Another Time, Another Place

Horus’s left leg starts to shake. His head is thrown back; his eyes are closed; mouth wide open; face contorted with pleasure. It is a sign that he, too, is ready to release. I suck him harder as he grabs the back of my neck and thrusts deeper into my mouth. I am suffocating, gasping for air, but I am determined to bring him to ecstasy as I lose him past the hollow of my throat. Toth reaches up under me, and slides one finger, then two fingers into my anus, fingering me and pumping me at the same time. I am floating. I am losing myself in pleasure. I am craving more of Toth, craving more of Horus, gripping them both with orifices that are wet and dripping—the swish-swishing sound of fluids and air and friction rising in melody to the slapping of flesh against flesh.

I forget about the air I am fighting to breathe in; forget about the tears I am fighting to hold back, and greedily bob my head back and forth, slurping and sucking, hungrily throwing my hips up and down and around, meeting Toth’s thrusts, greeting his slick penis, pulling his fingers deeper into my anus.

Horus’s right leg now starts to shake. “Oh, yes…oh, yes…oh, yes…,” he says, jolting his body forward as he releases himself down into my throat. I suck and gurgle and pant, trying to swallow all of his thick, warm cream. I remove his penis from out of my throat, keep my lips wrapped snugly around its tip and suck forth the remaining droplets of his semen.

He pulls his manhood out of my mouth and violently strokes himself, bringing forth another spasmodic orgasm that spills out onto the side of my face, my neck and chest. He rubs his penis on my face, then smears himself over my left nipple, causing a delicious current of heat and sporadic contractions to sweep through my uterus, pulling Toth further into the tightness and deepness of my valley.

Horus reaches down, scoops a bit of his thick, sticky milk onto his finger, then feeds it to me. I moan and swallow. Toth is watching me lick the cream off Horus’s fingers. He whispers, “Yeah, eat the milk of his loins; swallow the bittersweet seeds of life.” Then he leans in and kisses me, passionately, reaching into my mouth with his tongue for a taste of Horus. I smile, knowing what else he longs for. He looks into my eyes, and knows I will keep the secret of his desires. Nothing done tonight on this rooftop will be spoken of, or revealed to anyone else. It is what we shall take with us to our tombs and, perhaps, share in the memory again in the afterlife.

It is now Toth’s turn to release the pleasure building in his loins. I continue to pump my hips up into his while Horus presses and rapidly massages my clit.

“Feed me your goodness…Oh, Toth,” I moan. “…You are stretching me beyond the wonders of any pleasures known to mankind. Make the gods proud tonight, ram yourself deep into my valley.” He thrusts himself harder, deeper. “Uh…mmm… don’t stop. Yes, yes, yes…”

“Uh…uh…oh, yes…mmm…Raghaba…oh, yes…”

“Fill her womb with your seeds,” Horus says in a seductive plea. “Make her womb beg for your release.”

Toth grips my hips, then plunges ferociously in and out of me. “Uh…uh…oh, yes…mmm…uh.” And when he finally comes, it is with a short, sharp cry and final thrust that propels me forward as he collapses on top of me.

We are lying side by side. I am sandwiched in the middle—arms and legs enveloped. The temperature has dropped, and there is a soft breeze, fresh and cool against our damp, sticky bodies, glistening with sweat. The intermingling of juices, the sweet musky scent of sweat and unguents become reminders of our passion. There is nothing said between us, just the sounds of heavy breathing and hearts beating against the chorus of crickets.

Horus is slowly grinding himself up against my backside. I can feel the weight of his penis pressing against the seam of my buttocks. I moan, gently pushing back against it. I reach behind me and slowly jerk it in my hand. Toth is kissing me, and kneading my breasts, gently rolling my nipples between his fingers. Instinctively, without saying a word, Horus lifts up my right leg and Toth slowly slides his manhood into my wetness. The thought of having both of them inside of me, filling me up at both ends, causes my warm fluid to gush out of me. I smile, knowing the two of them have longed for this type of closeness.

Toth is now holding my leg up, and Horus spreads open my cheeks. He licks two of his thick fingers, then inserts them deep into my rectum. I moan and groan and grind. Toth flicks my clitoris and slides himself in and out of me. I offer him my breast and he sucks on my nipple.

“Uh,” I moan.

When my hole is open and ready, Horus presses the tip of his penis against its center, then pushes in. I gasp. It is the cue Toth needs to quicken and deepen his strokes as Horus inches more of himself inside my aching anus. It is an ache that teeters between pain and pleasure. They are both deep inside of me now. I am grinding and pumping and squeezing my vagina to meet the wants of Toth. And grinding and pumping and squeezing my rectum to satisfy the needs of Horus. They are both riding in and around me. Their arms hang over me, clutching each other’s. I have become a wet, willing vessel which they can enjoy, but they are so caught up in their own pleasures, that they become oblivious to me. They are pumping in me, but pulling at each other. I give them both what they want.

“Oh, yes…oh, yes…oh, yes…,” I moan.

Horus grunts.

Toth grunts.

They both swell inside of me, ripe and ready to explode.

“Who am I?” I ask, moaning.

“Raghaba,” they answer in unison.

“Who am I?” I whisper.

“The goddess of desire,” they respond. The heat from our naked bodies pressed up against one another causes sweat to drip from our faces and down our backs. There is sweat rolling between my breasts and down my stomach, then gathering into the dip of my navel.

“Both of you,” I moan, matching their grinds. They feel so good inside of me. “Come…come…come…oh, yes.”

And, again, as if rehearsed, with their hands clasped and their fingers interlocked, they shake and shudder and fill me with warm, sticky seeds. We lay in one another’s presence for a few moments longer before I lean in and kiss them both gently on the lips. It is a kiss full of secrecy and fulfillment. It is one that holds no promises. But it is what ties us, connects us, to our desires—and leaves us wanting more.

I stand, leaving them both with flaccid penises and empty sacs—drained and exhausted, wrapped in each other’s embrace, knowing no other woman has pleasured them in the way that I have, nor allowed them to explore their hidden desires.

I am passion. I am longing. I am carnal pleasures. I am not to be tamed. Not to be confined. Behold…I am Raghaba—goddess of desire.

Dywane D. Birch, a graduate of Norfolk State University and Hunter College, is the author of Shattered Souls, From My Soul to Yours, When Loving You is Wrong, and Beneath the Bruises. He is also a contributing author to the compelling compilation, Breaking The Cycle (2005), edited by Zane—a collection of short stories on do

mestic violence, which won the 2006 NAACP Image Award for outstanding literary fiction; and a contributing author to the anthology Fantasy (2007), a collection of erotic short stories. He has a master’s degree in psychology, and is a clinically certified forensic counselor. A former director of an adolescent crisis shelter, he continues to work with adolescents and adult offenders. He currently speaks at local colleges on the issue of domestic violence while working on his fifth novel and a collection of poetry. He divides his free time between New Jersey and Maryland. You may email the author at [email protected] or visit www.myspace.com/dywaneb

A TWISTED STATE OF MIND