Chapter 24 Obsessive
Obsessive
Ever since that day on the stairs, he’s been obsessed with my pleasure between my legs.
I catch him staring at me more, almost drooling if I’m bending over.
Lir has eaten the forbidden fruit and he only wants more and more.
I can’t believe I used to bathe in front of him before thinking he had no desires.
It rained last night, so today is bath day and I’m flushed considering the possibilities, but if I don't want to bathe with him he’ll know something is wrong.
How can I tell him nothing’s wrong, but that I’m just so insanely embarrassed having my body fawned over constantly like this.
Pulling out my hair, overthinking it all—I finally come to a compromise by just doing the damn thing.
I bring out a towel and pull out the rain barrel buggy. Lir washes his face and wipes down what’s left of his small wounds, I hope none of them still hurt. Crawling into the tide pool with him, I help itch and wash his back making sure to gently scrub any scabbed scratches left.
He winces a little, ”I never knew how much salt water could burn until I was so battered that night.
” He looks back over his shoulder through his dark lashes.
“I also never knew humans could be so kind though.” I ready my retort, but then Lir grabs my face.
“Or so ticklish.” He flutters those lashes against my cheek causing me to giggle.
Leaning over the edge of the pool, I reach for more fresh water for our washcloth, but as I stretch out I feel Lir’s hands raising up my hips so I can crawl forward a bit more.
He’s always so sweet and helpful—I’d think he is at least. That is until I try to reach forward to the spout, but his hands pull my hips back.
His kindness was actually only to lure me into his trap once again.
I feel his mouth kissing the inside of the back of my thighs.
His voice growls muffled behind me. “You’re so delicious.”
I roll my eyes and roll my hips back into him.
Stuck kneeling on the edge of the rocks, I’m on full display for him to explore in his new fascination.
He spreads open my most tender parts, already swollen and begging for his touch.
My cheek rubs down into the warmed rocks, fully submitting to my capture.
He focuses in on my most sensitive places, consuming me so fully that I can think of nothing else except for the shapes his tongue carves into me.
I’m still sensitive from our last session, my knees would be too if he didn't insist on licking away any bruises.
I squirm trying to arch my back, but he bears down hard causing my body to fold under his strong arms. Like an animal caught in a trap I cry out, unable to free myself from his all encompassing mouth.
I kneel devoted to pleasure as Lir prays at my alter of flesh, a true disciple to my quaking womb.
I can feel every hymn he is writing into my soul through the delicate folds he worships.
I whimper pressed into the rocks, their earthy smell mixing with our radiating musks to compound into the most delightfully complex perfume.
Inhaling through my mouth, I can taste that airborne elixir and dig my hands into the unyielding earth.
Grappling against the hard basalt, I try to find hand-holds and grips to crimp my own desperate claws into.
Lir continues to feast on his meal, his godly ambrosia that I give up my body for, the sacrifice that he diligently cleans his plate of.
I cry out, shaking profusely in my false agony.
I think I will crumple down, but Lir’s large hand reaches up cradling the space just between my womb and my navel.
Lowering me gently down into the safety of his arms as he collapses over me.
His head nestles into the small of my back, where he kisses my name into that shallow space.
Eventually he draws back, pulling apart my thighs as well to hold them up gently to inspect his work.
Lir smiles proudly at our pink pulsating masterpiece, dripping my nectar into the pool below.
I look back at him flushed and mouth gaping, acting like I’m the one who is half fish.
I try to catch my breath as he reaches and dampens another towel and cleans up my raw drenched slit.
It sends a convulsive shiver down my spine, to be devoured and anointed all in one smooth motion.
Over and over, I find myself in these compromising positions on my rock—which was supposed to be my tower of isolation, my personal prison sentence of chastity has become waves of pleasure crashing against the walls I had put up so long ago.
Every small interaction has become a possibility for his way of showing me his love and admiration.
Not just in the way he has constantly found ways to end up face first between my legs, but also in just our small every day moments.
I never realized how lonely I had been while still a wife until now. I thought I loved my husband in my young naive heart, but how much can one feel loved by someone gone seven months of the year and in the bar the other five?
On land there’s a system of things, marriage, often without love; and then sex—also without love. Just going through the motions hoping to eventually be loved.
I think more than Eli specifically, I wanted a family and when he was gone that dream died too.
He also, more than me, wanted the benefits that a wife provides.
We both used each other I suppose in some way, but I would dream that one day my husband would come back and things would be different, that he’d run towards me, looking at me like he’d never seen anything prettier and I would have finally be worthy, and in that moment I’d have known that we would’ve been happy forever—
But, Eli hardly came home, and when he did it was a dry bed to sleep that just happened to have me within it. I wasn’t his home, instead just a convenient piece of furniture that resided within it.
Then, when that day came that he didn't come home, that he would never come home again…it’s horrible to say, did I miss my husband?
Or did I miss him the way an old house misses having a family once sheets thrown up over all the furniture and dust collects in all the nooks and crannies.
I had shut the shudders tight and had closed myself up from the abandonment of love that never really filled me at all.
Yet, here with Lir, there are no motions I could predict, no formulaic outcome I must follow as a lady to win his favor. Perhaps—just to be me, is to be loved.