Chiyo dropped to her knees, several cherry blossom petals floating past to join the carpet of pink around her. She stood the biwa in her lap and drew the triangular plectrum across the strings.
The samurai let his kusazuri slip from his hands, delighted by the clear sounds of those few notes. He paused to listen.
Encouraged by his interest, Chiyo played a short melody. “Are you a samurai?”
“Yes, from the Fujiwara clan.” The samurai left his armor to sit near Chiyo. “You play beautifully, but I have never heard that song before.”
Chiyo bit her lip and dropped her gaze. “I compose my own songs.”
“Would you play another of your songs for me?” Chiyo lifted her gaze and smiled coyly. “I will compose a song just for you.”
The samurai’s eyebrows lifted with delight. “My own song?”
Chiyo nodded, fluttered the plectrum up and down the strings and began singing. The lyrics told a tale of valor and strength and skill, and yet the melody was full of erotic vibrations that made the samurai think of a naked woman stretching her body like a cat in the sun. His cock stiffened.
“It’s the most wonderful song I have ever heard,” said the samurai. “What is your name?”
“Chiyo,” she answered, and blushed.
“I am Takeshi.”
A tiny spider fell from the branch draped overhead and landed on Takeshi’s hand. He set his hand on the ground and waited for the spider to scurry away. Chiyo was moved by his regard for nature. Other men would have crushed it between their fingers or flicked it away. “Do you want to hear another song, Takeshi?” Takeshi had an important mission to complete, and being alone with this maiden was improper, yet he could not seem to leave. Was the grove enchanted? Was the maiden a kami, a spirit sent to keep him from his mission? He didn’t think so.
“I would like that,” he said.
Chiyo sang another song, and this one caused Takeshi to imagine disrobing the maiden and lifting her legs in the air while he fucked her. He shifted his body to conceal his rigid length, ashamed the maiden might see his undisciplined lust. His cock began to throb, the melody making him think of her silky pink wetness.
Takeshi felt a tickle at his ankle and saw a tiny spider spinning a web around his ankles. It was nature’s way of telling him to stay a bit longer.
Chiyo stared into his eyes as she sang the last note of the song, holding his gaze for longer than was proper. Takeshi found her captivating, with flawless pale skin, lips like cherries, and brown eyes promising a thousand pleasures.
Chiyo touched his hand, her fingers light as a web. “Tell me about yourself, Takeshi.”
Takeshi was a man of action, not words. Nonetheless he found himself spilling his heart to her. He talked about his father, his mother, his clan, his love of reading about his great-grandfather’s fire-inspired battle strategies. Chiyo stroked his hair while he confessed his dreams and divulged his greatest weakness, his search for perfect love. Her touch was magical, all Takeshi’s worries carried away by her soft voice and featherlight hands. He felt wonderful, her presence a cocoon of serenity. Each breath he took filled his lungs with happiness. This was perfect love.
Chiyo brushed her fingers across his cheek and he was so overcome with adoration that he took her slim little wrist and touched his lips to it. It was wrong, too forward, and he let go.
“I am sorry, Chiyo. I was overcome by your perfection.”
“Do not apologize for doing what you had to.” Chiyo pressed two fingers to his lips before she leaned in to kiss him.
She tasted like cherries and her breath was as fragrant as a blossoming garden. Takeshi wanted more. Much more. His tongue sought hers and she responded with a sigh. Chiyo climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. She inhaled the scent of his raw masculinity and savored the feel of his eager tongue. Kissing him was more delicious than a sweet red bean cake. A kiss that increased her hunger for his other flavors.
“I love you,” Takeshi said. “I will ask your father for your hand in marriage.”
“You want to make me your bride?” Her eyes lit up.
“You are my perfect love, Chiyo.” Takeshi nibbled her neck.
Chiyo could not wait one second longer—she untied the obi belted around his kimono and skimmed her hands across his chest. Next she pushed the silk away to draw circles around his hard brown nipples.
Takeshi moaned, his hunger as great as hers. Chiyo bent toward him and fluttered her eyelashes across his nipples. Takeshi groaned, all self-control slipping away. When her tongue flicked across his chest, he scooped up a handful of cherry blossom petals and scattered them over her.
