she's not talking and I've simply been sitting here daydreaming and staring into her beautiful eyes... I swiftly try to gather my wits.

“How can I choose?” I ask, weakly.

“Then perhaps I will, or perhaps not. These are just ideas. We needn't leave just yet.”

“Good. I'm still not thrilled about being a... A bouncer, but this place isn't bad, or this city.”

“How should you know. You've scarcely left this building since we arrived.”

	That's true. Clytemnestra has been out and about almost every day – and some nights too, I think. She sleeps so much less than I, I can't blame her for not staying in our room all night. I, though, I haven't left the ordinary more than once or twice since that first day.

“Well... uh. I suppose not. I'm a country girl, always have been. I don't like cities. Cities frazzle my nerves a bit, they're too hectic, to busy, to crowded. But for a city, this isn't that bad.”

“You're a strange one. Your kind build cities – you're a social people, even more than centaurs. You love being amongst others, masses of them. I just assumed you'd be happy to be here.”

“I am! Well, mostly. It's nice to have a roof, and regular meals and... and lots of women to look at... Not that they compare to you. But on the whole, no, I don't like cities.”

	Clytemnestra smiles at the compliment. I don't know if she believes me, though of course it's the truth. It's also true that I am enjoying the chance to rest my eyes on a lot of very attractive women, women who mostly seem to like other women.

“Ah, but you said you would travel with me, and see the world, no?” Clytemnestra asks, wistfully.”

“I did.”

“And will you hide away from this part of it? Come out with me tomorrow, as a favour to me, for my pleasure in your company?”

“You mean, like a date?”

She thinks on that for only a moment, “Yes.”

“I'd love to.”

	Clytemnestra leans over the table and kisses me gently.

	I'm excited as we set out in the morning. I've put on my nicest clothes, my sleeveless red satin blouse and my long, pleated red skirt embroidered with roses. My blouse is so short, leaving my flat tummy exposed and showing my thick, dark treasure rail all the way down from my navel disappearing under the waistband of my skirt. Thick tufts of black hair are easily visible beneath my arms and on full display every time I raise them in this loose, sleeveless top.

	A broad, dense treasure trail and a great patch of hair beneath each arm is considered highly attractive in this world, part of the cultural ideal of female beauty  and something to show off with clothes that reveal both.

	I plait my hair like Clytemnestra likes, it's so long, and such a pain to do, but she's worth it. I don't know what she may have planned, if anything, but I am content just to walk by her side, to hold her hand and be in her company.

	As intoxicating as Clytemnestra's company is, and it is, I am equally thrilled just to be able to walk with the woman I love, to hold her hand, kiss her if I want and be normal! In this world I can do all of those things, and no one thinks it's strange, or wrong, or some kind of political point-scoring demonstration of pride!

	I can be in love with a woman and it's not a matter for shame or pride, or any kind of emotion but that love itself. As bizarre as it sounds, I – a sorceress, and the only light-skinned person in this city, walking hand in hand with a centaur, feel normal. Normalcy is a powerful, addictive feeling.

	Clytemnestra shows me to the merchants' quarter where she'd been yesterday and we slowly wonder amongst the vast open-air market. People hawk spices and dyes and bright coloured cloth and pretty birds with ribbons tied to their legs. Clytemnestra buys me a piece of hot, fresh gingerbread when I tell her it's my favourite.

	Of course, I haven't anything like her stamina, and even if I did, I really do find such crowded places stressful. So, after a few such hours of wondering and window shopping I'm very happy to find that we have reached a strip of lush, attractive pleasure gardens which run for some way along the riverbank. With hindsight, Clytemnestra was clearly guiding our seemingly aimless wandering to this place.

	 Attractive, happy looking people promenade by the sparkling green water and handsome, painted marble statues dot the landscape amongst old growth trees. Clytemnestra leads me deeper into the gardens until we come to a wide shallow amphitheatre. There are already many people here, couples and families with excited children all talking amongst themselves, or laughing or waving to friends. Some of the children gasp and point at Clytemnestra and she giggles until their mothers tell them not to. A little troop of people in the centre mill about, tinkering with the contents of a couple of wheeled chests. 

