The Tale of Queen Arta Ch. 02 - Sex Stories

The Tale of Queen Arta Ch. 02

... her.

She could feel fingers tracing her body. Despite there being more fingers than two hands could possibly wield and being too disjointed to be attached to a pair of hands, they were there. And somehow, she knew they were her fingers. They knew where on her body to pinch and tease. They moved with the dexterity and know-how her own physical hands had refused to follow mere moments earlier. These spectral hands, unlike her own, were tireless. They moved, ceaseless and unyielding, calling and tracing and touching and stroking the inches of her skin, the fibers of her neurology to find where her body would react, with or without her conscious mind's acceptance. Though some part of her grasped that her own hands were fixed and immobile, it almost felt as though she were intentionally guiding the greedy, probing spiritual digits about her.

As these hands worked, bringing her to the edge of orgasm and halting, only to begin again once more, she felt them change. Their thinness, their litheness, their dexterity, their smoothness shifted. They thickened, they became both rougher and less smooth at once... man's hands. But when she felt them as they traced her sex and two slip between her nectar-soaked folds, she knew these were somehowhis hands. These infinite hands belonged to her Lancelot, her missing Knight, and they were determined. Several pairs were set to teasing, his calloused hands stroking her neck, her breasts, her thighs, her lips, her labia. Two remained ...

... still, pinching, teasing, tweaking her nipples. One stroked and rubbed and pet her lovely little button time and time again, sometimes rough, sometimes gentle, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. And two fingers stretched and flared deep within her, stroking the hidden places that mattered most.

His hands worked at her for what felt like an hour. She lost count of the number of near-orgasms she experienced. The tidal waves of pleasure seeming about to crest before freezing, captured behind some sort of dam, leaving her in a state of furious, unquenchable erotic flame. She was drenched in sweat just as her tortured, sensitive hole drooled its nectar. Whatever focus her mind had held at the start of this session had resolved itself into two simple desperations: the need to cum and the need to find her Knight. But the ethereal hands did not care for her desires. They continued their edging unabated. Her mind reeled, railed, desperate against the walls of the dam preventing her release. She wanted. No. She needed. To cum. But the hands didn't care. And as the hands worked. Ashis hands worked. As they played her like a lute. As they lay their spell, she began to drift. Though her body was firmly grasped in the clutches of the multi-dexterous and her mind remained focused on the associated pleasure, she felt some conscious part of her stretch and slip outside that web. She felt the heat of her arousal and the unwelcome inability to reach release opposed by an impossible coolness as she ...