Tremble: Erotic Tales of the Mystical and Sinister

She was still dressed in dusty dungarees and desert boots. Gavin couldn’t help noticing the sweat stains etched in two great patches under her thin cotton T-shirt. Saturday unhitched the dungarees, letting them drop to her waist as she pulled off the headscarf dusted white with limestone. Braless, her prominent nipples were completely visible under the fabric. The rolls of flesh rippling down to her waist ballooned out under the denim. She crossed to the stove and put the kettle on with a slam. She was irritated. Access to the quarry was limited and it was important to catalogue the fossil find as soon as possible to ensure the site got a protected listing. But Gavin had looked so forlorn, so desperate, she hadn’t been able to help herself.

Vulnerable men were her weakness. She was forever picking up the recently divorced, the bereaved, or simply the lost, all of whom were drawn to her warmth and reassuring bulk. Sometimes she wondered whether she wouldn’t be better off abandoning the search for a man who actually wanted her for herself and just opening up an orphanage. Where had her plans for discrediting the property developer gone? The irony was, now that he seemed bent on a path of self-destruction all she wanted to do was save him. Was it a genetic flaw or some kind of evolutionary paradigm she would never be able to escape?

Saturday gave Gavin a suspicious penetrating stare, then walked up to him. Gavin could feel the warmth radiating from the vast expanse of glistening olive skin—a mixture of sweat, coconut oil, and something far fruitier. He traced a droplet of sweat as it ran from the edge of her armpit down the underside of her arm. Suddenly he knew what he had to do, recognized the act that would ground him, would give him back his strength to battle whatever it was that was trying to destroy him. He lifted her arm and ra

n his tongue down her skin. Saturday froze in shock. Gavin, amazed at himself, tasted the salt at the tip of his tongue and his hormones launched a full-frontal assault on any remaining rationality.

He yanked up her T-shirt. Her brown nipples seemed to stain the whole of her humongous breasts, orbs veined and covered in a multitude of thin white stretch marks. They hung down to her waist. Overwhelmed by the desire to topple this mountainous body and penetrate it there and then, Gavin buried his head in the soft pendulous flesh.

“Gavin, please, this will ruin my credibility as a serious environmentalist. Frankly, it would be more acceptable to sleep with the head of the National Party,” Saturday whispered hoarsely, fighting the waves of desire that swept up from her groin. In lieu of an answer he lifted his head and pulled her into a deep penetrating kiss. She tasted faintly of chamomile tea and garlic. Much to Gavin’s amazement he didn’t mind—in fact, the very humanness of her excited him even more.

Standing at full height he had to lift his chin slightly to reach her mouth. He had never felt this equal with a woman in his life. She stood with her eyes closed, tongue on tongue, tasting him with short flickers, working her way up to a full sucking—a kind of miniorchestration, as if just letting him know what she was capable of. At the receiving end of her tongue Gavin felt all that defined him evaporate away. He wanted this. He wanted her. He wanted to drown in that avalanche of flesh, to lose his particularity, his need for control, his fear.

He pulled up his shirt and pressed against her, nipple to nipple. The size of her was overwhelming. He had never been with a woman who was both wider and taller than himself. He lifted her hands and placed them on his rock-hard cock.

“Well, thank God you’re to scale,” she said and laughed, a full-throated sexy gurgle.

Inspired, Gavin wrapped his hands around the cheeks of her massive arse and tried to hoist her up onto his hips. Instead, overcome by her weight, he stumbled backward and fell flat on the ground, pulling her down with him. Saturday landed across him, winding him considerably and miraculously missing his erect penis and testicles.

They lay on the kitchen floor like a bizarre starfish. Watching critically, one of Saturday’s six cats turned up its nose and walked off in disgust, tail twitching as if to indicate what ridiculous creatures humans were.

Gavin was in bliss; a breast was pushed against his cheek, another against his ear. Courageously and utterly undeterred he lifted it and searched for the nipple, almost blinding himself with half an inch of erect tissue in the process. God, this feels good, he thought, sucking down hard. Somewhere in the distance he heard Saturday groan.

He rolled her over onto her back and, with a powerful tug, managed to pull off her dungarees. The ginger pubic curls extended as far as her navel and a great pale roll of belly hung over her pubic area. He pushed it up. The swollen lips of her sex were a vivid slash against the tightly swirling hair. It was like the mouth of Mother Earth herself, a great moist cavern. He pressed his mouth against her and filled his lungs with her pungent scent.

“Keep going like that and I’ll come way before you,” Saturday murmured and yanked him by the ears back up to her face. “Besides, I want you inside of me,” she finished, then bit into his lip deliciously. She reached down and freed his cock. Her grasp was firm, knowing. None of the tentativeness of Amanda’s touch. Saturday caressed him as if his flesh was her own, making him grow harder, bigger, than he’d ever felt before. She reached farther down and cupped his burning balls. Her hands were deliciously cool. Gavin let out a long sigh; it was as if he’d come home.