	It's all together an agreeable spot to pause and enjoy a little wine which Clytemnestra produces proudly from her bag. I recline comfortably against her body and light one of my long, thin cigars. Clytemnestra explains her devious plan, how carefully she'd had to regulate our morning to arrive here just at the right time, which we have.

	The performers in the centre, dressed in outrageous rainbow-coloured clothes and wielding props twice the size or more of whatever they represent begin their story.

	It's a wonderful kind of pantomime about a knight called Pretty Silly (and she is both of those things) and her best friend Bookish the Sorceress and their increasingly convoluted schemes to get married and get rich, respectively. The plot, such as it is, is all mixed with with big doses of knockabout comedy, a legion of puns, long stretches of swapping jokes with the audience and an ad-libbed interlude where the characters complain about what terrible actors they have to portray them.

	I love every minute of it. When a girl makes her way through the audience collecting donations in a leather bag, Clytemnestra and I both pay generously and consider it well worth the price.

	In the finale Pretty Silly rushes up the amphitheatre's steps brandishing her oversized gun and sword to save the money collector from the audience – describing us as a mean looking bunch who will no doubt want our money back after such a terrible play. The money collector gives Pretty Silly the takings in gratitude and since that makes Pretty Silly rich, Bookish marries her and everyone's happy.

	Clytemnestra and I applaud as loudly as anyone when the cast bow and wave. We sit for just a little while longer while other people climb the amphitheatre and go on with their days and the actors at the bottom pack up their giant props and silly clothes.

	I admit I had my doubts about spending the day roaming the city, but walking back to the the ordinary I feel very content. I squeeze Clytemnestra's hand in my own and lean against her strong, comforting body as we walk. I really did enjoy looking around the markets of the merchants' quarter, despite the crowds. The play was just the thing to make me forget my fraying nerves afterwards and it was very funny. Moreover, I still, still just love to be with Clytemnestra.

	I'm in an excellent mood all the afternoon and even into the evening while she and I watch the taproom and deal with the night-to-night villainy that has become almost routine to me. I'm no longer so intimidated by it, I accept it and by accepting it, it's power over me is broken somewhat.

	So comfortable am I that come closing time, for the first time I'm not completely impatient to escape the place at closing time. Clytemnestra gratefully bids goodnight to the waitresses and heads for our room. I know her routine well by now, she'll have one of her little fifteen minute naps and I decide to hang around the taproom for that quarter hour and have a little drink. Then I'll go and give her a damned good seeing to! That sounds like a splendid plan to me.

	Kyani passes by clearing tables and I ask her for a cup of red wine. When she returns she puts the cup in front of me and then sits herself down on my lap, arms around my neck and enticing little boobies thrusting under my chin.

I can't help but be a little surprised, “Ooh!”

“The other day was fun!” she giggles into my ear. Her giggle sets those lovely brown breasts quivering excitedly in her teeny tiny top.

	She squirms tighter into my lap and I put my hands around her narrow waist.

“I had fun too.”

“Well there'll always be a place for you between my legs,” she whispers happily, “Especially tonight. I need another ride on your lips.”

	My body can't fail to respond to such lewd talk, already aroused as I am by thoughts of Clytemnestra. Ah, Clytemnestra, or Kyani... No contest. I love Kyani's cunt, but I love Clytemnestra. There's the difference.

	For emphasis, Kyani kisses the lips she wants to ride, visions of her huge bush swim in my lust-drenched mind. Distractedly I hear the tittering of a couple of the other barmaids.

“Ah, but I think,” I manage to mutter, fleeing her kiss for a moment, “I think That would be too selfish of me... Unless of course, you'd consent to giving Clytemnestra a taste too?”

“Clytemnestra!? So you and she really are? I mean, do? She's a centaur!”

“I've noticed.”

“That sounds so wrong...”

“Try it, you may like it,” I lick my lips, “And I'll not give you so much as a kiss on the cunny unless she can too.”