The feel of the petals against her cheek sent new shoots of pleasure through her, made her clit engorge with wanting. Her mouth moved downward, past the petals, and she ran her lips back and forth over the ridges of his muscled stomach.
Takeshi could not stop the dream, could only marvel at the sensual talent of his perfect woman. He was paralyzed by pleasure, her lips and tongue his only thought.
Chiyo continued slowly downward despite his moans and her real hunger. Takeshi put his hand on her head, his throbbing cock aching for release.
“Chiyo!” Takeshi threw back his head as her tongue trailed leisurely up his length. He wanted to shove his cock in her mouth, make her suck hard. He didn’t, as he was too ensnared by her appetite for carnal pleasures. When he looked down at her again she was gazing at him, adoration shining in her eyes.
Chiyo took delight in his waterfall-fresh genitals, the musk of his virility untainted by sweat. She flicked her tongue across the slit, teasing out a tiny salt pearl of cum. The droplet was enough to send prickles of pleasure throughout her body. She cupped and stroked his balls, pleased when Takeshi’s legs tensed with mounting excitement.
Chiyo’s attentions increased, her tongue moving faster until it lapped and slurped. The moment she felt his ascension commence she slowed her pace. Takeshi moaned her name—it was the delirious chant of a lover succumbing to sheer sensation. Chiyo swallowed him whole, then eased his huge cock in and out of her throat past her tight lips. She felt every ridge, every morsel of his skin. His scent shifted, an animal heat emitting through his pores. It increased Chiyo’s appetite. Her hunger for his elixir became a craving she had to satisfy.
Takeshi’s lust spiked, his body aflame with a single yearning. “Chiyo.” His fingers dug into her hair and his groans became yelps.
Takeshi cried out in ecstasy. His body bucked and twitched, and yet Chiyo kept sucking, her fingers applying soft pressure to his balls. She wanted every drop.
Takeshi held her head as she sucked and swallowed, devouring his cum like she was parched.
Except Chiyo’s thirst was not yet quenched. She lifted her head and licked the taste of heaven from her lips.
“That was amazing.” Takeshi gave her a lopsided grin, his lids heavy, and fell asleep.
Chiyo curled next to him and felt the beginnings of his cum take hold. Already her hands looked smoother, her lungs held more air, and her vision sharpened. Cum: The perfect food. And this was only the first course.
When Takeshi awoke from his nap, he gazed at Chiyo and found her more beautiful than before. “I have business at the village.” He brushed a tiny white spider from her hair. “When I return we will go to your father.” He detangled himself from her long slender limbs and put on his armor, which Chiyo helped him lace together.
“I will be back in the morning,” he said.
“I’ll be waiting.”
They kissed deeply, and with a regretful look he walked into the grove of trees.
Despite his nap, Takeshi felt sluggish, his feet dragging, his limbs heavy as he mounted his horse. He did not question his weariness as he rode, his thoughts too preoccupied with the perfect maiden of erotic sensuality whose body he planned to enjoy for a lifetime. When he arrived at the village, Takeshi delivered the letter to the clan leader.
The clan leader read it
and nodded. “Perfect. All is in order. I will sign it immediately.” He looked at Takeshi with a worried crease across his brow. “Did you stop anywhere along the way?”
“Yes, a small waterfall west of here.”
The clan leader and advisors exchanged troubled glances.
“Is there a problem?” Takeshi stood straighter. He was not intimidated by these wrinkled old samurais.
“There is a cobweb on your hair,” said the clan leader.
Takeshi brushed it off. “The perils of sitting under a tree.”
The clan leader folded his arms. “Did you meet anyone there?”
Takeshi’s eyes widened. “A young maiden.”
The old samurais grunted with displeasure.
“Do not go there again,” said the clan leader. “That was not a maiden, that was a Jorogumo. She lures young men to their deaths by changing her form into that of a beautiful woman.”
“She sucks them dry,” said the old samurai advisor. “Sucks their life force from their bodies so she stays young and lovely.”
Takeshi was polite. He did not laugh at these old men’s tales. “Thank you for the warning.”
