1. Parallel lives


    Date: 8/15/2016, Categories: Love Stories, Author: Alexandra_A, Rating: 7, Source: LushStories

    leapt from their benches and clattered onto the naked boards. Dust fell from the vaulted ceiling. A loose tile slid across its still-clinging brothers. In my mind, I saw it leap the gutter, spin into space and shatter on the glistening cobbles below. Windows rattled. Like a gunshot, a pane broke. In disbelief, I carefully turned my head around in time to witness its sister's similar demise. Despite the chaos that surrounded me, I focussed all my waning energy on keeping myself exactly aligned, precisely positioned, the living part of a heinous mechanical hybrid, a diabolical creature built for a single obscene purpose. And then it began. Somewhere between where his bulbous head punched my sorry cervix and where my erect clitoris poked rudely from my glistening folds. Pleasure. Pain. Ecstasy. Agony. Wonder. Dread. Perfection. Corruption. Like the ceaselessly shifting parallelogram at the centre of my incredible invention, emotions, sensations, transmuted, cycled, hid and showed themselves; yet, unlike my invention's regulated constancy, they fed back, intensified, expanded, abounded, till my ruined body could barely contain them. A new sound filled the room. A cry. A wail. It was unearthly. Inhuman. It was unstoppable. Unbearable. Impossible. It was me. The sound was me. Besides the indescribable pleasure and the unimaginable pain, it appeared it was all that was left of me. By degrees, I became aware once more of the room. The dust. The noise. The sweat. The clammy cold. And ...
    still Hercules effortlessly, relentlessly, penetrated my squelching, battered loins till again I drowned in blissful rapture. Over and over, the pleasure grew, blossomed and burst, blossomed and burst, till I was insensible, clinging to sanity, on the very edge of consciousness. Through the tears that at some point had obscured my eyes, I saw him. Though I could barely make out his face, his posture was unmistakeable. His distraught voice only added to the certainty. His disbelief, his obvious disgust, quickly sobered me, shamed and mortified me. As the spring finally unfurled and the machine breathed it's last, I covered my sorry face. 'James! Don't look! Please! Don't look!' I expected shouting, screaming, hurtful remonstrations, followed by a slamming door, yet none were forthcoming. Head bowed, he swiftly stepped forwards and snatched me from my lover's embrace, hugged me to his shaking frame and wept uncontrollably into my matted hair. 'Oh, Jane! Jane! I am sorry! So sorry...' He kissed my forehead, grasped my chin and tried in vain to turn my face towards his. I resisted, though at his continued insistence I relented, yet still could not look him in the eye. 'Brother, brother, what must you think of me? What must you think? Forgive me, I beg of you!' He stilled my lips with a flat fat finger and whispered so quietly I could barely hear him. 'No, dear sister, it is I who begs forgiveness.' My wide incredulous eyes demanded an explanation. He was immediately forthcoming. ...
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