Xena and Gabrielle are the property of MCA/Universal. The story is all mine and it contains a graphic depiction of lesbian sex. If you are still under 18 or this type of material offends you, then find something else to do. ;)
For my "obsessed"
May 29, 1997
"Once she drew
with one long kiss my whole soul through
my lips, as the sunlight drinkith dew."
Touch touch is looking at her with eyes focused so clearly that nothing else is seen beyond the perfect features of her face. You must feel her. It is imagining your fingers running through long, dark hair cascading over magnificent shoulders and feeling its silkiness as if being caught in a spider's web. You do not want to be untangled. It is feeling her smooth skin and relishing the sensations and remembering that first time when you felt any part of her. And you would do anything to relive that moment. It is longing to run your fingertips over cheekbones so well defined and falling into her warmth like a summer day. It is needing her...
touch touch is picking up her sword and running your hands over the hilt and imaging having the talent to wield such a weapon. It is holding up her chakram in amazement and wondering if the power is in it or the beholder. Or is it magic? It is using her knife for a menial task and reliving the terror it has caused. You set it down quickly. It is holding your own staff and knowing it is a mere toy compared to what pain she can inflict under the same circumstances. You feel inspired...
touch... touch is allowing yourself to see things through her eyes. For the first time, you see loss, pain, devastation, horror, and suffering. It is also telling her a riveting story of the same battle and showing her the other side. She sees hope, compassion, power, strength, and unity. Touch is also taking the journey together and supporting each other always. Without question. It is a hand reaching out to the other. It is sharing...
touch... touch is giving your last apple to Argo. You know she loves and admires that horse! It is secretly buying your warrior a new blanket on your next trip into town because she gave hers away to someone less fortunate and is too stubborn to share yours. You know she gets cold, too. It is letting her have dinner first, filling her wine glass before it is empty, not eating the last bite and going without altogether. She is more important...
touch... touch is never having her leave your mind. The mere thought of her is with of you everyday, every moment. It is wanting the best for her, supporting her decisions, giving encouragement, smiling at her from behind. You are in awe of her. It is wanting to emulate her, to be like her, growing from her power and strength. Her soul has touched your innermost depths and affects you. You respond...
touch... touch is inching your way closer to her in the middle of the night when you should be sleeping. It is a heat, a passion that drives you to be closer to her body, to feel the warmth rising from her. You must have her. You reach out and she turns and pulls you next to her. She knew you were there. You feel the cascading mane of hair, you smell fresh leather, your heart beats faster. She slowly runs a finger down your cheek to your chin. She bends forward and so softly, like a whisper, brushes her own lips to yours. They are burning hot. You part your mouth and she immediate responds with a silken tongue slowly rolling with yours. An eternity in Elyisa. The kiss grows deeper. Suddenly she is on top of you, pushing deeper, more deliberate, more urgent. You answer with a kiss more powerful than hers. You push her on to her back, climb on top, and grind your hips into hers. Her hands are all over you. In your hair, down your arms, holding your face, stroking up and down your back. You try to quickly undo your blouse, to free yourself from the confining material. She rips it off in one swift motion. Immediately she grabs at your breasts, kneading the already hard nipples, sending her mouth to them with an unstoppable hunger. Her hands have moved lower and are pushing up your skirt. You straddle her hips. She bends back to watch you. You tease her. You smile a lovers grin. You slow, almost to death, and kiss her slowly, gently pulling at her lower lip, barely biting her, sliding your tongue over hers. You moan. She whimpers. You take her by the wrists and pin her hands over her head. You kiss her urgently then stop. You bend down to nibble in the hollow of her neck and trail your tongue to her shoulders. She squirms and tries to protest your insistence but she can't. She won't. You hold her still and with one free hand bring it down to her thighs. She jerks at the suddenness. You slowly run your fingertips down to her knees, circling backwards underneath the joint and change to light fingernails run all the way back up to the incredible heat rising inside. You touch moist hair. The sensation causes her to scream out. Her need now so great, she breaks free of your bond and lifts up to remove her sweaty leathers. In a flash, she is naked in front of you. Her body is glistening in the moonlight. You wisely use the same time to remove your own skirt. She stops amid the panting and frenzy and gazes down at you. Her eyes are glowing with passion - the color a deep blue with tiny diamonds shards for brilliance. She wants to look at you, to admire you, and tell you how she feels with her eyes. She moves to speak but you press a finger to her lips and nod. You take hold of her and pull her down next to you side by side. You start a slow lovemaking. You caress her skin. You kiss her hands, her shoulders, her elbows, and everything in between. She copies the motion and adds your eyes, the back of your neck and your ears. She sends her body lower. You feel her lucious mouth on your breasts, her tongue running over taut nipples, and slowly running to the soft underside and back up the center. Her hands run down your stomach, past muscles tense and straining. Your legs spread involuntarily. She takes her fingers down your sides, over your buttocks and up your back. She continues the descent. Her tongue over your stomach, one leg thrown over yours. You own hands are buried deep in her hair, pushing her downwards. She slows to a crawl. Her face is poised directly over you. You arch up to tell her what you want. You beg; you plead with your hips. However, you want the same from her. You want to taste her. To fill your mouth with her juices. To savor what is this woman. You turn to fulfill your own desires. Now she is directly in front of you. The musky scent is overpowering. It drives you. You take your hands and spread her open. Cool air rushes in to mix with the inferno and causes the warrior to roughly catch her breath. You bring your tongue to her. She melts under your touch. Her body relaxes and gives herself to you. She no longer fights to hold on but lets herself become one with you and lowers her own mouth to the same taste. She moans in delight. You take one hand and grab at fresh dirt and rock. There is nothing to hang on to but her. So you grab her hips and delve deeper inside. Your tongue laps and probes and explores her. You tease and circle and nibble and take her between your teeth so gently, she cries your name. You spread her wider still and push your tongue deeper than it ever has before. All is not enough. You stroke her with a soft purpose. Your face is wet and you want more. Suddenly you find your concentration broken. She has enveloped you with herself and is relentless in her dining. She moves fast then slow, in then out. Her fingers are searching. She enters one, then two of them to your innermost depths. Her long, sensuous fingers probing, and stroking you at just the right speed. Her tongue never stopping or breaking rhythm. Your breath is short. She is controlling you. She owns you. You cannot deny her or hide from her. You anticipate a familiar flame rising inside you. You feel the muscles in your legs grow tense. Your face is hot and sweat pours down between your breasts. Or is that her sweat? You can feel her hard nipples against you. You feel one leg pulling tightly against yours. You can feel her heart pounding into your chest. Somewhere in the falling of ecstasy you realize your own tongue has been in a frenzy and your hear her screams. Or was it you who screamed? Or was it both of you pulling back to release at the same time? I thought so....
touch... touch is giving her pleasure and expecting none in return. But getting it all the same. Because it is more than physical; it is your soul, your passion, your mind, your being, your wants, hopes and desires. It is fulfillment. It is love. It is right now. It is everything.
touch... touch is what you have to give.
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