Spinning Right Round: Chapter 5
Miles rolled under her, sometimes rubber on road, sometimes steel on steel, sometimes buoyed in the air. Fresh mountain air and the rhythmic click-thump of poured concrete now as she drove from this town to that researching the smallest clue. From defunct traveling fair to ancient hidden carousel rotting away in a warehouse. She traced dust and cobwebs covering painted creatures, the lines of their muscles frozen in time. Exactly the way she didn't remember muscles rippling under her touch as they took their pleasure from her, her body giving them her own. She interviewed people who remembered the traveling fair, ferreting out information, convincing and cajoling others who knew how at a bit more until the leads trickled off or led her to another decaying hulk of a once beautiful machine. More miles under her, windows rolled down, wind buffeting her body, in her hair.
The door opened silently, massive and windowed revealing a tall, old man. Grey but unbent by time. She explained her quest without the sordid details and he bent to look at the brass ring against her throat. Normally she'd hand them the necklace, letting them inspect the engraving as it dangled before them but now, for some reason, she let him see it against her flesh. Against the hollow of her throat and the pounding of her pulse. He pressed against it with the last three fingers of his hand, head bent toward her, almost intimately fitting into the space where her neck and shoulder met.
He slowly straightened and said,
"I've seen these before but they weren't at my machine. I'm sorry I can't help, but you are more than welcome to join us for lunch. It's almost on the table."
He turned and beckoned her over the threshold into the house. Leading her through the foyer, past bookshelves and curios, explaining the house as they went, the provenance of each piece. As she followed him to the kitchen she caught a glimpse of them both in a large mirror and glanced at him quickly. The reflection showed the same man, still unbent but hair ungreyed, lines erased from his face, years rolled back. Her quick glance ahead showed him to be still grey, wrinkles from easy laughter crossing his face. By then they were past the mirror and opening the kitchen door. A platter sat on the island, piled with wedges of sandwiches.
He gestured almost sheepishly, "It's not much, but it is a bite."
She gratefully took a sandwich and nibbled a corner. Travel was tiring, hungry work and sometimes simplicity was the best. Water and ice clinked brightly in her glass as they talked about what he knew.
"I did. I played the calliope in the center while the animals and people danced and writhed around me. Whirling faster and faster the laughter and the screams surrounded me. The animals seemed to spring to life, the brass poles and the clockwork disappearing until they pressed against their riders, independent of the machine. As alive and breathing as you and I."
He sat at a piano and began to play, one note high on the keys repeatedly, after a few measures joined by a lower note at different intervals, then sparse chords, first with one hand then both until music filled the room. Booming from the piano, swelling and filling, first the entire room then the whole house. Roaring and cascading through their ears, through their bodies. Rising and rising until silence and then finally the single note like drops of water cutting through the silence. Crystal drops of water falling into a cavern pool, the only movement that it has ever known.
He turned, almost shyly, toward her. "Something like that. It's not from me, it's something beyond me. Bigger and far more frightening. Beyond my control or even my input. Channeling through me, through my fingers, through my body. Thank you for making me remember how it felt."
"Do you have any memorabilia?"
He paused for a moment. "I do. In the next room." He stood slowly and walked through a doorway with her on his heels.
In a corner stood a red horse, eyes wide, nostrils flared, with a twisted bronze pole piercing it's back and extending through its belly. A large bronze mount has been added at the bottom to keep it upright. The paint was as bright as it had been the day it was made and the creature was free from dust. The foreleg closest to her was raised and she ran her hand down the animals shoulder over its flank and across its hip. The sculptor must have have known horses.Its musculature and skeleton were laid out beautifully. She could almost feel the muscles ripple under her touch. She moved to the face, gazing at the painted eye, where long lashes would be and ran her hand along the big jaw, hand curling around it. She needed to feel the large muscles, the power it could generate.
She almost jumped. She had forgotten the man was there. Lost in her nearly perverse thoughts.
Instead, voice cooly belying the heat she felt in her cheeks, in her core, "He is. He's a beautiful specimen. How long long have you had him?"
The horse's dark eye seemed to follow her as she stepped back to the horse's flank. This time her belly and hips pressed against the swell. She stroked his back and the roundness of his haunch. Her hand ran down the curve of the haunch and under the horse's belly. She felt heat, against her hand, her body against the horse and her face pressed tightly to the join of the animals hip and belly. It felt smooth, not the smooth of a hard sculpture but the sleek smooth of a living, breathing creature. Her hand found the swell of its sheath hanging down, soft and delicate, the tremendous bulk of its balls. Her insides quivered uncontrollably, as though shivering from cold but instead with excitement. Trembling from inside out. She wanted her face pressed where her hand was, against that animal heat, breathing in the scent, mouth against that impossibly velvety covering. The belly rose and fell above her now. Hard sculpture becoming living, hungry, needy flesh.
How the other creatures had changed on the carousel, bits of them coming to life first, seeming to fade from carved wood to hot, supple skin. Then all in a rush, the entire beast springing to life, panting chests, wide pink tongues. Her body serving one then another, being served as she came uncontrollably on cock after cock, tasting other riders pleasure on them, feeling it on their cocks and tentacles, knowing they had been buried in another body just moments ago.
