Saturday, June 29, 2013

Wind in White Birch - Issue # 26

Hello all! My name is V.L. Locey.  I am a self-published and traditionally published author that lives in the mountains of Pennsylvania with my husband of over twenty-one years, my seventeen year old daughter, a herd of dairy goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, two dogs, two cats, and a partridge in a pear tree. For more info about me and contact links, check out the author bio tab up above.

Enough about me, let`s get back to Wind in White Birch and our lovers Jonah and Dana.

Wind in White Birch


V.L. Locey

Issue Twenty-Six


                Waking up took some time. It wasn`t that I didn`t want to come awake, it was that I was so exhausted that my eyes couldn`t manage to flutter open. Even with a tall, toasty warm, very aroused and wantonly naked Jonah Big Deer flush against my back sleep was being persistent. He murmured something. I groaned in that half-sleep state. His hand skimmed over my belly making the flesh twitch uncontrollably.

                “Dana?” he whispered, rubbing the rim of my belly button with his index finger.

                “Mmm,” seemed to be the only sound I could make anymore, which was fine really. It was a perfect expression of how I felt after making love all night.

                “Are you awake?” he asked, flattening his hand over my abdomen, his pinkie finger resting in my womanly curls. God, he was long and hard already.

                “I`m not sure . . .” I paused to wet my lips then tried again, “I`m not sure I`m up to another round right now, Jonah.”

                He made a contented man sound, sort of similar to the sound of a rooster puffing up his breast feathers.  I wanted to roll my eyes but even they were too tired to move.

                “Some cougar you are,” he teased, nipping me lightly along my bicep with white teeth. His hair slid over my back and arm and right breast. The nipple perked up. Obviously there was at least one part of my body that was looking for more action, the hussy. “I`ll be good and let the old lady rest.”

                For that he got a heated F-Bomb dropped on him.

                “You kiss your grandmother with that mouth?” he asked, placing soft pecks to my arm, shoulder and neck until his lips were at my ear. “I wanted you to hear it from me now, before we leave this bed and have to face my family and all their bullshit.”

                I scrunched my eyes closed and tried not to see the dislike on Julia`s face. “Will there be bullshit?”

                He moved behind me slightly. I rolled tighter to his chest. I liked being here a lot.

                “Probably, but it`s just that. It`s bullshit. My family can`t tell me who to love, and I do love you, Dana. That`s what I want you to hear. I don`t think I said it last night.”

                I wriggled around like a butterfly wrestling about inside its chrysalis so I could see his face. He was intent on my reaction, his head resting in his hand.

                “You said it every way possible,” I told him.

                “I want to say it this way,” he argued gently then told me again. A rush of emotion blossomed inside me, easing my aches and pains. I wrapped my fingers around his manhood and squeezed. Jonah groaned and I began to grow slick. Okay, so a few other parts were waking up and wanted more apparently.

                “Can you tell me a different way as well?”

                “I thought you said . . .”

“Don`t argue with someone older than you.”

With a rumbling moan he captured my mouth and kissed me until I was undulating against him. His weight shifted once more. I embraced him as he slid over and into me. Soft, tender words tumbled from both of us while the bedding enveloped us. Words of love, devotion, caring, passion, and need filled my heart, just as Jonah did.


Sometime later we stumbled from bed. Okay, I stumbled from bed. Jonah seemed to be less done in by the nighttime calisthenics than me.  He had already showered and was downstairs making breakfast when I was tenderly scrubbing the signs of our love making from my body. The hot water pelting my tired back and thigh muscles felt fabulous. As I was drying off I wondered what this early spring day would bring.

The sun was shining brightly when I walked into the huge kitchen. I stopped, smiled widely, and eyed Jonah`s ass as he flipped flapjacks on a smoky griddle. Even with a frilly apron tied around his waist, he was one hundred percent male.

“Nothing I like better than a man in an apron,” I teased, strolling over to stand beside him. He waggled a dark eyebrow and grabbed a fast kiss.

“I thought about wearing just the apron but I didn`t want to burn any important parts.”

