Dear Abby (10 page)

Abby nods, is far beyond the ability to
speak, and relaxes back down onto the stone, back between
Ixazaluoh's
thighs.
Xaman
releases her wrists and she wraps her
arms around
Ixazaluoh's
waist, getting comfortable.
Xaman
pulls back, slowly, teasingly and Abby moans again.
He snaps his hips forward and a breathy little squeak that Abby has never,
ever
heard herself make escapes her throat. His glans slides over her g-spot and
straight to the back of her cunt and Abby squirms.

"Too slow," she whines. "
C'mon.
"

"Mouthy,"
Xaman
laughs, one hand wrapping around her hip for leverage, the other sliding down to
pinch all the skin around her clit between two fingers and tug, gently.
"Demanding."

Abby squeals again and goes still. She is
learning. Gods like to be in control.

"Exactly as I like them, brother,"
Ixazaluoh
sighs. "Have patience, Abigail." She
rolls her hips up and Abby takes the hint. She licks with the flat of her
tongue again and then she turns her head sideways and starts kissing
Ixazaluoh's
labia as if it were her mouth, nipping and
nibbling on her lips, sucking them into her mouth, pressing inwards with her
tongue, but slowly, shallowly, teasing.

"Ah, ah!"
Ixazaluoh
gasps, and there is a smile in her voice.
"Clever girl,
quick learner."

Xaman
strokes in and out
twice more, excruciatingly slow and then, god, finally,
thank you
, his
tempo slowly begins to speed up.
Ixazaluoh's
hands
drop underneath Abby and find her breasts.
Xaman's
free hand tugs her clit again and Abby arches like a cat and comes again, her
inner walls clamping down on
Xaman's
cock. He stills,
waiting for the flutter to pass, huffing into her ear. Then he resumes
thrusting, faster than before. Abby moans, the sound dredged up from the
absolute bottom of her guts every time he stabs against that beautiful spot
buried deep inside her.

She wants to go breathless, boneless, but the
two gods that hold her between them are too rigid, too strong. Abby collapses
against
Ixazaluoh
, trusts her goddess to keep her
safe, upright, and just lets them have their way with her. Her jaw is sore but
Abby keeps on her task.

She is quickly getting oversensitive,
irritated pain building alongside another orgasm.

And then the eyes are back, and they are
watching intently and
oh fuck
, there are four hands on her and a cunt
under her mouth and a cock up her snatch and
fuck, fuck
, there are a
hundred phantom fingers tracing every vein along her skin, a hundred tongues
along her spine, a hundred soft caresses over every inch of her instep and the
bottoms of her toes.

"Too much!" she whines, writhing,
and
Ixazaluoh
grabs her head and presses her hard
against her groin.

"Suffer it," she hisses.
"Suffer it!
For me, Abigail."

Abby nods, nose bumping against
Ixazaluoh's
clit, and her goddess releases her. Abby gasps
for air, wriggling and screaming.

Ixazaluoh
grabs her hand and
stabs something small and sharp into the base of her left thumb. Heat floods
her pussy and her chin and Abby isn't even sure if she actually comes a third
time because she's too busy passing out.

☼

Abby wakes with a tattoo on the flesh of her
thumb. It stings a little, and it's in the shape of an abstract, blocky
waterfall. It is beautiful.

"We take care of our devotees,"
Ixazaluoh
whispers against Abby's cheek and Abby realizes
that she is sitting up, pressed between
Ixazaluoh
behind her, and
Xaman
before. She is splayed on his
lap, his cock still hard and resting against the crease between her leg and her
hip. "You're
mine
now."

"All yours," Abby slurs and lets
her head fall back against
Ixazaluoh's
shoulder, her
neck cradled between
Ixazaluoh's
lovely breasts. She
deliberately bares the love bite to
Ixazaluoh's
gaze
and is rewarded with a rough kiss. Abby loves it.

"Fast learner,"
Ixazaluoh
praises her.

"Possessive gods," Abby mutters
happily.

"Yes, we are,"
Ixazaluoh
says and brushes her palms over Abby's nipples. They are still hard, sensitive,
and Abby jerks back, into
Ixazaluoh's
chest, gasping.
"Stay still, Abby,"
Ixazaluoh
scolds
gently.

She does as she's told but it's still too
much, and she can't clamp her lips closed around the whine that escapes.
Ixazaluoh
wraps her arms around Abby's ribs and lifts her.
There are hands against her entrance and then, oh, "
Fuck!"
Abby
moans.

"Slowly, slowly,"
Xaman
says, pulls her weight off of
Ixazaluoh
and against himself, rests her head against his pectorals. He rolls his hips
upwards, stabbing up into Abby and she shudders all over. "Stay
still," he whispers, petting her hair. "Let me have you. Stay
still."

Abby couldn't move even if she wanted to, so
she obeys. Her eyes are closed and her cheek is pressed to his clavicle and she
lets him masturbate himself in her cunt, lifting her and letting her drop
gently, so gently.
Ixazaluoh
kisses along her spine.

Abby
comes
twice
more before
Xaman
does. His semen is cool against her
walls and she shudders all over at the juxtaposition of sensation, tensing and
hissing. When
Ixazaluoh
lays her back against the
stone, pins her shoulders with her own knees, holds her down, and licks his
seed out from between her legs it actually
hurts
.

"No more, please," Abby sobs.