	I can see real temptation in Kyani's eyes. It's gratifying to know how much the girl wants me, or at least, my mouth, and I certainly want her, if less than I want Clytemnestra. Both together though? That will be a lot of fun.

“Okay, you win. Oh! What won't I do for a woman with a tongue like yours?”

	I can't help but flash her a predatory smile and steal another kiss while the other girls nudge one another and make salacious comments in undertones on their way out of the taproom.

	She tries and fails to stand, wheels turn in my head. I keep my grip about her waist.

“No,” I say, sweetly.

“What?”

“What wont you do for a woman with a tongue like mine?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, let's see what you'll do for me? Will you sit right here, on my lap and wet yourself?”

“Wet my..! You can't be serious.”

	Her face is halfway between shock and laughter, as though I may be joking. Of course I'm not. She looks dumbly at me for a long time. I meet her stare, eye to eye.

“I want you to wet yourself, right now, right here.”

“I... I can't!”

“Try,” I enthuse, before kissing her, she doesn't kiss me back, shocked and confused.

“I... I... I...” she stammers and looks around the empty room for I don't know what.

“Wet yourself, Kyani.”

	I'm so excited, so turned on. Kyani is shaking on my lap, her body flooded with conflicting desires, with fear and lust and revulsion and more besides.

“It's wrong...”

	I interrupt her, speaking quiet, urgent words, my lips almost against her ear, as intimate as telepathy, “It's wet, and it's hot and nasty and sexy and sordid and I want you to wet yourself right now and I want to feel your piss soaking into my lap and running down my thighs and wetting my wet cunt!”

“I don't... I can't...”

	I can almost hear her heartbeat, she's trembling with nerves, but I feel her weight shift subtly, I feel muscles shift against my lap, I feel her tense slightly.

“Good girl.”

	It takes a long time. So long. But yes! Her weight shifts slightly again and I feel a hot, wet trickle. A wonderful patch of warmth and wet grows against my thighs. I kiss her and kiss her and kiss her.

“I'm doing it! I'm doing it!” She's almost laughing.

	Her face is wild and exultant and shocked all at once. She stares down unbelievingly at the dark wet spot growing on her short black skirt Now a thin stream of pee splashes between her slightly parted legs, the force pushing it through her no doubt sodden pants.

	Oh! I must taste it! I snatch up my wine cup and hold it to the stream. Kyani's lovely piss splashes noisily into the red wine, throwing glittering droplets into the air. The cup is brimming almost immediately and I bring it to my thirsty lips. Kyani gasps unbelieving as I down the froth topped pissy wine in one long draught.

	Wonderful, the taste is just watery wine, but the knowledge of what I'm drinking is erotic and nasty and I love it! Kyani's shock and the wet heat soaking through my skirt is beyond exciting.

	Just in time I return the cup to her flowing crotch to catch the last little spurts to make it through her knickers. Kyani has barely begun to recover her composure when I bring the cup toward her lips and she recoils in horror.

“No!”

	Shame, that would have been so perfect, but I'm not inclined to force her. I've had better of her than I'd hoped and on the up side, if she won't drink it, I can, and do.

	She watches me drink, fascinated horror on her face, like someone watching an accident and unable to look away. I put the cup down again and for one long moment, debate kissing her. No. Not yet anyway.

	She's squirming on my lap again, clearly unused to the feeling of wet thighs and clothes. Her sex must be soaked, all that thick black hair, absolutely dripping with her piss. I have to get her to the bedroom now!

“Wonderful...” I sigh, meaning it, “Delicious.”

“I... That was...”

	She can't seem to think of a way to end that thought, so I heave her to her feet and, taking her by the hand, steer her for the exit and the bedroom I share with Clytemnestra.

	I almost wish it was farther to go to reach our bedroom, just to walk farther all lovely and wet with Kyani's pee. It's soaked my skirt, making a giant wet spot all across my thighs and wrapping around. I can even see little drops running down Kyani's thighs. It's all I can do not to dive down and lick her all clean again.

	We barge into the bedroom... Well, I do, Kyani I think is still in shock at what I made her do, she just follows her own hand as I pull it, and her inside.