“Thank god for denim,” I said, patted that delicious backside of his, and then scurried around to get out the milk and syrup from the massive fridge. “This is one hell of a kitchen,” I noted as we sat down at a long table made to seat a slew of guests. Jonah threw his hair over his shoulder as he passed the platter heaped with pancakes to me.

“Yeah, it`s a big one. I`ll need to find a cook too, and a bookkeeper. I hate doing paperwork, I`m more the outside guy, you know?”

I nodded. “I noticed that,” I said slathering my pancake with butter then drowning it with syrup. I was famished. He chuckled and dove into his food with gusto. “Work up an appetite?” I asked innocently. The look I got made my heart rate spike.

“Didn`t you?” he inquired, ebony eyes caressing me as he chewed. I should have come up with something witty but I was just too well loved to do so.

“You`re an amazing lover, did you know that?” I said, lowering my fork to my plate. That seemed to knock him off his blocks a bit. Jonah blinked then smiled. “I`m not just saying that to make you feel good, it`s true.”

“You inspire me,” he said, reaching around the coffee cups to grab my hand. I glanced from our fingers to him.

“Did I mention how much I love you?” I asked my voice a mere whisper that nearly got lost amid the wind whistling through the white birch trees.

“A time or two,” Jonah lifted my fingers and kissed my knuckles. “We better eat before we end up having sex right here on the table.”

“You say that as if it would be a bad thing,” I murmured as I slid my hand from his. His laugh was short and warm. I wanted nothing more from life than to sit across from Jonah every morning so I could hear him laugh and talk.

“Damn Dana, what would your priest say?” he teased, flipping a few more flapjacks onto his plate. “I love you too, Gano: da.”

“Night Song,” I said, rolling the endearment over my tongue until it was embedded in my psyche for eternity. He was about to say something when we heard car doors slamming.

Jonah exhaled then stabbed at his pancakes violently. “And so the bullshit begins,” he grumbled. It wasn`t a minute later Julia`s voice bounced throughout the lodge.

I washed down my last bite of food with some of the industrial strength coffee Jonah had brewed. I would need to be wide awake and running on all eight cylinders to deal with what was to come I feared.


Friday, June 28, 2013

Sultry Summer Finale By Cathy Brockman

Sultry Summer Finale
By Cathy Brockman

As the night wore on, the ladies got drunk and excited dancing with men and with each other. Bonita found herself more and more turned on and more and more confused that Summer kept creeping into her fantasies. Deciding she needed to put some distance between the two of them she motioned Summer to the table.
“Hey, I think I’m gonna call a cab and head home, it’s getting late and I think the hottie in the cowboy hat you have been dancing the last several dances with, has ideas of his own. I don’t want to put a damper on things for you.” Bonita hoped Summer didn’t pick up on the hint of jealousy in her voice.
“Ahh, Sam? He’s just a friend. I’m afraid to take him to bed. I don’t want to jeopardize the relationship we have; though he is pretty tempting. I like Wayne though and want to see where that might go, so I’d better just go home too.” Summer took a long drink, eyes cast down at the table as if in deep thought.
“Why don’t you stay over tonight”, she said, a hint of hopefulness in her voice and desire in her eyes.
Bonita sat quietly for a moment thinking whether or not this would be a good idea. Summer squeezed her thigh lightly and Bonita nodded in agreement. Bonita paid the bill and they called a cab.
The cab ride home was filled with tension, both women trying to decide what their next move would be. Both thinking of that kiss in the fitting room and wondering if there was more to the relationship or was it too risky for their friendship.
Arriving at Summer’s house, Bonita gazed over Summer’s trim, but curvy body as she unlocked the door. The combination of the muggy temperature and the need to touch her bloomed throughout her body.