Ixazaluoh
takes pity on her,
fulfills her vows to adhere to Abby's three requests, and lets her up. She
cradles Abby on her oversized lap like a child and Abby curls into her embrace,
eyes slipping closed and a well-earned weariness wrapping around her like a
cloak.

"Oh, my own, my own, my dear Abby,"
Ixazaluoh
whispers. "Thank you, thank you."

Xaman
tucks in beside
them, covering Abby's back. She is surrounded on all sides by the smell of sex,
and companionship, and the jungle.

"People have forgotten,"
Xaman
says into her hair. "The world has forgotten my
kind. We fade when you forget us. We die. And because we are fading, people
have forgotten how to look at us.
How to look
for
us.
We need people like you, Abigail.
People who look at the
world and
see
it, who long to break down the barriers and illusions of
comfort and who want to see the real, as it is.
For
what it is."

"You mean, filled with things that
shouldn't exist?" Abby asks, managing to jerk her brain into enough gear
to consider what he's explaining.

"Why shouldn't we exist?"
Xaman
chuckles.
"We did before, why not now?"

"Okay, fair enough," Abby admits.
"So, is that you've… initiated me?
Because you need more
people to see you?
Believe in you?"

Xaman
chuckles again.
"We ask you to be our devoted, Abigail, because we
want
you. Not
because we need to exploit you."

"But I could," Abby says. "I
mean, I could write articles, convince people to… to…"

"Worship gods by having orgies at
tourist resorts?"
Ixazaluoh
asks bluntly, lips
pulled into a wry smile.

"Right, it sounds dumb when you say it
like that," Abby admits.

Xaman
reaches out, takes
Abby's head between his hands, long fingers tangling in her sweat-damp hair, thumbs
brushing over her freckled cheeks. He presses his mouth against hers, soft and
contemplative, sipping at her lips.

"Come back to us when you can," he
murmurs, nosing her cheek and lipping her chin. "We love you."

"It might not be
until next year," Abby says, eyes still closed.
"It might not
be for years and years. They may never send me back."

"Find a way to us on your own,
then,"
Ixazaluoh
says. Her lips skim across the
join of Abby's shoulder and neck. "We are immortal. We are patient."

Her left hand slides down Abby's stomach.
Abby follows it with her own and fancies she can feel the slight press of the
raised flesh of her tattoo against the skin of her pubis, prickly with new
hair. The texture difference is electrifying.

Ixazaluoh
curls her fingers
into Abby, pressing up sweetly, easily. Abby is still so
wet
.

Abby gasps, arching back to grind against
Ixazaluoh's
fingers, which are stroking over her g-spot,
her thumb circling her clit but never quite touching.
Xaman
leans down and kisses her nipples, first one, then the other, then licks the
sweaty undersides of her breasts, leaving god-cool breath in his wake to make
them pinch up with the cold and the sensation.

"Yeah, okay, okay," Abby moans,
rocking between them. "I'll come back, I'll come—
ungk
!
"
It takes her a while to find her words again, after she's stopped gyrating in
Ixazaluoh's
lap, and her breath has returned. "Jesus,
lay off or I'll never be able to walk outta here. You guys are
gonna
kill
me."

"Please don't say that one's name
here,"
Xaman
says into her mouth.

"Right, sure, right," Abby sighs.

"You make us strong,"
Xaman
says. "Stronger than we've been in a long time.
Perhaps even strong enough to bring you back here ourselves, come the next
solstice."

"Keep our totems
on you, and render each of your orgasms to me,"
Ixazaluoh
whispers in Abby's ear.
"Send them to me."

Abby shivers all over. "Yeah," she
says. "Hell yeah, I'd be up for that."

Ixazaluoh
laughs and buries
her face in Abby's hair, licking tenderly at the nape of her neck. "You
have pleased me greatly, Abby,"
Ixazaluoh
says.
"I am so proud of you."

"Well, you guys throw one hell of a
party," Abby admits. And then, because it's been a night for courage, Abby
adds: "I love you."

"And I you, my
own.
Now… close your eyes, Abigail,"
Ixazaluoh
says.

Abby trusts her lover, and Abby obeys her
goddess, so she does.

☼

When Abby opens her eyes again, she is back
in her room in the
Riviera
Luxuria
. She is
laying
on top of the duvet on the bed. She is sticky with
sweat and semen, gritty with the fine gravel and dirt, with plant matter and
lip gloss. She sighs and stretches, content, so fucking content that she could
fall asleep right there.

But then she thinks of matted hair, and being
stuck to the sheets in the morning, and forces her body up and into the
decadent Jacuzzi tub.

As the bubbles build into mounds, Abby
presses the base of her thumb, right over the waterfall tattoo. 
Satisfaction lopes through her veins when she brushes it carefully with a
knuckle.
Soft, quiet satisfaction.

When Abby became a travel writer, it was for
this.
For water.
For women.
For experiences.
For learning and for
sharing and for cherishing.
For discovering something new, and not
claiming it, not conquering it, not exploiting it. For discovering something
new to her, and old to the world, and just letting it exist.
Revelling
in that existence.

Abby has never believed in much of anything.

Now she believes in gods.
And
herself.

When the tub is full, Abby slips into the
water with a contented sigh. Closing her eyes, she slips her hand between her
legs, her tattoo pressed against her clit, and smiles as she begins to stroke.

She's never felt so at home before, so
relaxed—any other time she'd fear falling asleep and drowning, but she's just
promised herself to the goddess of water and women. She'll be fine.

The gods protect what is theirs.