Takeshi enjoyed the clan leader’s hospitality for the rest of the day and even met his unmarried daughter. She was pretty enough. Nonetheless Takeshi was unmoved, his heart already loyal to Chiyo, his perfect woman.
After a breakfast of steamed rice, miso soup, pickled plums, and fish, Takeshi bid the clan leader farewell.
“Do not return to the waterfall,” said the clan leader as Takeshi mounted his horse.
Takeshi assured him he would not. As he galloped away, he suspected the reason for the clan leader’s foolish tale about the Jorogumo. It was a way to keep the beautiful girl for his son.
Chiyo was waiting for Takeshi when he arrived.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come back.” Chiyo threw her arms around his neck, her nails scraping his skin, and kissed him. “Father is eager to meet you. He says it’s important I marry before the clan leader steals me for his son.”
I knew it, thought Takeshi as he held her perfectly shaped face in his rough hands. “There is no time to waste.”
Chiyo stepped away and sat under the cherry blossom tree, a single teardrop on her pale cheek. “Once you state your intentions father will not let us be alone.” She stretched out her arms, drawing Takeshi to her side. “There will be nowhere to hide, no place to taste your lips . . .”
They kissed, their tongues grazing along teeth, thrusting and curling around each other. Lust overcame good sense, and Takeshi slid his hand over her body, his need mounting when he discovered she was not wearing all the layers beneath her kimono, that only her tightly wrapped obi prevented him from seeing her naked.
He plucked at the obi, frantic to unwind it, Chiyo’s sighs of pleasure driving him mad with desire.
Chiyo flung back both sides of the kimono, her white slender body aglow against the pink silk.
“Perfection.” Takeshi touched her pert breast, its pale pink areola perfectly round, her rosy nipple stiff with need.
Chiyo arched her back into his hand and cooed. “Don’t stop, Chiyo. I am yours.”
Takeshi was unable to stop—everything about her, from her skin to her scent to her soft voice, destroyed his self-control. He removed his kimono and fell upon her. His hands stoked her body, and his mouth covered her breasts. Chiyo cooed beneath him, her own hands running along his back and grabbing his ass. She dragged her nails over his shoulders and down his back, leaving a thin red line. Lust pooled inside her, concentrated in the warmth at the junction of her legs. She raked her nails over his back again, continued downward and over his firm ass. Takeshi returned the pleasure by scraping his teeth over her nipples. The sting deepened Chiyo’s hunger and made her clit ache even more.
“Takeshi,” she whispered. “My almost husband, I want—I need to have your cock in my mouth again.”
Takeshi groaned, rolled on his back, and spread his legs. “I am yours.”
His cock, the size of Chiyo’s forearm, made her squeal with pleasure. She rested her mouth over the head while she stroked his inner thigh, and Takeshi emitted short puffs of pleasure.
“Suck me, Chiyo.” He nudged her head down.
Chiyo lapped at his balls instead, holding them in her mouth while she stroked the skin beyond.
Takeshi let out a long cry of joy and his ass lifted off the ground.
Eager to taste his cum again, Chiyo wrapped her fingers around his girth and slid up and down. Her tongue worked vigorously around his head. Swirl. Flick. Suck. Swirl. Flick. Suck.
Takeshi’s thighs tensed and relaxed, his paradise close. Chiyo went faster, her tempo matching her own clit’s rhythm. Swirl. Flick. Suck. Swirl-flick-suck. Takeshi flew to heaven on the wings of ecstasy, his pelvis bucking against her mouth as Chiyo sucked and slurped every delicious drop of his salty elixir. Each swallow made her hornier. It was the result of virile cum, and Takeshi’s was especially potent.
Too ravenous to detect subtle nuances yesterday, Chiyo notice the flavorful tang of his cum today.
Takeshi rolled on top of her, his cock still rigid. “Let me pleasure you.”
Chiyo wrapped her thighs around him. “Fuck me, Takeshi. Take me to paradise.” As horny as she was during similar moments, no man had ever made her climax. Maybe Takeshi could.
“You took the edge off my lust, so now I will fuck you until you beg me to stop.” Takeshi thrust inside her wetness.
Chiyo whimpered as her small body strained to stretch around his size. She felt whole, complete, and filled to the brim with his love. Takeshi moved slowly, angling his withdrawal so it rubbed against her engorged clit.