“Wanna drink? I have wine and some diet cokes and a bottle of Jack.” Summer tossed the keys and her purse on the table by the door.
“Sure, whichever you’re having is fine with me I like all three.” Bonita put her clutch on the table by Summer’s.
“I guess I should have gone to the house and got me an overnight bag”, Bonita said, following Summer into the kitchen.
“It’s okay, I have an extra sleep-shirt you can wear, if you decide to sleep in anything at all!” Summer winked suggestively as she poured them both a glass of wine, and took some strawberries, a bottle of chocolate sauce and a can of whipped topping from the fridge, sitting them on a tray.
Bonita swallowed hard as she picked up the two wine glasses and followed Summer into the living room to the couch. Summer sat the tray on the coffee table and took one of the glasses of wine, patting the couch next to her.
Reluctantly Bonita sat, the heat of Summer’s bare legs touching hers, causing her to lick her drying lips.
“Let’s toast, to new roommates and a new start on life.” Summer clinked her glass to Bonita’s and their eyes met.
Summer’s free hand slid slowly up Bonita’s thigh as she sat her glass on the table reaching for Bonita’s.
“I’ve thought of nothing but that kiss since that night. Nita, tell me it wasn’t just because you were drunk.” Her warm hand slid further up Bonita’s thigh, stopping just as her fingertips reached the edge of her high-cut panties.
“Want me to stop here?” Her finger softly traced the elastic brushing lightly against the moist heat.
Bonita shook her head as she leaned in closer to Summer’s face, her hand now sliding up Summers thigh, rubbing her hot damp core. Summer gasped as their mouths clashed hungrily; both women’s tongues tasting, teasing, and battling for dominance. As Summer’s fingers slid beneath the thin layer of silk, Bonita gave into her best friend, letting Summer take the lead. Summer stood, pulling Bonita up from the couch, offering an unspoken invitation of following her to the bedroom. Summer placed the wine glasses on the tray and Bonita followed her.
 In the bedroom, Summer put the tray on the night stand, pulling back the bedding, motioning Bonita to sit. Summer put on a CD of Evanescence turning it down to a soft murmur; she lit a couple of candles and turned off the light.
Summer started swaying to the music in a seductive strip tease until she was in nothing but a lacy red bra and a matching thong.
“No. I want to do that. It’s all I have thought about for days,” Summer whispered as she took the hem of Bonita’s shirt from her. Straddling Bonita’s knees, Summer slowly raised the shirt over Bonita’s head, dipping for a hungry kiss as she tossed the shirt to the floor. Coming up for a breath, she gently pushed Bonita down on the bed, dropping to her knees, lifting Bonita’s hips as she pushed her skirt up higher. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and started sliding the silky wet panties down; burning a trial of hot kisses down the exposed flesh of Bonita’s legs. When she reached her feet she slipped off her shoes, kissing her foot and eliciting a moan from Bonita as she gently sucked one toe into her mouth, working her way up the opposite leg, kissing and licking. When she reached the now bare treasure she had dreamed about all week she began a slow seductive torture of licking and exploring with her tongue and fingers.
“Oh shit, Summer! I’m coming. Stop. No don’t stop. Please more. Oh shit! Yes! Yes! So good!” Bonita moaned and pleaded as Summer continued her assault through at least two explosive orgasms.
Summer stood gazing heatedly at her sexy friend, now lover, trembling in aftershocks. She took Bonita’s legs and slid them up onto the bed, removing her skirt and climbed up next to her. Both ladies now in just their bras and panties. Summer removed her bra and straddled Bonita, leaning down for a long, sensuous kiss.
Tasting her essence mingled with mint, wine and Summer’s unique taste, Bonita slid her fingers up Summers thighs, pushing the thong aside and started her own tease, strumming Summer until her friend began bucking and moaning. Summer reached to the nightstand for the chocolate sauce, rubbing some liberally over her bare breasts. With her free hand she reached behind Bonita, unhooking her bra, and then smeared the chocolate over her full large breasts. As she leaned forward, Bonita began licking the chocolate from her friend; licking and teasing each hard nipple with her teeth. Summer moaned as she rode Bonita’s fingers, screaming in ecstasy as she went over the edge. Summer collapsed beside her lover, catching her breath. After a moment or two to recuperate she grabbed the whipped cream and started licking the chocolate from Bonita’s full breast, also teasing and biting one nipple while pinching the other.  Summer shuddered and gasped as she sprayed some of the cold whipped topping onto her own mound, then onto Bonita’s.
“Now for the grand finale,” she said climbing back on top of Bonita, this time her firm round ass and mound coated with whipped cream over Bonita’s face as she dipped down and started licking the whipped cream before her.
 Both women climaxed repeatedly until they lay in an exhausted heap. Summer stroked Bonita’s face lovingly, “so what do ya say? Gonna move in?”
“Most definitely! How soon do you want me to start packing?”
“Tomorrow! Now let’s get you cleaned up.” Summer smiled seductively as she led her new roommate to the shower.

