South
South
by Korpse_Infested_Karnival
(KIK)
_(Author's Note: All there is in this short vanilla is a piece of myself, in a sense. Nothing here but a silent catalyst of what is and what can be.
-KIK)_
You want to hold many things. Tenderly and gently, all of it so sweetly. All of her. Nip and caress, to embrace and feel, never let it escape. Absorb every detail and groove, fall along the lines with precision, let the eyes wander upon tufts of cream and autumn brown. Each breath another hymn in this sonata, each whimper, grunt, and moan a lyric to the song. The pace so beautiful, the feeling so ineffable. Find yourself, lost, without reason or understanding, caught in the oceans of ecstasy, clenching tight the mechanisms of the heart.
He doesn't forget, doesn't lose it. Jericho always knows and remembers. He loves her dearly. He cannot help it. She is the myth and the obsession, his shame and pride, his love and his pain. He can't breathe too quickly, nor speak her name loudly, that's how tender it is, this whole thing. It must be spoken with care, must be kept from breaking, so easy to tear the whole tapestry. In some ways, it feels to be a vaporous dream, a rumor untrue yet alive in all the physical.
Dakota. Dakota Willows. Those are the two words he dares not forget, that never vanish from young Jericho's conscious. His sweet collie, that girl of the southern fall, vibrant with her shades of earth and snow, peering at him in the distance with her blue eyes. Eyes that are the sky, painted with the oceans tears, the sky's momentum, the babbling little creeks and rivers. And those eyes, they are his now, she gives them away, allows Jericho to make them his own, her silent, kissing promise that she'll never leave, that she is in fact tangible and not a false hope.
That was why, on this day of all times, it felt so crucial and important. Jericho's breath was caught in such a fever pitch, his heart a hurting, nervous drum that bantered rapidly. His legs were not still, only moving and constant, his hands clasped together and mixing palm with finger. The seedy green iris' pieced carefully in the frame of his head watched things with such an intense observance, as if even the tiniest speck of dust bloom with a volcanic luminosity, all made possible with the notion of Dakota in his thinking.
She was on her way, coming home, coming home from a long time of being away. Out somewhere, in the north, far past the gates of Georgia, for the betterment of herself, something Jericho had always supported. Though in the same, a secret, swelling paranoia resided there as well, the worry, the concept, the nightmare that perhaps he would lose her, if she flew so far. But nay, now she was returning, back from the cold and the rain, like a light breaching the summer southern skies with her return.
Jericho had awaited this date for such a time, such a duration. That was why when a small noise, on the outside of their home, a click, a metallic crunch of sorts, made his tongue go dry and throat feel thick and sour.
When the door itself fidgeted and buckled, he was nearly still, almost in disbelief, only realizing that he had to move his legs, had to get there, at the threshold of oaken lumber. Palms, not hot nor cold nor sweaty, simply numb, grasped the brass knob yanked the door open, searing, blanched light encroaching the slight dim of their living room with frantic ease. And there, as an angel from the sky, she stood, as beautiful as ever, the golden eye above catching her fur in the most tremendous of shades, sweet collie ears and eyes at full attention.
"Jericho. . ." she breathed, lightly and whisperingly, abruptly crashing forward and launching her arms around him. The youthful human did little to resist, returning it as hard as he could, suddenly explosive with passion and waves of heavenly delight as the warmth soak of her body and silken fur drew blood to every neuron cluster in his frame.
She giggled and laughed, Jericho chuckled and hugged, lifting his dear collie from the ground and kissing her tenderly, to her neck, her cheeks, the brush-side of her muzzle. And the eyes. They returned to him. Cerulean met fields of jade, and that comforting, absorbing and calming notion was back, engulfing and sweeping in all its ways. Frantically they remained hugging and holding, forgetting time and reality, locked only in all that was trust and passion.
Jericho whispered, muttered, cried and cooed his feelings for the past month, and Dakota, she accepted and took those things, those fears and cast them aside, with small "I know,"s and "It's okay,"s. Slowly but without certainty, in all his speaking, he brought her inside, inside their home, where they dreamed of family and futures.
Onto the couch of cheap red velvet they sat, Jericho still caught in Dakota's adoring paw-hands, gripped by her presence as he had been that one, sweltering night at Stone Mountain. They had to talk now, ask their queries and snuff out any misconception or little nagging nightmare that still resided. All were quickly dispatched with. There was nothing now, nothing but the two in the perfection of their reunion, so arduous the month had made it for them.
"How was it?" Jericho would ask, face lit with wonder all the same.
She would respond with a gentle "Fine," clearly uninterested in the time gone, only there for her love, to want and to give.
Indeed, there was something else there as well, that potent, youthful flame that always exist as two passions burn together. Brightly as the rising south sun were they hungry for the other, seething with a sensual voracity they'd yearned for. The natural libido was making its comeback, and it wouldn't be long until love suspended everything else, craving and crying from the pit of their bodies.
That musk you see, that natural scent of crushed pine and fresh, spring breezes Jericho had missed quite a great deal, and its familiarity to his nostrils began to have quite the effect. Curvaceous and bountiful all ready was Dakota's figure, but her smell truly drove him wild, like a wild girl from the Georgia forests dared to make love with him. At the trail of her delightful scent also wavered an electric, thundering heat, a silent beckoning that was slowly but surely gnawing at young Jericho's reason.
Yet on the couch they still remained, Dakota wagging her tail happily, irregardless of her misted eyes and blushing cheeks, the slight pant beginning to overwhelm her breathing. At the same time, her natural canine femininity was picking up on all the male human cues of arousal too, noting the subtle pheromone release and increasing heartbeat within young Jericho's chest, even more so than his encountered chest hammering.
If not now, when, when? How long did they have to hold off? How long did they need to abate their lusts and love?