	My name dies on Clytemnestra's lips as she sees I'm not alone. Immediately she also sees the big wet spots on our skirts and smiles lustily.

“What have we here?” she purrs.

“Um... Clytemnestra... Um... Hi?” Kyani manages, weakly, trying hopelessly to hide her wet crotch from view.

	I skip into the sexy centaur's arms and kiss her lavishly when she bends down to meet my lips. Kyani gasps, no doubt remembering me swallowing her piss a minute before. I wonder if Clytemnestra can taste it.

“Well I never have seen the like!” Clytemnestra exclaims, when I let her, “Two grown women have both wet themselves

	Kyani squeaks, panicked and shamed, glancing about, at a loss for what to say.

“That's not true!” I reply, acting just as indignant as Clytemnestra is pretending to be, “I did not wet myself.”

	I pause for just a moment before switching to a far more petulant tone, “Kyani wet us both, so there!”

	That's more than enough teasing of the poor girl. I fall to my knees before her, raising the hem of her tiny skirt.

“And now, it's time for her reward.”

	Her little white pants are utterly wet, soaked through with heady, aromatic pee and muskier feminine love. Masses of black hair escapes from all edges and shows through the wet material. I press my face hard to her pissy wet knickers and breath deep. My hand rubs hard, trying to stimulate my cunt through my clothes.

“You're really going to eat me after that?”

“Try and stop me!”

	I lick passionately at her knickers. Even if I never get at her sex I could lick her knickers all night long and be happy.

“What if I try?” Clytemnestra's strong hands ease me back from Kyani, “I think it's only fair, don't you?”

	She takes Kyani by the hand and seats her on the edge of my normally unused bed. I can only watch enviously as Clytemnestra settles to the floor and leans between Kyani's shapely brown legs. By the time I've torn my clothing off, Clytemnestra has Kyani's out of her pants and I deftly snatch them from her hand.

	The most beautiful woman in the world is right in front of me, lapping noisily at the hairiest cunt I've ever seen. If a sight alone could send me over the edge of ecstasy then I'd know, because this would be it.

	I jump on to my bed where I can see them perfectly. My fingers work hard at my overexcited sex while with the other hand I hold Kyani's soaking knickers to my face. I draw great lungfuls of her wonderful scents, else lick greedily at the wet fabric.

	Kyani's hands grip the centaur's head, her joyful mewling mixes with my own little gasps of pleasure as we both rise toward our plateaux. I masturbate faster and faster, watching these two women, remembering the feeling of Kyani's hair against my face and the feel of Clytemnestra's mouth against my sex.

	Three fingers continuously make a rapid circuit over my clitty, driving me higher toward the peak of pleasure, my own dense pubic hair tickling the palm of my hand delightfully. The taste and smell of Kyani's piss drenched pants underline every erotic sensation, every sound and sight of the woman herself quaking under my lover's assault.

	I come at last with a long, hard-drawn sigh, my fingers jerking wildly, sex contracting, spasming making every muscle in my body misfire until I fall back on the bed, sniffing Kyani's knickers and listening to her own orgasm.

	Too good an opportunity to pass up and in a trice I'm on her, kissing her moaning mouth and groping a firm breast through her thin top. I kiss her down from orgasm. I kiss her soft, warm lips and she kisses me back, hungry for the sensual pleasure until, as her orgasm ebbs she freezes. She realises, I think, who she's kissing, whose lips and what those lips have done!

	I look at her. Our lips part and our eyes meet, holding one another's gaze for a long moment, faces inches apart. I kiss her again and she doesn't resist.

	I kiss along the line of her jaw, and down her neck. My lips trail little kisses and licks across her collar bone and down her chest, toward her tempting cleavage as I open her blouse. She's worked up quite a sweat under Clytemnestra's care and I can taste the salt tang on her skin.

	I raise her arms above her head. Little droplets of crystal sweat cling to the mass of black hair under each arm until I lick it away, the the strong sweet scent and salt taste as powerfully erotic as the feel of the rough hair against my tongue.

