Bliss with Byron

Your delicate hands wind about Byron’s neck as tightly as the lopellid vines of Werfi (although they emit no unpleasant odors). Opening your mouth to his, you allow him to slip his tongue through the pearly gateway of your teeth, before you invade his own moat and drawbridge of lips and tongue! Your tongues duel together in the fencing ground of your mouths!

“O!” you gasp as his hands slip down to your curving posterior and he lifts you against the straining magnificence in his trousers. The librarian is stronger than you expected! Indeed, it takes him but one hand to hold you against his writhing pubis, while with the other he sweeps his desk clear of several holo-books, a frenulum crystal comunit, a sturdy paperweight carved out of space rock and sundry other ephemera.

“O, Byron!” you gasp further, as he bends to press your back against the shining juki wood.

“Dear lady,” he rapturously replies, skinning out of his clothes with all the grace of a hti!he snow leopard, although obviously one that hasn’t been skinned.

All thought of your precarious position is at once driven from your mind at the sight of his tumescent naked flesh! You wriggle out of your space-pyjamas with equal fervour, although you cannot bear to waste the second it would take to remove the fuzzy slippers.

Bending over you, Byron slips one hand between your legs, and you moan unheedingly as he caresses your womanly centre. Satisfied that this adventure will cause no harm to your willing and open flesh, he places both hands beside your head and enters you in one smooth thrust, during which you almost swoon with ecstasy, waking only to his passionate kisses as they devour your lips, your cheeks, your throat, and the tip of your nose.

Locking your fuzzy-slippered feet behind his back, you meet his thrusts with your own hip gyrations, dancing with him, your love, in the dance… of love! Finally, as a dance routine might end with a spectacular lift, he lifts you, and you both shudder against each other, smiling in the standing ovation you would have received from the judges, had there been any.

“Dear lady,” he whispers, smoothing your tawny curls from your damp face. “Must you leave?”

“I must,” you sigh, and put your clothes back on. “Farewell!”

While Byron looks longingly after you, you make your way out of the library and back into the hallway whence you entered it. If you are not to re-enter the library – and why would you, when it was so hard to depart the first time – you must go through one of the other doors. Which shall you choose?

1) Surely the seal on the key matches the seal on the second door for a reason! That door is the one for you!

2) The plain door calls out to you with the sweet siren call of an unknown room. As firmly as you so recently left Byron, you step toward that door.

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