All the while Joe licked and probed below, and with each new wave of sensation that passed through her and over her, and spread out into the forest of weed around her, she felt the limits of her body dissolving, as though she and the waters and the weeds were no longer quite distinct. There was nothing unpleasant or distressing about this. Quite the reverse. The more she spread, the more of her there was to feel pleasure, her sensations flowing out into the stems and the pods and the swaying element in which she floated, then returning in waves to the soft vessel of her body, which in turn spread wider to accommodate the feelings, so that body and feelings kept on growing, each feeding off the other's advancement.
She looked up at the surface of the dream-sea, and at the dark shape of the boat above. There were figures working in the water up there, she saw, hacking at the weed to clear a path for the vessel. She wished she could coax them down to join the fun; to share what she was feeling and exuding; to watch them dissolve in the gfip of bliss, and have them open to her.
She felt a sliver of shame at these thoughts-moments ago this had been the most intimate of encounters between herself and Joe, now here she was, wanting to invite everyone in sight to join the party-but she couldn't help it. Her pleasure didn't belong to her. It couldn't be boxed, it couldn't be banked, it couldn't be traded or trafficked. It moved through her and disappeared, existing for the length of a shudder or a sigh, or a loving afternoon.
It was part of being alive, like tears and hunger; and given that her being was connected with everything else with the water and the weeds and the men on the boat abovewhat fight did she have to prevent pleasure radiating from her, giving itself freely?
With a great democracy of bliss founded in her head, she looked down at Joe through the swaying veil of stems that were caressing her face. Oh, but he was beautiful. The flesh of him, the bone of him; the bruise and blood of him He seemed to sense her scrutiny, and cast his gaze'up towards her. She smiled down upon him, feeling at that moment like some sea goddess in her temple while he, her worshipper, rose up from the darkness to eat and drink from her.
The stems had caught hold of him as they had her, she saw. they were wrapped around his limbs, and pressed against his back and buttocks with the same shamelessness as they pressed against her. She no longer sa I w any reason to ke@p them out. She relaxed her body and on the instant they floated into her, down her throat, up into her bowels, even pressing between her labia and Joe's lips to come into her by that route.
The surge of sensations almost undid her, literally. For a moment her body seemed to lose its coherence, shredding itself in pleasured layers, opening at every pore and letting the waters and all they contained rush into her, dissolving her dreamed bones.
Oh, but it was wonderful. Her parameters spread to contain all that swayed and surged around her. She was present in the waters, and in the stems and in the pods; she was rising towards the boat, she was plunging towards the darkness. She was embracing Joe as she never embraced him before, her consciousness surrounding him from all sides. She nuzzled at his ass in the form of pods, eager to enter him as she was entered; she bound his legs and arms, round and round, so tight she could feel the throb of his veins; she flowed across his back and against his chest, and against his groin too, where the water was murky with blood. He was plainly wounded, but not so badly that he couldn't be aroused. She could see and feel his rod, hard in his pants, wanting liberty.
If not for the memory of their previous couplings-the particulars of which would never leave her-she might have let her body dissolve completely. But the promise of having that intimacy again, even if it was just one more time, kept her from embracing dissolution.
Tomorrow maybe, or the day after, she'd let Phoebe go, and be unmade into everything. But before that happenedbefore her body slipped from her and went into the worldshe wanted to enjoy its particulars a little longer; wanted to take pleasure in knitting her substance with Joe's.
She pulled her arms free of the strands and reached down to take hold of his head. Again, he looked at her, but now his expression was so distracted she wasn't even certain he saw her. Then a smile appeared in his eyes and loosing himself from the eager weeds he climbed her body until they were face to face, mouth to mouth.
Did he know what had happened to her in the last few moments, she wondered? It seemed not, for when she heard his voice in her head again, murinufing his love to her, it was as if he was picking up where he'd left off.
"You can't stay," he said. "You'll wake up sooner or later, and when you do-"
"I'll come and find you."
He laid his forefinger against her lips, though she was not using them to speak. "Stay away from the door," he said, "it's dangerous. There's something terrible coming through it. Understand me? Please, Phoebe, tell me you understand me?"
"What's coming through it?" she said. "Tell me." "Iad," he said, "lad Uroboros."
His hand slipped from her mouth to the back of her head, and took firm hold of her. "I want you to promise me you'll stay away from the door," he said.
She pushed her tongue out between her lips. She wasn't going to promise anything. "Phoebe," he said, but before he could get beyond her name she mashed her face against his, distracting him with her fervor.
"I love you," she thought, "and I want you inside me."
He didn't need a second invitation. She felt him pulling his belt, then felt his dick pressing into her. It was easy; oh it was easy. But it pained him. He grimaced, and stopped moving; stopped kissing her even.
"Are you all fight?" she breathed.
"Your damn husband," he said, his voice small, and punctuated with little gasps. "I don't know... I don't know if I can... do this-"
"It's okay."
"Chfist, it hurts."
"I said it's okay."
"I want to finish what I started," he said, and began to push into her again. She looked down. The water between them was tinged red; he was plainly bleeding, and badly.
"We should stop," she said.
But he had a dogged look upon his face: teeth gritted, brow furrowed. "I want to finish," he gasped, "I want t@' A shadow fell upon them both. Phoebe looked up, and saw that somebody was leaning over the side of the boat, pointing down into the water. Did she hear a voice, remotely? She thought so.
And now two of the weed-cleaners left off their labors and were diving down through the tangle of weeds. She didn't doubt their purpose. they were coming to rescue Joe.
He hadn't seen them. He was too intent on fucking, pressing into her over and over, despite the pain on his face.
"Joe... " she murmured.
"It's okay," he thought to her. "It's kinda raw but@'
"Open your eyes, Joe." He opened them. "They're coming for you." He looked up now, and tried to wave his rescuers away, but either they thought the gestures were pleas, or else they didn't care.
The latter, Phoebe guessed, glimpsing their features. they had a distinctly alien cast to them, but it wasn't their strangeness that chilled her, it was their total absence of expression. She didn't want Joe taken from her by these blank-faced creatures. She took tighter hold of him.
"Don't go," she said.
"No way," he murmured, "I'm here, baby, I'm here."
"They're going to take you."
"No they're not. I won't let them." He pulled out of her, almost all the way, then slid back up into her, slowly, slowly, as though they had all the time in the world. "We're staying together till we're done," he said.