Her Scorpio Milk

Maury Island, Quartermaster Harbor and Tacoma, by the Vashon Photographer.

One day when I was living on Vashon Island, I had an occasion to visit someone who worked in a ‘professional park’ — one of those developments where small businesses have offices. You know the kind, desolate and strange buildings made of fake brick, or metal sheet, with gravel where grass should be, and every row looking exactly alike. Something like a storage unit for little companies, gradually being bleached by the hot Sun.

On the way back to my car, I heard drumming and followed the sound to a woman sitting outside her door playing a djambe. I walked over to her and she looked up and smiled. I don’t remember what I said but she thought it was funny. I was swooning over her, sitting there with her legs wrapped around a big drum, playing away in the hot Sun.

By the end of our five minute conversation I had learned she was a Scorpio and proud of it, and had scribbled my phone number on a slip of paper and said call me if you want to hang out.

I did not think of her again. Not until my phone rang about a week later and someone said, “Hi, it’s Cait. You met me when I was playing my drum outside the dentist’s office.”

“Well hello.”

“So I was wondering, what are you doing later?”

“You mean today? Tonight?” That is what she meant.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well, I thought I would come over and hang out.”

I did have some plans, but I knew I could move them. “Sure, that would be great. What time?”

“How about 9?”

“OK, see you then. Here’s my address,” and I gave her directions, went about my day and in the early evening, played in Photoshop till my phone rang again.

“Let’s make it 9:30.”

“That’s fine.”

At about 9:45 she was at my sliding glass door, which opened to a garden overlooking Puget Sound.

“Hi, Cait,” I said and she walked in, giving me a sly smile, her hip brushing against me. This was starting to seem a unusual. I started to think she had something planned. I plopped down on my couch and she sat in a big soft chair.

“Hi Eric, it’s good to see you.”

“Yes so what brings you here?”

“Oh, I just felt like hanging out. Have you got any pot?”

I said I had a little, which really was not much; she said OK I’ll be right back. At which she got up, strode up to and slipped open and shut the sliding glass door elegantly, and drove off. Having nothing much else to do, I sat there and contemplated the vast lake of Puget Sound just a little beyond my window. Mount Rainier loomed back in the darkness. That thing followed me everywhere and was visible from every window.

We were at the far end of Vashon Island, someplace called Maury Island, which used to be an island till someone built an isthmus 85 or so years earlier. Maury was delightfully desolate, and the development where I lived had the feeling of being perched on the edge of nowhere, looking over the brink. Wind coursing over the water, and the sound of waves from our little beach, emphasized the silence. In case you’ve heard of it, this would be Gold Beach, a development set at the bottom of vast cliffs in what used to be a copper mine.

Vashon and Maury are connected to one another but not to the mainland. No bridge meant the island was a haven for pot growers, and pot cookie bakers, and we were accustomed to high quality cannabis cultivated here on our little heap of rubble poking out of 600 foot deep water.

At some point while she was out, the raccoon was at my back door. She was a regular visitor, which was not surprising since I would go to my fridge, get her an egg, and leave it right outside as she watched from a safe distance. Once I would close the door, she would fetch the egg, walk off a few feet and crunch it open, eating every drop.

After about half an hour Cait was back. She slipped in the door without knocking and settled back into her chair, as nonchalantly as if she had never left. She laid back, removed a blunt from her pocket, lit it and took a drag like an old Italian guy smoking a Pall Mall. She exhaled a gust of smoke, looking beyond adorable in a faded, well-worn blue denim dress.

Then she leaned over and passed the blunt to me. A blunt is cannabis rolled into a cigar wrapper. I took one drag, not half the size of the one she had, and both the tobacco and the herb went right to my head. I felt both the body-infused sensation of cannabis indica and the soaring, mental feeling of sativa. One hit was enough, but she drew in another and passed it back to me.

Suddenly I was really, really high. I could have been dreaming; everything seemed animated and enhanced and in slow motion. She smiled at me. Looking at my new friend, this delectable little stoner with her curvy breasts and delightful hips, with a clog on one foot and the other tossed to the floor as she wiggled her bare toes, I was ready for whatever she was ready for.

She stood up, straddled me and planted a kiss on my mouth. No hesitation. I gently sucked her tongue and lips, and clasped her little waist, and smelled her mouth as I kissed her.

“Why don’t you unzip my dress?” she asked.

I reached behind her and pulled down the fine nylon zipper and she seemed to slither out of her dress and was naked in one gesture. Her white, full breasts, were delightful to look at. Around her waist she wore a fine chain that draped over her delicious hips.

I licked one of her nipples and cupped her breast in my hands, truly feeling like I was in the dreamtime, an ambiguous space of wakeful lucid imagination where we could shape our experience mutually, consciously. Her breasts emitted a scent which I loved, and which revved me profoundly.

From how her body and emotions were responding to me, I knew I could have any experience I wanted, though I had little idea what was about to happen.

Though in that moment, I knew what I wanted. I wanted to smell her pussy and get my mouth onto her. I am simple that way. When I have a beautiful woman in my arms, who is responding to me, the thing I want to do is to discover her scent, and taste her, and give her the licking of her dreams.

I kissed her and sucked her the lips of her mouth with that intention, taking little sips of her spit for fun. Then I moved with her, shifted with her, and placed her down on the chair where she was originally. I gently opened her legs, and kissed her thighs as she pulled her thighs wider, placed my face against her vulva and drew in her scent, which sent my mind spinning in the sheer pleasure of that particular intimacy.