Not the end but a new beginning

If you missed the first episode you can find it here 
The second here 

The third here

Thursday, June 27, 2013

Steamheat: Captain Malloy

In the world of airships, steam power and mechanical clockworks, we left Eliza stowing away on a parting airship by hiding in  an escape pod. What do you think will happen to our injured heroine?  Let's tune in to find out.  

Steamheat:  Captain Malloy
Ben Hannigan

James Malloy stood in his chambers in a simple linen shirt and leather side-laced trousers. The air was hot and humid, the brass walls dripping with the condensed water from the engine rooms below. Though he was the captain, this vessel had little room for luxury as it was dedicated to the paying customers playing at sailor. He could and did fly the vessel alone with the aid of thinking machines, allowing the “duties” of his cargo to simply be smattering of what their ancestors faced on the water crossings. Each “sailor” doing a stint swabbing deck, a stint in the galley, a stint loading and firing cannon at proddy targets conjured up by the machines, and the most onerous duty, actually the one duty with an affect on the ship, everyone did one shift shoveling coal and coke to the engine room.

Malloy was intimately connected to the ship, he could feel the engines pulsing, feel the machines ticking over. They were in flight, he had met his crew - the usual crowd of upper-class wankers who want a uniform to show off at the club. He stood relaxed, preparing for the show that he always put on halfway through the voyage. 

The ship was attacked, the crew called to arms, and the guns manned. But it’s not enough, the guns they have just aren’t enough though the crew acquit themselves well. The ship is boarded by the British navy. Those elements who betrayed the crown to support the parliament traitors. The speech was a beauty, all about glory, and love of the realm and honour and duty; the kind of third rate claptrap they ate up in the projector halls. Malloy had always been a showman, so he programmed this little stunt into every voyage.

Bellowing orders to the crew from the top deck, members of the crew on watch in the nests with marksman’s rifles and those crew walking the decks finding themselves issues shotguns by shadowy ships mates.  The ship subtly changing from an airship to a British sloop. Drawing the customers into the magic, making it real. It's why his runs were four times the price of any other, and why the company had paid for the spell, those who had experienced it could only speak of it to others who shared the same memories.

The uniforms the “flight crews” are presented with at the end of the voyage for the final inspection carrying rank based on what they had in their background. Some working class boys ending up as officers and some ruling lords being little more than deckhands; the uniforms drawn from the memories in the blood. What the persons family had been in days long past. This was the same as all other aircrew experiences. 

However, ‘Malloys Men’ were different. Their uniforms carried campaign ribbons as well as family medals. Much like the others but they always carried a new badge, one that all of the ‘Aircrew’ could see. Which made for instinctive respect and deference, much like a new unbloodied trooper would defer to one who had shed blood for his country.

This was where we would find Malloy if we were to observe; in his chamber bouncing on the balls of his feet with a sabre in hand dueling two shadowy figures.  He was an accomplished swordsman using it in honour duels. In displays, in entertainment and in order to save his life once, long ago. So he trained, each day faster and harde,r pushing himself, determined that he would not fail if attacked like that again. The sabre blurring, a pistol appearing in the other, surrounded by the dead servitor spirits he fought on until exhaustion. His bones shaking, limbs burning with the pain.  

Then the world went black. His cabin was no longer dark, murky alleyways or battlefield, no longer places from Malloy's troubled past, but instead a simple room for a sailor. A hammock strung across each windowless wall, a trunk set, a cabinet of provisions and the thinking engines, the displays, the input devices and the tape printers making a slow comforting sound that reminded him he wasn't alone, almost like the heartbeat of a lover. 