	No! I shan't be distracted. As desirable as Kyani is, I want Clytemnestra right now! There she is, still licking Kyani's hairy snatch just for the fun of the thing, and who can blame her? I roll to my feet and scamper around her, pausing only for the quickest squeeze of her breasts. Just because I can. Kyani's disappointed sigh would bring almost anyone back to her. Not me though!

	Not now I can see Clytemnestra's infinitely edible sex so wonderfully on display beneath her swishing black tail. Clear trails of glistening nectar run down from her beckoning black womanhood. It winks constantly, showing me little flashes of pink from between the engorged black lips.

	Clytemnestra's whole body jerks the moment my fingers touch her there. She's so sensitive and I love the power I have to make her feel nice. I settle as close as I can to her big, glossy, black body, leaning forward until my face is an inch away from her most intimate place. The heat radiating from her is amazing, the smell of her arousal all-consuming

	I carefully spread her lips apart exposing her wonderful hard clitty just waiting to be suckled. I wait as long as I can stand, until I know that Clytemnestra can feel my hot breath on her wet lips and must be aching for the feel of my lips and tongue.

	Finally when I can no longer stand to wait I tease her labia with just the tip of my tongue. I want more. I love the way her cunt tastes and smells. I want it so badly, but I can be strong a little longer. I slowly, lightly work my way up and down the spread lips and even gently touch her clit. I think I can stand no more teasing. At last I allow my tongue deeper into her sex. The warm, wet embrace against my face is heaven.

	I lap at her slick pink walls, noisy and wet and wonderful. Her juices overflow and I do my utmost to suck and lick every drop up. Her love coats my face and drips down my chin, I feel it run down my neck, and drips fall onto my thighs.

	Two fingers slide effortlessly into her slick canal, but I know she can take more than that. She can take more than that and I can give it to her! Two fingers glide in and out of her streaming cunny, then three and four. Four fingers piston into her and her body jerks back and forth to meet them. I give her a long moment of this stimulation before folding my thumb tight into my palm and on the final forward-stroke I'm in!

“Aaah!” She cannot help but cry out, even muffled as she is by Kyani's hairy jungle.

	My whole hand is in her tight horsey cunt! In, out, in, out every stroke a fraction deeper than the one before. So tight and so, so very hot, I need all my strength to drive my arm within her. My muscles burn and sweat beads on my brow with the effort of it.

	Clytemnestra is quivering all over, no longer able to meet my thrusts in any deliberate way, she gasps insensibly into Kyani's bush. Her quaking cunt contracts rhythmically around my arm, now thrusting almost elbow deep. She must be so close to coming and I want nothing more than to drive her over that divine precipice.

	My lips meet her tight, puckered bum. A long hard kiss on her secret place, my tongue forcing its way against the centre of her ring. She wails aloud, body quaking like never before, her cunt spasming, locking down so tight that I too cry out, in pain not pleasure.

	Her orgasm is almost tectonic in ferocity. Kyani squeals in fright, cringing away and I can but suffer through the pain as my hand is crushed by Clytemnestra's sex.

	Finally, mercifully, she descends from space I withdraw my abused, aching arm inch by inch, slowly since every motion makes her love canal tense up again. With a last gentle tug I am free and I stagger to my bed where Kyani sits shocked, and Clytemnestra's hominine half lays panting deliriously. I lay back heavily, laughing gently at the wonderful feeling. The feeling that I, small and unimportant, can have such an effect on so magnificent, majestic woman as Clytemnestra is overwhelming.

	There's movement on the bed and a soft, warm tongue touches my chest, Kyani licks the centaur's nectar from my skin and I let her, too tired to stop her or play with her. Her hands stroke my skin, grope at my little breasts while her lips encircle a nipple. Now, more hands, large and strong. Clytemnestra spreads my legs and pulls me toward her until my arse hangs over the edge of the bed and my legs are around her hot body.

	I let her have her way, to tired to resist. Kyani's soft lips suck at my breasts. Clytemnestra's finds my cunt. I sigh happily and start to pee.