"Dakota," again, Jericho whispered, rubbing one of her dear collie cheeks with his palm, the touch ushered by half closed eyelids, meek female encouragement.
The name, once more, in his mine, it had to be repeated, over and over until he was sure he would never lose it. Then, so closely did Dakota bring her muzzle to his lips, applying a little lick, a soft lick, her perfectly canine kiss still unique unto her own. A passionate lock pursued, not too quickly or hastily, as all good things had to be absorbed slowly and lovingly. Yet still, they committed, as wide pink tongue met smaller human flesh, black muzzle lips gracing over cheek, whiskers scratching the layer of soft skin.
What remained now, all except the tethers, the clothing that binded the two with the material world. Off, they had to be, away, now, now, for the simmering and steadfast yearning within them became all but unbearable. Carefully and quickly, Jericho thumbed at his shirt and eventually pulled it off, the same for his trousers and boxers, sending them in an off direction, gaze affixed to his dear Dakota. To his bareness, she planted a kiss on his neck, and then his chest, soft paw-hands roaming over his torso with delight, as she began to repeat his actions, heavy breaths now assuming control over her once timid panting.
Oh, to watch the white flannel shirt be pulled from her frame, the curvy sides to her womanly body now once again available for young Jericho to behold. Her legs, hips, and incredible thighs, how they once again swerved into observation, only guarded by her frail silken panties, and her bosom only held by her snowy hued bra. The heat, young Jericho missed this too, as even from her distance, as he laid back on the couch, he remembered her warmth, her tender sighs, all those little secrets he explored and discovered in their throws of passion.
She only held off momentarily from him, before sliding off her jeans. Simply so, she crawled to him, sauntered to him, resting hand-paw on couch as well as her sweet collie knees, still waggling her tail, admiring her human mate with the sea-scape of her blue iris'. Smiled did Dakota, a ringing, wonderful smile, and oh how Jericho did treasure it, miss it, yearn for it once again.
Her body so very exposed now, it took little time for young Jericho to become erect, his member throbbing with flushes of blood. His body, nor his mind, could help it, for the female collie was so beautiful, so luxurious in her girlish yet mature figure. Carefully, she sauntered to him, carefully she played her teasing role, all the while admiring the nude form of her love.
Near him she was now, at his loins, placing a few wet, warm licks on the length of his shaft, just a tease, a mild notion, to keep his hunger ignited. Young Jericho could only gasp, react and go rigid at the slightest brush of her tongue, spasm of neuron pleasure exploding at every centimeter she touched.
She toyed with him in her mild collie ways, eventually, so tediously and cautiously, removing her bra to let her healthily sized teardrop mounds bounce and be free, as Jericho's hands went to her sides, caressing the ridges and grooves in her fur.
"I still miss you," he muttered lowly, as if it was all, still in practice, a dream, only to be reassured by Dakota's loving touches and trembles. Paw hands on bare chest, she rubbed him several times, before mounting him, doing away with the clip straps to her cream-colored panties.
That tender, so long gone binding of the two was suddenly and abruptly returning, all in one immense, beautiful crashing wave, a blinding sunlight in a dull gray haze. A moistened strip of flesh that was like seething, wet velvet barely graced the outer skin to Jericho's mast, causing him to shudder. It had been a while, since that chalice of delectable female essence had neared his loins, and the feeling was as enrapturing as ever.
He watched her adoringly as Dakota steadily raised herself, the delicate glistening of her snatch slightly visible in the tufts of her pubic fur, young Jericho's hands going to her thighs and latching on comfortably. Gentle fingers wrapped around the youth's shaft, holding it in place, as the wondrous collie tediously lowered her hips, nether region accepting her lover's heated pike with a welcoming embrace of silky fire.
Jericho's body flooded with a storm of hormone-driven delight, shockwaves of energy racketing his frame with the enveloping of his member. How he had yearned for it, this sensation again, this love, this healing to his heart, here in the heart of Georgia. Gasping and breathing, moaning and panting, Dakota let her pinkish doggy tongue hang out as her ripe buttocks bobbed and thrust upon Jericho's genital, womanhood and manhood clashing together in waves of endearing compassion.
"Oh. . . J-Jericho. . ." stammered the collie femme, face and softened muzzle features full a fluster with heat, her womanly axis bouncing so freely at gravity's ploys. Jericho himself could not respond, dared not, for again, he was alive, with his mate, combined they were into a singular, writhing being, the missing pieces finally clicking together.
In this union, there were no letters of escape, no words of pain, no threads of dissent to be sown betwixt them, only that masterful yet fragile creation, love. It was as if they were back on the hills in the grasp of summer's thick breezes, Dakota riding her companion for the first time, virgins falling for the other. No longer alone or far away, but brought together, strange things overlooked as the old southern ways would have seen it.
It all came back, finally, fully, in completion. Dakota wrapped herself tightly around her human partner, still riding him with each swift motion she could muster, lower nest dripping with opaque rivers of their juices, mixing and mingling as two obsessive creatures could only manage. Though many words were absent, they had echoed and grunted their feelings and physical gyrations, the falling of thighs and the thrusting of hips.
Shh. We have to leave them now, you see, let them be in their own rapture, let them hold and touch and fondle and give. Leave with quiet steps, because we dare not interrupt what they have and what is created betwixt them, for love, that word, is such a fragile dimension, such a breakable element.
Even here their cries are audible, the motions visible. Even here, in the south, there are lights that cut through the gray, and where intolerance and sects of hate are disregarded, as perhaps, so many things should be.
So many things, even in the south.
_Speak loudly, and you will lose it
Like all things it starts to fade
The old wheat painting on the wall
That's where it fades, where it's always quiet_
= END =
(KIK)
- Josh Groban, You're Still You -