She smelled warm and feminine, with a hint of the ocean, and she was wet. Dripping and glistening and watery wet. I kissed the lips of her vulva and her inner labia lightly, then more assertively, and then I ran my tongue up the groove of her pussy, almost from her ass to her clit, taking in a little scoop of her nectar. She called out and pressed her vulva into my face. And in this way we made love, languidly and for an elongated moment, drawn out in that way that cannabis slows time down dramatically. And this was a very lovely time to slow down and soak my senses in, as I smelled and tasted her and swallowed her, clasping her gently as her fingers played with my hair.

Her pelvis began to tip up toward me and she pulled my hair in closer and tighter. I could tell she wanted some real friction so I gave her that and she responded, melting, her vulva seeming to yawn as she exhaled a long moan and I felt that delightful gush into my mouth and onto my face and I swallowed, sucking her and penetrating her with my tongue.

I would have been a happy camper had that been all we were going to exchange. Cunnilingus makes me very, very happy and my friend Cait was a delight. And she was just getting warmed up.

“Let’s go to your room.” I said okay and led her through a room with a huge fish tank in it, past my consulting room with another fish tank, into the only room without fish, my bedroom. I remember this room for two experiences mainly, one of which is what was about to happen.

I laid down on my bed, contemplating the moment. She stood naked in the doorway to my room, as if about to close the door, and she said, “My milk just let down. I weaned my child a year ago but I can feel my milk coming in. I think I’m responding to your mouth on my breasts.”

Every cell in my body responded to that. I could not contain my happiness. An experience I wanted profoundly was right in my presence. She closed the door, walked over to the bed, kissed me for a long moment and then began to undress me. Then we were naked. I kissed her breasts all over in anticipation, but what I wanted from her was another drink from her Scorpio snatch. I kissed her mouth lovingly and her lips tasted mine.

“I want to lick you some more,” I said.

“Please do.”

And I did. I placed her on her hands and knees and asked her to press her vulva into my face from above. I licked and sucked her and sipped and delighted in her as she squirmed on my mouth. I guided her to take her pleasure as aggressively as she wanted, and had the pleasure of feeling her masturbate to orgasm on my face. I sucked in her subtle, salty liquid and then I simply had to lick out her ass, so I did, licking and nibbling as I clasped her hips gently.

Oh – my – god. I swirled my tongue on the delicate tissue of her asshole, dipping inside her slightly, smelling her and teasing her with my teeth in utter mindless bliss.

Then we slithered face to face. She kissed me some more. Then I slid down to her breasts and sucked gently, one first, then the other.

No milk.

I squeezed gently with my tongue. Oh so wonderful — but no milk.

“Here, let me help you,” she said. I felt her fingers pinch her areola gently and squeeze. Milk squirted into my mouth and seemed to illuminate my entire being with light. The taste was sweet though that ignited into the sensation of pure energy flooding through me orgasmically.

“Oh, thank you,” I said.

“Have some more.” She squeezed again. Again, sweetness and a burst of light energy infused with love and trust. I swallowed her eagerly, blissfully, gratefully. Then I kissed her smiling lips.

My cock was stiff and aching. She felt that and straddled me, sliding me into her. Her eyes rolled up a little, she groaned and we settled into a moment of deep penetration.

“Here,” she said, clasping her nipple again. I could just barely reach, and I did, and I felt her milk spray onto my tongue, lips and palate. I swallowed, moaning, as she began to fuck me. The light pulse from this most recent gulp was still filling me up as she did.

We seemed to fuck this way forever, serpentine, squirming and sliding around into different positions. There seemed to be no end to the pleasure or the exchange between us. As I penetrated her, she released burst after burst of her milk into me, quenching an ancient thirst.

At some point I needed to drink from her vagina again, and asked her if I could. She welcomed me and I did, licking her fully engorged lips and mixing the secretions of her birth canal with her milk. Then we kissed again, then I sucked her breasts again as she milked herself generously.

The room seemed to be hanging in space delicately. The utter silence of Maury Island spread out around us and a fresh breeze drifted into the window, cooling my sweaty skin. We lay interpenetrated, gazing into one another’s eyes, her vibrant hazel green eyes, resting, feeling, trusting.

Then holding my gaze she rocked her hips, fucking me again. I could have fucked her forever. She was now intent on drawing me out. On leading me to let go. Her eyes looked into mine affirming this, now hotter, wet with tears and more intense. She gestured toward her breast again and I leaned in and again her mother’s milk touched and filled my body, and I licked her in feeling that sweet taste and flash of light in my veins once again.

And again as she fucked me more aggressively, more intently until finally I spun into losing control. She grabbed my cheeks and pulled me up where she could see my face. I held my eyes open, hungry to be seen by her, eager to give her anything she wanted, eager to surrender to her fully, beautifully and then I was pulsing my own milk deep into her as she held me and said yes, yes yes, that’s what I need, thank you, that’s what I need. Then her psyche seemed to rip open and her voice rumbled and she let out all of her feelings, spilling herself all over me, filling up the room and all of space and what began as an moan became a growl as she held my face, never letting go of my eyes.

When we woke up in one another’s arms, the sky was glowing with dim orange light and the gulls were squawking outside my window over the beach. She kissed me slowly and gently, slipped out of bed and into her faded denim dress and out the door quietly, mouthing the words thank you.

I drifted back to sleep, and when I woke up the morning light was hotter and for a moment I was uncertain whether I had dreamed the whole experience. Then in the bed I felt something, and when I felt for it and looked at what it was, turned out to be the delicate gold chain she was wearing around her waist.

I walked out to my living room naked, cupping it in my hand. On the end table, the blunt was still in an ash tray. I lit it up, took a hit and sat on the couch as I watched the water glistening on the cool morning.