The Reliability of Desire

Later that evening, when Persephone is alone, she allows herself a sex fantasy with Ned in the co-starring role ... that he falls over her thoughtlessly, half-dazed of this madness. Her clothes are on the floor faster and more carelessly than she likes. She would like to put herself on display for him, present herself to him, offer him her excellence. God has blessed her with large breasts and a firm bottom. She doesn't have to hide anything. She can show off her entire being. She likes to show herself in sexy lingerie and glasses. She could then make love to herself out of sheer self-love. But Ned doesn't give her any leeway.

She could stop him and yet she feels too guilty about the deep pain she has touched him with forcing him to gaze in the dark mirror. She lets him have his way. His teeth dig into her neck. His hands are firmly on her breasts. His tongue craves her belly. He wets the hollow of her navel. He takes possession. His fingers already between her thighs. The wave of ordinary arousal rolls over her as he pauses.

"Persephone."

He props himself up, his face inches from hers.

"Sex is the sacred song of the soul; sex is the sanctuary of Self."

And again, Alistair Crowley.

A dangerous man whose thoughts and works should not be treated with complacency. Especially not in bed. Is there anything more dangerous than mixing eroticism and spirituality? "Will you lead me into your sanctuary? Will you sing for me?"There they are, the words that strike her deeply. There it is, his strong male presence. The offer of a genuine connection, of a touch that goes deeper than any previous experience.Her hand touches his cock, the strength of his arousal hits him like a squall. But he stands firm. Just a few touches and she unrolls the condom with her free hand. He is not surprised, as he knew that the intensity of her femininity could only come from an unimpaired body with a real cycle.

"I will sing for you. Will you answer me when I call? Will this be our duet?"

He nods, even though it takes everything he has not to ram her like a madman until he has satisfied himself. But that's not what they're looking for. Now it is she again who leads him. His cock penetrates deep inside her. Her view hold his view. The movements are painfully slow, Persephone sets the rhythm, he continues.He can feel it building up inside her, because of the long, intense movement within her. It builds up like the singing of a choir in church, barely perceptible at first, then a strong crescendo. And she begins, in a soft singsong.

"I need you".

He doesn't lose himself, even though he's almost losing everything.

"You have me."

"I desire you," the syllable runs from her lips, the answer promptly: "I burn for you."

The words in rhythm with his slow, deep thrusts, each thrust the answer to a thousand of her questions.

"I want your soul. Your body. Your cock."

He counters.

"I want your whole existence, your whole being, every fiber of your flesh.

"His thrusting becomes harder, more urgent, a wrinkle of anger appears above his intensely glowing gaze. She gives up, herself and all of her resistance.

Persephone knows exactly how to make Ned forget his self-control and master glory. We'll tell you about that elsewhere. Just this much. Finally, Persephone begs: "Ned, please cum all over me."

Ned is satisfied, dusky, he has achieved the average male goal. Persephone, on the other hand, lies in his arms, deeply disturbed. She has told him too much, she knows that. She has given herself away in total surrender. That's the core of her desire. She wants to give herself completely.

But that is precisely what she is not allowed to do.

Now she has to manage to appear calm. Independent. The inevitable follows quickly as Ned announced in sleepy casualness:

"I have an early seminar tomorrow, beautiful; and I really can't show up there in the same shirt as today and without my manuscript."

Errors on the Erotic Keyboard

Persephone hates the loveless term of endearment, but she fights like a madwoman to keep a stoic expression on her face. And wins.

"Of course."

She stands up, throws the silky robe over her.

"I can well understand that."

She even forces herself to smile. Maybe he sees something beneath her controlled surface. Maybe he doesn't want to see her anymore. Ned lets something slip from a clarity and hardness that he otherwise skillfully conceals:

"You know my full name, little witch, and you can emphasize it perfectly. I'm afraid you can summon me any time now."

In the next scene, Persephone lies on the carpet, crying, deeply needy. The pain of separation is tearing her apart. She wants to call Ned back, she wishes he had stayed with her. But there is pride too; she didn't hold him back. She didn't even hint that he should stay. Her expression remained firm.

Persephone returns from her dark thoughts. She masturbates again and comes easily.