He stripped and roughly bathed himself with a soapy rag and bucket of icy water before standing under a venting steam pipe to spray him with a refreshing mist of water.  Standing there taking time to wash the last of his body, his mind returned to his swordplay.  Taking his weapon up and fighting a very different duel, focusing on the feeling, the exhilaration, and the pleasure of tasting warm skin.  The honey sweetness of a girl's kiss, the soft cream of their skin, the pink rosy nipple under his lips and trailing down the stomach tasting her, sweat mixing with her natural sweet musk.  And as he parted her legs in his mind, the blood rushing, pulsing ,sounding like a roaring tide in his ears as he tasted her scent, the rich sweet musk melding into this whirlpool of heat of desire.  The deep honeypot his to devour and explore, as he snaked his tongue deep into his woman’s entrance, hearing her screams of lust as he lost himself in exploring her every inch.  He could feel only the warmth of her on his hand, and immediately the image was gone. The warmth nothing more than the rapidly cooling emission leaking across his hand. He moaned finding himself on his knees, washed up again and lay on the hammock.

Getting some well earned rest in the quiet time of the voyage, the insistent buzzing, like the ship needed to show him something. Still an enigma to him as he wrestled with the question of what she wanted to show or tell him, he succumbed to exhaustion of mind and body and slept.

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

The Dom's Diary: Pallaca

Who is Maxim and what was his proposition? I don't know about you but I'm anxious to find out.

