An Education Part 10 - An Erotic Story

Part 10 of 12

We went home immediately after Tess had finished her confession. I had forgiven her (of course I had! How could I have not?!). “You have compensated me with your account of the events relating to your transgression. Well... almost. Perhaps you can do a bit more compensating in the lines of what you have just been describing. I mean, enough stories, I strongly believe we shouldn't dally and go home,' I told her.
She still laughed when we were outside. Tess had a contagious laugh that was warm and generous.

'Hey,' I said, 'I suddenly realize that you were on your way to see that woman.'
Tess's smile disappeared. 'You finally figured out why I'm dressed like this,' she spoke gloomily.
'Well, hey,' I said, 'Now you are dressed like this for me! I accept this magnificent offering in gratitude and will rejoice!'

couples cuddling in bed
'You mock me.'
'Ah, come on. Let's make merriment. Let's make love.'
'You want me, don't you?' she said, showing an expression that was somewhere between hope, relief, and drunkenness.
'Yes, yes, yes. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I want to fuck.'
'You really have a way with words, don't you?'
'Not always, I have to admit. But I want to have my way with you.'
'No, it's not possible if you are so rude. You will have to improve your language, Basilio!'
'But there is something much older than language. Much older and much more urgent.'
'Are you now going to add: and much deeper?'
'Oh, yes, undoubtedly.'


Ah, that laugh! Seeing her like that I felt a strange whirring sensation in my guts. And also a feeling akin to that of sunlight on my skin after weeks of cold rain.
We disgracefully neglected the taxi-driver.
At this point in a story, most notably in movies and tv-shows, the two lovers would get home, a short scene in which kissing, cuddling, and undressing would be shown and that would be it. But were we ever to truly wish to understand the protagonists of the stories we encounter, we must know the most important things
about them. And what can be more important than sex?
If you really get to know Tess, you will know how she bites ever so gently on lips, several times on the upper and several times on the lower, when she kisses you. You will know the sweet soft grunts she makes while doing so. You will see her eyes change, the pupils dilating, her facial features straining. You will see her transform into an unbelievable entity. You will admire her tight waste; her limbs, finely carved like Canova's marble. You will hear her purr. You will see her squirm and squiggle, squint and wiggle.

You will answer her questions with 'yes' or 'yes please!'.
To which I added: 'just like that. Continue like that.' When she took my cock in her mouth. It was like experiencing the phase and amplitude of the tide; I felt ebb and flood flow through me. Moon and sun, silver and gold, gold and silver, moon and sun. I held her red-hot cheeks between my hands.
Then she lay on her back, opened her legs and drew me into her. The tidal waves came and receded. Heat emanated from the center of her body as her vaginal muscles contracted around my dick. She bent double as I bent forward to kiss her; she grabbed my neck between her ankles and pulled me into her. She made sounds that held the middle between humming and crying. I was feeling high, ascending steeply.

When I closed my eyes it was as if I was scaling a mountain and could hear cries of happiness coming from the village fair in the valley.
I turned her over and she lifted her ass up, round and fair like sand dunes.
She begged me for no remorse, so I pounded her like a storm.
She turned her head as far as she could and looked at me from the sides of her eyes. Ah, her eyes! They were wet and fiery at the same time. Mascara dripped down her right cheek.

Those who are versed in the ways of love are well-aware that there is a secret cave adjacent to the temple of Venus, and that this is a place where the lover can find much ecstasy. As I embarked on my quest for ecstasy I heard a voice from beneath speak: 'do it! Do it, but you know what you can not return now.'
I did not need to return, because I found plenty of ecstasy right there, in that most excellent cave. After the storm subsided the cave was flooded.
When she came back from the bathroom she said: 'Basilio, you know how stars rise and fall over time?'
'Ehm, not sure...'
'It's called precession: that's when ages change and empires come and go as stars rise and fall. It's an endless cycle through time, an endless cycle of rising and falling. It was as if I was feeling that right now. I felt eternal.'
'Wow, that beats my tidal waves!' I laughed.
'Eternity, eternity....' Tess hummed.
'Hey, think we ought to continue this cycle,' I said as I rolled towards her and began to stroke her belly and the areas around her breasts with my fingertips.

making out in bed



'Do you have another cycle in you?' she laughed.
'Oh baby, I have many cycles. I am precession made flesh.'
This time we made love slow and gentle. While first, we were storms and waves, we were now anemones and seahorses. We were gentle creatures, effortlessly swimming upstream. And from there we evolved into a being that was both male and female, and then into a being that was neither – beyond all of that. Gently rising up like an air-balloon.

The next cycle was even more violent than the first one. We made muscles, walls, the bed and perhaps even our neighbors tremble. After that tempest, I was heaving and gasping for breath like an athlete who's shown complete disregard for his own limits. But an ice-cold can of soda worked wonders.

More cycles followed that night – five to be precise. It was the night that set a benchmark in our lives; a gold standard, something so precious compared to anything else that I had experienced that I wondered: 'Do we love to make life, or do we live to make love?'

WRITTEN BY

Basilio Valentino

ILLUSTRATIONS BY:

Floris Pieterse

Floris is a Dutch illustrator, storyboard and comic artist based in Amsterdam.
Follow him on Instagram @florispieterse

Read other Chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

More from Basilio:

A Pythagorean Tryst
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