Takeshi’s skin was hot against Chiyo’s, his heated steady strokes inflaming her. She gave herself over to the sensations sizzling at her core and closed her mouth over his and inhaled his essence. She was so lost to the feeling of his fucking she forgot to control the web she was spinning around them, the cocoon that would keep him trapped until she sucked every drop of life from him.
Takeshi had felt the faint tickle as the first strands wrapped around his ankles, but thought nothing of it until he saw thousands of tiny spiders suspended from the branches overhead. The old samurais had spoken the truth. Takeshi’s dream bride, the perfect woman, was a cold-hearted Jorogumo who would suck his life dry. What a fool he had been to believe such a beautiful maiden might gorge on his cum with such passion.
The venom Chiyo had infused into his neck with her nails coursed through Takeshi’s body. He didn’t care. He wanted to remain at this pleasure plateau forever, to feel her lips sucking his mouth, to slip his cock back and forth in her silky walls, to orgasm and orgasm until he died.
Chiyo spun her web around his legs and past his waist. The strands were light as a feather yet strong as iron, allowing only the movements of his thrusting pelvis. Each time she sighed or moaned the web thick-ened.
Takeshi slowed his pace, not to delay his orgasm but to prolong their fucking and take her to paradise.
Chiyo felt the air’s vibration above as hundreds of spiders swung to the rhythm of her sweet agony. Chiyo crested the waterfall of bliss with such force that she cried out as she tumbled over the precipice, her body writhing, her limbs jerking, her skin quivering with relief.
Takeshi fell with her into the churning pool of orgasm, but he was ready. Just as the web covered his shoulders his true spirit emerged and a row of spiky scales arose from his spine.
The cocoon ripped open, Chiyo’s lethal love strands shredded by his razor-sharp ridged back. Takeshi pushed Chiyo off and leapt away from the tree where spiders shot strands at him.
“My name is not Takeshi,” he said. “It is Tatsuo, Dragon Man. I am a dragon not a bug, my beautiful Jorogumo.” He shook his head and scattered the few spiders that had managed to alight on his head.
Tatsuo stretched his neck and lifted his arms to the air. His limbs thickened, turned emerald colored, and his ski
n hardened into iridescent scales. Two horns sprung from his head and long sharp teeth sprung from his dragon mouth. He reared up, his rear claws piercing the ground, and puffed out a cloud of fire that turned all the spiders to ash. Then he bounded into the grove.
Chiyo sat up, sated and surprised, her pussy dripping with his cum. “Damn.”
Stories about the Japanese shape-shifting Jorogumo— aka, ensnaring bride or whore spider—date back to ancient times. Fortunately, you can find more modern versions about this devious slut in many manga stories.
THE KISS
The sky is plowed with somber billows of gray. A few rays of sun wink through the thinnest clouds, casting, for a moment, warm light on a stone castle or sleeping hound or thatched hut. The sun plays no favorites, its life-giving splendor a capricious gift to poor, young, old, rich, healthy, and sick. The same can be said for rain and wind. Nature is an unpredictable and volatile goddess. Heed her well. For I am she.
I am the streams, rivers, and lakes. I am the rocks and mountains. My divine breath nourishes the smallest weed and the greatest tree. My heartbeat sustains the cattle, goats, and wild beasts. My eyesight is enhanced by high-soaring birds. I am the Auld Wyfe of Thunder. I am the Cailleach.
I have a great task today: The land needs a new king, and so I tread down the dirt-packed path toward the lake, my staff steadying my hitched gait. My hip is sore and a sharp pain bites at my heels. Whereas humans grumble at these aches, I smile. They are reminders of a long life blessed with journeys and strength. At the
lake’s edge I bend over, both gnarled dark hands resting atop my staff, and look at my reflection.
Mo chreach! Good heavens! I turn my face from side to side. Creases upon creases! Across my forehead and chin, around my eyes and chapped thin lips. The brown spots and ugly splotches look like mud splatter. I touch my hair, white as new-fallen snow, and stoop even lower. Bright blue eyes stare back. Ah, there I am, beneath this wrinkled skin and hunched body.
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