The Dom's Diary:
Abyrne Mostyn 


                Maxim signaled Naobi for a drink of his own before excusing her from the conversation once it was delivered.
“I will summon you to attend my guest if I need to be called away.  Please ask Ren to watch the community room for me until I am done.”
“Yes Maisu.”
                She bowed slightly and left quietly; again I barely caught her verbal response, though as it was meant for him, it was of little consequence.  He watched her leave, turned fully to me, took a long draw of deep amber liquid, set it aside, and began.
“Welcome to my playground.  Like you, I enjoy our world away from the pretenders and the merely curious.  This dungeon was created to serve those like us who want the freedom to partake, without the prying eyes or questions of those who are only playing at the lifestyle but have no place in it.  This is a place to allow opportunities for those who know who they are and what they want, but who choose a level of discretion or exhibition that the public dungeons do not afford.  It is also for those whose lifestyle choices and fetishes have no play place elsewhere.  Everyone here is of consenting age.  Everyone here has also provided medical background proving they are clear of affliction that can be passed through our activities, though birth control is always available.  We collectively and separately enjoy the aspects of the lifestyle here with no risk of persecution or retribution as we all collectively have a stake in the success or failure of this establishment.  We call it ‘The Manse’.  I believe, based on the orders you have placed with my other business, you may fit right in, should you choose to entertain the notion of joining us.”
I thought through the comments he had just made for a few moments, nursing my scotch as I pondered.  I had always believed such places existed, but never knew how to find one.  How do you find what you want when you don’t know what to ask for?  Simple…You don’t.  It finds you.
“That’s quite a substantial proposition you’ve put on the table.  You say Yessenia is to thank for this meeting and subsequently this offer?  Will she be joining us?”
“My sister is likely here somewhere.  She enjoys her proclivities often, though I had not invited her to join us for this discussion.  If you are interested in joining us, I would not put that to you in front of anyone.  It is of course, a choice, but the parameters of our group must be factored and those are no one else’s business.”
  I was nearly blinded by the flashbulb this time.  Looking at him as he relayed their relationship, the familiarity I could not place before, smacked me in the face as I saw many of her features in more masculine relief in front of me. 
“I appreciate the courtesy.  I assure you that should I elect to accept your offer, your conditions are not beyond my ability to meet.  Should I be enquiring about membership costs?  Rules?  Times?  Terms?”
“Perhaps you would like to have a look around.  While I am confident you will be pleased, I do not assume it is for everyone and a conversation of the other details would be premature.”
“If you’d like to lead, I’d be interested to see what you have here.”
Naobi was waiting just beyond the doors in the foyer when we cleared the study.  A small Asian man was by her side and their conversation ceased at Maxim’s appearance.  She moved quickly to his opposite side and walked with us through the halls, leaving the man near the front entrance alone.  Maxim was proud of his manse and with good reason.  Upstairs and down were filled with private spaces to scene.  Some rooms held equipment, some had beds and some held both while others held nothing at all.  Variety abounded from room to room.  There was a lounge, and two community rooms, one that was openly social mingling and the other I knew before we reached, was openly sex.
Sex had a smell; a distinct, indescribable, unmistakable scent that you just know.  To me, the scent of sex had always made me think of the Sahara at the fording point in the land where the rain forest meets the sand and the scents converge.  Walking with Maxim and Naobi as we came up to the last corner, I knew what I would find once we passed the turn, I could smell it.  The high heat and dense damp humidity of sex play was around the corner.  I knew it in my bones.
I was not disappointed.  As we made the turn, we entered an exhibitionist’s dream landscape.  I had never witnessed anything like it.  Around the room dotted in odd tangles of flesh, every proclivity was playing out.  I saw them all, but noticed none save the scene that was playing out from the center of the room.  It caught and held my attention and stole my breath from the moment we cleared the doorway. 
A large guilt frame was fastened upright to the girders, immobile and hovering over a small platform two steps up from the floor.  The woman inside appeared to be floating, balancing on just the balls of her feet on tiny tree stands that were built into the sides of the frame.  Her hands were high above her head, grasping the straps that connected her wrist manacles to the frame at the top.   The harsh manacles a hard contrast to the canvas of soft skin she presented openly in the frames display.
Though her head was down, I knew without knowing that it was Yessenia.  The tension and arousal played across her features as she relaxed into each new lick of the whip that was being thrown from behind her and the sheet of mahogany swung forward and back as she returned to pose.  The snap and crack of each throw was distinct.  I knew from those sounds that it was a single lash that was being applied.  It was too crisp to be a cat or compound.  I also knew by the time of the drags in between that the thrower was holding back.  This was for pleasure, not punishment.  Yessenia’s full mouth was dropped to gap open with soft pants and I was transfixed to watch her.  Through the fall of her hair I saw her eyes open and caught the flash gleam of recognition and pleasure before the next stripe fell and she was again lost to the euphoria of the sensations.  She was near to gone, but fighting to hold out for more.  She was magnificent.
We walked the circumference of the room.  Every new angle only added to the experience.  Able to watch another dance for someone else’s whip for the first time in ages, I had forgotten the eroticism of it and craved seeing her take more.  It wasn’t for several moments that I realized I was no longer looking at Yessenia.  We were on the opposite side of the room from where we had come in and I found I was not watching the dancer but the Domme. 
She was a petite package, wrapped like no gift I’d ever gotten, but one I was wont to have, right then.  Wrapped in a second skin of leather, she wore fitted chaps that hugged her legs from ankles to hips.  The cutaway exposed a micro thong of lace and pearls.  A leather bustier and fingerless elbow length leather gloves covered the top half, with nothing more.  Her back and shoulders unclad and free ranging to throw as she chose, it was the perfect outfit if she had to wear anything at all.  Thick auburn tresses swung from a high ponytail that brushed back and forth against her ass cheeks with each swing as I watched.  The rounded globes of her cheeks were pushed up and out by heels just high enough to accent her curves and I found myself imagining tracing the continents on each of them with my tongue. 
I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t make myself look anywhere else.  Each throw set off a domino of muscle flexion’s that made my fingers twitch to touch her.  Her form was impeccable.  My mind was reeling at the images and stutter-stepped when, several throws later, I realized what I was seeing that I hadn’t realized I was seeing.  In between the sway of her hair and the shift of pearls, a jeweled plug peeked back at me and winked in the lights before hiding away again until the next throw.  My carefully schooled face nearly dropped with my mouth at the onslaught of information.  My head was a whirlwind but my mask was intact, for now.
It was a solid few minutes of Yessenia’s low moan before it built to a keening cry and it was over.  The Domme stepped up to help Yessenia from the frame with the aid of two males I had not seen come forward.  I remained rooted to the spot where I stood with Maxim and his wife, watching the whole thing.  Looking around with only quick glances, I noticed that I was not the only one who was moved by the scene.  The Domme turned just then to walk back towards where we stood.  Had I not been completely undone by the images from the back, I would have been as she approached.  Maxim and Naobi were talking quietly, if it was to me, I could not say.  Walking in my direction was a vision in leather with the most arresting green eyes I had ever seen.  The two men brought Yessenia past us and I heard her speak for only a moment to the woman who had taken her over the edge.
“Thank you Pallaca.”
Maxim brought me out of my blank stare, clasping my shoulder and speaking to me as he gestured the Domme who was merely nodding her reply as Yessenia was led away.
“Thorne, might I introduce you to Cla’vis Tand.”
“Cla’vis, this is Thorne DuFoe.  He is considering our establishment.  Perhaps I can talk you into showing him the rest of the property?  Naobi would like time in the frame and I am never one to deny her.  Thorne is the designer of the cross ours in modeled after.  Perhaps you can show him the modifications we made?”
“It would be my pleasure Maisu.”
“Thorne…stay as long as you like.  Jenner will take you home when you are ready and give you my number.  We will speak again tomorrow.”
With that, Maxim was away, peeling clothes away as he approached the stand of tools along the wall.  I saw that Naobi had already been helped into the frame as Maxim bid me goodnight and was being secured in the manacles.
“This way Mr. DuFoe.”
“Call me Thorne.”
“Ok Thorne.  You may call me Pallaca.”
“What is Pallaca?”
“It’s an old word.  It means mistress.”