She fell on the beast before her, mouth on its belly, its soft sheath like velvet on her face as she pressed against it, hands cupping impossibly heavy balls, her mouth on those now, kissing, sucking, lapping. Its cock growing with her need, pressing it against its belly, first with one hand, then as it grew, with two. Precome rushing out as it thrust, coating its belly, her and falling to the floor great, wet spurts.
Her mouth on it now, kissing and sucking up and down the exposed shaft, balls to the broad, flat tip, pressing her cheek against it then her open mouth, trying to get it all inside but she couldn't. One side of it to the next, all that mattered was keeping her mouth over its cockhole, driving her tongue inside like a little pussy, sweet and salty. Sucking at whatever part of its head she could fit inside her mouth. Huge haunches thrusting it forward.
The keeper led the beast by its halter to a padded table and she, unwilling to have it out of her mouth for even a moment shuffled along underside it. Her pussy dripped, long strands on her slick connected her lips and her thighs, dripping from her. Her fingers finding it, dipping inside and smearing herself on that long veined cock so she could taste herself on it. She kept her mouth on it as long as she could but finally crept between the table and the belly of the beast, spreading her legs around it. She rubbed the flat tipped cock against her opening, swollen lips against swollen head. She could feel a pulse there but couldn't be sure if it was hers or not.
She has taken fists before, watching her lover's faces change as they slipped inside her. It was always the same with men or women, surprise then awe then hunger flashing across them in rapid succession. Eyes widening, then narrowing as they wondered at her need, her desire to have them fill her entirely. Amazed at her need, then their own. Wanting to feel her pussy tighten around them as she came, their fist engulfed in her. This was the same. Before it was inside her she needed someone to see, someone to understand what she was feeling. From her back she reached for the keeper and circled her arms around his waist.
"Hold me please. Look at me, my face, my body, look in my eyes. Bear witness to what I'm about to experience."
He slipped under her, cradling her head gently, stroking her cheek. Tracing the rivulets of the beasts precome on her face and breasts with his thumb.
"I will. I will tell you every response your body has. I'll recount every expression that crosses your face. How your body arches when you come on it. I worship pleasure and it is the highest honor to behold yours."
Her hands loosed his waist and began to try to work the huge cock inside her throbbing cunt. At first all she could do was rub it against her pussy. Almost like tribbing, hot wet flesh pressed against hot wet flesh. Working one side of the huge cock between her folds, lips parting. Back and forth she worked it, up and down, pussy opening further for it. The last was the hardest, her hips rolling against it until they convulsed, erratically and it slipped inside. The beast surged forward, now that it's cock was engulfed by her needy body. It had been humping before but now it was wildly pushing. Six inches in then withdrawing, the next thrust deeper still, the one following still deeper. She wanted it to be balls deep inside her, to wreck her, to be torn in two by it. Her body strained to take it, belly distending, cock plainly visible inside her. Still holding her face the keeper stroked her belly as the horse cock nestled deep inside her.
It has been this way the first time the carousel animals came to life too. A frantic need to have them all and a stillness, a calmness to feel everything that the creature before her had to offer. To let it have its way with her flesh, to drink in the experience of its need, of its hunger. She wondered where the other transfigured creatures were that had had her that night. How she could have them again.
Another push forward from the muscular haunches brought her back to the present. Its cock was almost buried to the hilt in her and it thrust again. It was as though a puzzle piece slotted home, a faint click and she was home. Her body being used the way it needed to be, far removed from her control, clenching against the giant intrusion literally rearranging her insides. A pretty, drooling and moaning cocksleeve impaled by this once statuesque beast. Her hands fluttered like beasts themselves, wild and untamed try to grab and hold anything she could to keep it where it belonged, buried deep inside her. She couldn't find purchase with her hands and struggled feebly until the caretaker placed her hands around his waist. Reaching up over her head wrapped around his waist her head cradled against his belly, her fingers interlaced behind his back. He stroked the underside of both her arms, down her ribs and back up again.
"Shh. It's not going anywhere until it's through. "
He stroked her face as it twisted, her mouth trying to form words but only inhuman sounds, grunts and groans, whimpers were forced from her.
He touched her face again, "Take it all. Take it all the way you were meant to."
Have her, it did. She could feel it tightening, its balls, the already impossibly hard shaft growing harder, covered in slick, cream from its effort and hers, burying itself deep within her body. Her back arching to meet its belly, letting it deeper inside her. She begged, moaning and whimpering as she came, the whole sheath of her body clenching against the massive intrusion and then it came. Great gushes of come, come she swore she could feel against her lungs, torrents of it in huge glistening pulses, filling her, overfilling her, running out of her even as it fucked more of it into her. It was locked inside her, her cunt squeezing it like the tightest, wettest fist. Its body and cock twitching erratically thrusting forward with no semblance of rhythm as it spent itself inside her. Her hands finding the spill, rubbing it into the swollen, tender flesh of her cunt, her belly, her tits. She wanted it to soak into her nipples, all her body absorbing the proof of its pleasure. She lapped it greedily from her palms and fingers. She wanted as much inside her as she could hold. Spilling out of her later. Her body subsuming it. Her own pleasure has soaked it, squirting, gushing against its belly and balls. She could taste herself in the come she still lapped from her hands.
The keeper stroked the creatures nose, it's breathing slowly calming. A giant engine of need having worked itself out inside her, satisfying her own desire. Each of them coming against the other.
