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In my delirium, I knew somehow that Alfrid and the children were gone. The servants had abandoned me, or died. For days I had not heard the pained cries of my two ill children, or felt a refreshingly cool cloth upon my forehead from the blessed hand of a chambermaid. An acrid and vile stench hung in the air and I did not know if it was my own, or the stench of other’s rotting in the household, or the smell of the entire city of Norwich. Perhaps it was the odor of all of England.

It was only then, when I found myself slipping through the darkened tunnels to oblivion, that the Son came. He took me by the hand and brought me to a place where the air was sweet and my body as able and fresh as it was in the flower of my youth. “Julian,” he said to me. His voice was deep and enchanting, seeming to come from everywhere yet nowhere at all. His words set my body into motion; the soft downy hairs across my skin were suddenly alert, and a tensing tingle descended down my spine, making me arch my back and dip the rear of my head as far as I could reach.

“Is this it?” I asked, finally finding my voice. It came out just above a whisper. “Does this mean I’m dead?”

He laughed richly. I squinted in the sourceless sunlight and looked upon him. His beard was nothing more than a short layer of scruff across his strong, tanned face—a departure from the long and distinguished beards when he is depicted in art and idol. His body was not as scrawny as I had imagined either—his chest was broad, and shoulders and arms muscled like a man who labored for a living. Because, I suddenly remembered, that was precisely what he was. A carpenter. His face was quick to smile, with a wide generous mouth and plump lips. His skin was dusky like a Saracen and his hair crowned his face in thick, black, glossy curls. “You are not dead, bahis firmaları my child,” he spoke again. I found myself craving the intense timbre of his voice, and I took a step closer to him. We were in a garden of sorts. There was no horizon and the environment was thick with a dreamy quality.

“Do you want to be dead?” he asked me.

I thought for a moment, back to the world that I had just come from, full of stench and death. I didn’t relish the prospect of returning as a widow, or an empty childless home. Even in modern times like these, widows still had no more rights than they did during the Conquest.

“Yes,” I breathed. “I want to be dead.”

“You have work to do for me yet, my child,” he said huskily as he approached me. My body froze as his callused fingers traveled down my back. “You have a beautiful spirit.”

“Do you see me as a spirit, my Lord? Or do you see my flesh and body?”

“I see you as you are.” His words were vague but his intent was clear. The hand continued to travel downwards until it was firmly cupping one full cheek of my behind. I moaned in combined shock and arousal. Stepping closer to him, I leaned into his chest and inhaled deeply. He smelled like the sun with a hint of frankincense and myrrh, and I suddenly felt my body at full attentiveness, as though I was inside a thurible and now burning. Fire was running through my veins, and though I knew I was laying somewhere below—nearly dead—I had never felt more alive. He took my chin in his strong grasp and I couldn’t stop trembling, even as I gazed into his dark eyes which seemed to hold the night sky in the swirl of the brown and gold iris. His mouth remained set in determination and he spoke to me clear as day though his lips never once moved. “You are mine.”

He tumbled me down to the soft grass kaçak iddaa underfoot and I fell willingly. I whimpered and moaned as his broad hand traveled across my creamy leg, pushing my skirt aside and tapping along my thigh. His hand kept moving towards the join at my thighs and I squirmed. Though he had not yet touched my most feminine part, I was ready to burst with a climax. I bucked wildly, pounding my head into the dewey grass and his careful fingers frisked my lips, caressing the soft, sparse curls and moving inwards to tug at my clitoris and swirl his finger round my threshold. When it came, I let out a piercing scream. Louder than I had ever dared scream in my life, and he looked at me with an amorous gaze and laughed. “Take your dress off,” he instructed me. I nodded in assent, pulling the flimsy fabric over my head and baring my true self for him. “Mmmm,” he moaned, “This is how I see you, Julian.”

My stomach flipped as it was wont to do in anxious moments. I had never had an anxious moment quite like this before, but being nude before the most majestic being the world has ever known had my nerves all twisted and tied. I trembled, waiting for him to touch me. It seemed I could not be still, for his force was so overwhelming that it shook me like one great gust of wind after another.

He hardly touched me but my whole body was aflame with arousal. All at once, his hands and mouth were on my neck, my breasts, my navel, my thighs, and my cunt. I was so rapt in sensation that I was taken by surprise when he pushed his manhood into me. His cock was like a sturdy fire poker driving up inside of me, hard, harder than my husband had ever been, and it filled me completely, from length to depth. In awe, I stared up at him as he gripped the malleable earth on either side of my shoulders and pumped in and kaçak bahis out of my leaking tunnel. I rocked with him, arching my back, throwing myself into the pangs of delight as he slipped against that special fiery spot inside of me. The juices flowed freely, and I was wetter than I had ever been before in my life. A lesser man would have slipped out and struggled to stay in amidst the moisture, but he only pounded harder and reached deeper. I gasped and yelled as my pussy waxed and ripened towards climaxing, and he hungrily bent down and took a rigid nipple in between his teeth. “Come, Julian. Come with me,” he murmured with my breast in his mouth. I could only moan in response, and he pushed harder, faster, and whispered words of encouragement in my ear. My first orgasm with him had been unworldly—the most powerful I had ever experienced—and I was zealously eager to see what this would bring me. “Let it go,” he commanded me. And I did. My cunt contracted and released, sending waves of ecstasy rolling through my body. I shook as I felt his release immediately afterwards, heating my tunnel with his hot cum, and feeling it drip down the sides of his cock (which still rested inside of me) and cascade down my thighs.

“Jesus,” I breathed. “Jesus.” He pulled out of me and laid down beside me on the grass, gathering me in his muscled arms. I had no idea how I could be expected to return to the doldrums earth after the kingdom of heaven had filled my cunt.

“You can’t stay here,” he told me gently, as though he had read my thoughts. I blinked as it dawned on me that he probably had. “But I will visit you again, Julian, if you promise to devote the rest of your life to me. You are best suited for this because you know what paradise truly is, my child, and you must spread the world to your fellow people.”

“I promise,” I whispered instantly. His finger lazily twirled around my hardened nipple and my rosebud started to twitch once more. I would devote my life to him, I told myself, for I could never go without this pleasure again.

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