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Wind in White Birch - Issue # 25

Hello all! My name is V.L. Locey.  I am a self-published and traditionally published author that lives in the mountains of Pennsylvania with my husband of over twenty-one years, my seventeen year old daughter, a herd of dairy goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, two dogs, two cats, and a partridge in a pear tree. For more info about me and contact links, check out the author bio tab up above.

Enough about me, let`s get back to Wind in White Birch and our lovers Jonah and Dana.

Wind in White Birch


V.L. Locey

Issue Twenty-Five


                Somehow we managed not to break our necks running up the wide curved stairwell. I wanted to stop and drink in the ambiance of Jonah`s other woman, but his insistent gentle tugs on my hand persuaded me to put lodge admiration on the back burner. His room was located at the very top of the steps. I slowed considerably when we entered his sleeping quarters.  There were small oils hanging on the rich buttery log walls and a fireplace that was banked low for the night, this one with a screen that had a meandering bear artfully made into the grillwork. It was his bed though that grabbed my attention, aside from the obvious reason.

                The frame for the queen-sized mattress was cedar logs about as thick as my leg that formed a canopy around the bed. The coverlet was blue and green and thickly ticked. There were no drapes or swags dangling from the logs over the bedding. A short table rested at the end of the bed where some people would have a hope chest. This table held volumes of books on its shelves. Two nightstands flanked the bed and held lamps that appeared to be made from miniature tribal drums. A pair of snowshoes hung above the logs that made up the headboard. To the left of the masculine sleeping spot was a tall coat rack from which dangled some of Jonah`s outerwear.

Two oak dressers were pleasantly placed under artwork with a woodland scheme. The windows had long drapes that puddled on the floor, done in a dark green and cobalt pattern to match the duvet. I stood on a huge round area rug that was hunter green with flecks of gold and rust. The room was masculine, rustic, and vastly appealing because of its manly vibe.

                “Will it do?” he asked, still clasping my hand. I nodded dreamily. “You can still say no,” Jonah said, tipping his head to the left. I shook my head. “You didn`t lose the power of speech did you?” the man inquired. Again, I shook my head.

“No, I was just stunned at how beautiful this room – this lodge is,” I told him. He squeezed my hand.
“You`ve only seen this room and the living room,” he pointed out, reaching around me to push the door closed. The latch clicking caused my skin to prickle in anticipation.

“You want to give me the grand tour?” I asked.

“Later,” he said, pulling me into his chest. He lifted my hair from my neck and placed his lips under my ear. “You don`t want to sight-see now, do you?”

I wiggled in his firm embrace, rubbing myself against him. “Not really,” I groaned when his teeth nibbled a path to my collarbone.

