Posted by Jeffrey Paul Soreff on September 08, 2001 at 19:21:19:
It was a strange menage `a trois - her, him and a cool, hard gas cylinder. Her
gaunt, almost skeletal figure rose over him in the small plastic tent. Her
illness had slowly stolen her flesh over the months. She'd vowed that the virus
would not take her. The three of them joined to honor that vow.
He had first learned of her distress while they were chatting online, as they
had for years. They had greeted each other, asking, as always, about each
other's well-being. This time she'd hesitated, and her response, when it came,
was grim. She knew she didn't have much time left. She'd been losing weight, and
fighting off infections with less and less success.
They met at the airport, their first meeting offline. He recognized her from her
picture, but was shocked at how frail her illness had left her. Her form, always
slim, had wasted away under the onslaught of illness. He hugged her carefully,
almost afraid to break her fragile form. He asked if she still wanted to go
through with it. She nodded, tears in her eyes. He cradled her in his arms and
kissed her deeply.
They spent the next few days largely in each others' arms, only venturing out to
accumulate some last supplies, both sensual and lethal. The ponderous metal of
the cylinder in its cart had clanged up the steps to her apartment like some
latter-day bell, tolling out doom. They took turns sipping from the nitrogen
stream, each savoring a foretaste of the darkness, enough to take consciousness,
but not yet life.
At last all of their preparations were complete. The cylinder lay in the small
plastic tent before them, its regulator's valve waiting for the lightest of
touches to loose the cool flow. They entered the cozy, almost airtight, space
and he cradled her in his arms once more. Their heads rested on the cool steel
holding their last breaths.
They poured a fragrant oil on each other, savoring each other's bodies slowly.
His hands caressed her fingers, her toes, slid slowly along her limbs, inch by
soft inch, kneading, soothing, relaxing. His lips soon followed, his gentle
kisses sprinkling softly on her cheeks and lips and throat. They drifted slowly
lower, his tongue tracing a lazy spiral on each of her small but lovely breasts,
then teasing each nipple lovingly erect. His tongue gently traced a warm, wet
path down her sweet belly, lingering at her navel to probe and tease, then
continuing down. His lips brushed her pubic hair almost imperceptibly at first,
her thighs parting slowly to welcome him. His tongue slid over her delicious
labia, slipping up one side and down the other, circling slowly as he breathed
in her aroma. Her sex swelled under his tongue's caresses, her juices flowing.
His tongue softly parted her labia, circling her clit within them, then stealing
a direct touch, then another, then another. She moaned in pleasure, her body
tensing. His tongue slid over her aching clit again and again, licking
feverishly as her arousal grew. She came gasping, her thighs clamping hard
against his cheeks. As her orgasm subsided, his tongue slowly circled her labia
again, then again sought out its warm wet home in her sex.
Climax followed climax. Her legs shaking, she finally slid her sex from his
eager mouth. She straddled his thighs, pulling his arousal within her, and
placed one hand on the regulator handle. He thrust gently, his oily hands
caressing her sex as he slid softly in and out. His slippery touch brought her
to one last peak. As her sex clamped tight around his, his warmth pulsed into
her. Her fingers twisted the regulator handle, loosed the stream of clean, cool
gas. It washed gently over them, whispering of darkness, and struggles' end.
They embraced tightly, mouths locked in a final passionate kiss as their vision
faded to black.
(f/mf, inert gas asphyx, consensual)