“Jesus, Gavin, you’re like one long plucked chicken. What happened?” Saturday gazed at the ugly rash that extended from his groin to his chest.

“I cleansed myself, made myself pure.” His voice thickened as her strokes telegraphed quivers of ecstasy down each thigh. She hesitated for a moment, wondering whether he was mad, literary or merely poetic. She decided to gamble on the latter.

“You’re one crazy bastard.”

Without answering he slipped his fingers into her and searched for her clit. He found the hard button and started caressing it, pulling until it grew between his fingers. Watching her face as he pleasured her he catalogued its features: the heavy-lidded eyes, a blue the azure of dusk, he thought; the blemished pores showing that she must have had a troubled adolescence; the sunspots that peppered the round cheeks; the crinkling at the corners of the eyes as she smiled back at him, humor threatening to burst from her. Every living flaw excited him. She was the embodiment of Nature. She was his catharsis. The seduction of her would be his liberation.

Saturday’s breathing grew faster; a slow flush flooded her skin until it seemed almost as red as her hair, which spread around her like an angry cloud. Removing his hand she pulled him far up above her so that he straddled her chest. Then lifting her breasts, she placed his cock between them and pushed them together so the flesh tightened around his penis. Close to losing control he began rubbing backward and forward, then, worried about the political correctness of such a gesture he peered down at her face.

She smiled back at him, a slow wicked grin as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Faster,” she commanded, cupping his balls.

He obeyed, resting his weight on his knees, but although the dominant nature of such a position would usually excite him, at this moment he found it did not. He wanted to please her, to see the wave of orgasm sweep across those broad features, to hear her cry out. He turned his body and took her sex into his mouth. He closed his eyes and drank in the scent and taste of her until she permeated every pore. Meanwhile Saturday ran her tongue down his shaft, glorying in his girth, his hardness. Both of them quickened, close to climax.

Gavin paused for a moment, resting his cheek on the soft expanse of her belly. Suddenly he felt something rubbing against his foot. Arching down he peered across the length of their bodies. One of Saturday’s dogs—a diminutive mutt that looked like a cross between a Jack Russell and a Chihuahua—evidently inspired by the human activity had mounted Gavin’s leg and was busy humping his foot. Horrified, Gavin rolled off Saturday and kicked the enthusiastic beast away.

Saturday cracked up laughing. Gavin, sobered, looked at her, then began to smile, eventually breaking into a deep chuckle himself.

The paleobotanist rolled herself to sitting, her body wobbling as she threw back her head with laughter. Watching her breasts shake made him want her again. He slid over and began kissing her wildly, from her belly to the tip of her nose, then, pushing her back down onto the ground, he entered her finally.

He hoisted her legs over his shoulders and thrust into her hard. There was so much of her he was engulfed, her tightness and wetness catching at him as if her very cunt was sucking him into the core of her. This was it. His floating critical eye was closed, his body was jerked into now, the present tense, for the first time in his life. With an almighty rush, the emotional fused with the sexual. His quickening triggered her own and as he began to orgasm she followed a few seconds behind, and they both came yelling, sending hissing cats flying to all four corners of the house.

“Jesus, Saturday, that was fucking marvelous.”

Lying nestled in the crook of her arm he had never felt more relaxed in his life, as if after holding his breath for forty-three years he’d finally exhaled. One huge erect nipple dominated his horizon; snuggling down into the soft flesh he felt like a child. Saturday, for once, was silent, staring up at a damp patch on the ceiling—a leak she’d failed to fix a summer ago. Secretly she was frightened, attuned as she was to the tremors that still ran like an underground earthquake through the very stratification of her body. She didn’t want to fall in love. Not with him—a man whose politics were as abhorrent to her as Hitler’s. Besides, she was convinced she was merely a curio, an interesting diversion for Gavin. Why would a man like him want a woman like her, she couldn’t help thinking as she looked at the toned abdomen, the chiseled profile curled into the crook of her shoul

der.

Her vagina involuntarily contracted, the shape of him still echoing deep within her. She could have him again now, and if there was one thing Saturday hated, it was needing a man. There had been a time in her life where she deliberately did not come, having realized that when she orgasmed she let men in emotionally, and immediately there was a kind of fatality to the way the relationship—comradeship was how she liked to think of it, being an active socialist—played itself out from then on, invariably ending with the man leaving her. She’d be buggered if she was gonna let some man hurt her again now, especially someone she had always regarded as the bane of the Queensland environmental movement. This wasn’t just sleeping with the enemy, it was sleeping with the devil.

I think I must love her, Gavin thought, his eyes half-shut, dozing against the soft warm breast, her armpit hair tickling his nose. I’ll dump Amanda and move in Saturday, he concluded, wondering how her naked bulk would fit with the pristine trimmings of the apartment. She’d look great in a gray silk dress, low-cut, with those enormous breasts jutting out, he imagined. His mind rambled on until he had the paleobotanist squeezed into black vinyl as a familiar fetish reemerged.