                “Good.” His words vibrated into my ear. I arched against him. He left my ear to claim my mouth. The kiss was hot and wet: a vibrant and erotic display of how he planned to love me. Slowly at first, with gentle caresses, then faster and rougher, hands gripping and fingers clawing. Our clothes were shed quickly, without care for buttons or snaps. Jonah slid his hands down my bare ribs as he suckled my neck like a vampire fresh from the coffin. His leg slid between mine. I asked him to hurry. The man spun us around smoothly, his hands now lifting me upward. I wrapped myself around him like a wanton vine embraces a lamppost. The goose-down mattress enveloped us when we fell into it. The air left my lungs in a rush when he landed on me.

                “Sorry,” he muttered into my mouth, kissing his way across my jaw then downward, stopping to taste the hollow of my neck.

                “Don`t be.” I held him close, intoxicated by the weight of him pressing me downward. His hair streamed over my face and shoulders as he made his way to my breasts. His tongue found a nipple. My back bowed as my fingers dug into his wide shoulders. He toyed and teased, flicking and nuzzling until I was begging. His mouth was warm and wet. I writhed wildly under him, arching my back to give him more, rubbing my foot up the back of his thick thigh, running my palms over his back, arms, sides, and tight ass. The feel of hard muscle flexing and contracting under his skin as he moved made me mad with want.

                Jonah released one peak then rose up to taste my mouth before moving onto the other breast. He slid to the side. I groaned at the loss of his body flattened against mine. Then his hand danced down my ribs and over my pelvic bone. I stopped bemoaning the heat of his chest when his fingers slid through sodden gold curls. My knees fell apart. Jonah made a sound like a Kodiak bear. His name bounced around the bedroom in a woman`s heated exhalation that I realized only after a second had passed was mine. His fingers were already slick as they slid into me, one then two and then three. His thumb stroked my clitoris one single time. That was all it took. I blew apart like a dandelion blow in a hot summer wind.

                 I could feel his eyes on me as he brought me into a convulsing frenzy with just his fingers. The orgasm ran on and on, each rotation of his fingers deep inside me combined with the sweep of his calloused thumb began another tsunami of breathless pleas for more while I threw sheets and pillows around like a crazed woman.

                “You looked just as beautiful as I knew you would,” he purred like the puma whose claws dangled from his corded neck. I made some sort of sound that slid off into nothingness when he left me for a moment.

                “Jonah . . . God . . .”

                “Yeah, I know,” he told me, quickly tearing open then rolling the condom over himself. I welcomed him back enthusiastically, locking my arms and legs around him. He slid into me slowly, his brow resting on mine as my body stretched to accommodate him. Our soft sighs intertwined. I wanted to say something profound as I`m known to at times.

                “Jonah?” I gasped as he began moving within me.

“Hmm?” he said. His dark eyes found mine.

“I got nothing,” I moaned. He chuckled then pulled out until I feared he would leave me then he thrust deeply, all the while staring at me with burning eyes. I threw my head back and gave up on talking.

“Look at me,” he ground out a few moments later. I couldn`t think or speak. He was moving so quickly and so forcefully now my hands were over my head to protect my skull from the log headboard. My eyes flickered open. “I want to see you leave your body.”

He didn`t have to wait long to see me fly away. The next orgasm blew me to tiny bits like a mirror hit with a mallet. I heard myself panting his name. Jonah buried himself in me, letting my internal convulsions pull him over the top. I watched him in fascination. Teeth bared, neck corded, shoulder muscles and biceps twitching and flowing as he tried to get as deep as he could. He was breathtakingly beautiful and ruggedly masculine in his release. When the worst of the tempest was past I reached up to push damp hair from his cheeks. He smiled awkwardly, balanced above me as he was.

“I love you,” I whispered, cupping his sweaty cheek with my palm. He lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me with such passion I feared I might weep.

“That is music to my ears,” he whispered breathlessly over my lips. “Gano: da.” He kissed me once more, rolling to the side and pulling me with him, the blankets barely covering our flushed skin. “Night song,” he huskily explained the Seneca term before I even asked. “I want you to sing about your love for me every time we share a bed.”

I was fully prepared to sing those lines to him every night from here on out. For now though, I was content to lay here in his arms and listen to the strong wind wuthering through the white birch.