Drinking Eja

Everything was to be on her terms — a double Pisces love story.

Photo by Eric Francis - Book of Blue

I want to be overwhelmed, by how much there is and how much I drink, because I want to and I am committed to and I am thirsty for amrita. I want to be there fully to receive her and to be changed by the experience…something in my dna and my soul. I want this to be with someone I care about and understand; someone I feel and feel for. One whose emotions, soaked into her water, I then drink and in a sense become.

— from Book of Blue, first edition

EJA SHOWED UP AT BLUE STUDIO one day and declared herself my girlfriend. She arrived by car from out west, parked outside my studio, and brought a bunch of her stuff upstairs.

Then she promptly reorganized the bathroom closet. She put in some milk crates for her clothing, hung her hangers on part of the rack, and said she would be staying a while. Thinking back, I have no concept how she found me. This was one of the great mysteries of Blue Studio, not the only time it happened.

She was a tiny woman with strong and unchallengeable views. I mean there was no crossing her. No that’s not accurate. She loved to argue, and to win. And she could get me riled up, though I understood what was beneath it.

Experiences in a faux spiritual community kept her tied up for 10 years and she had, at last, set herself free. The cult, really, had extremely strict sexual mores — a total prohibition, including on masturbation — and she felt like she had missed her best sexual years — her 20s. The implication was she wanted to make up for some lost time. And it seemed she would be getting started with me.

However, everything was to be on her terms.

Photo by Eric Francis - Book of Blue

She was clear about this; that meant that sex was on her terms, which seemed to be the heart of the matter, but then it extended into nearly all facets of shared existence. Nothing was negotiable; if I wanted to proceed, I would be in a submissive role.

And in the process of taking charge, she was showing up in my studio submitting herself to something that she wanted: I think, to experiment with someone willing to facilitate her, and who could possibly handle her.

She was fierce, and she could and would argue any point. As I learned with cats, I always let her win, as a conscious choice. Her physical confidence was a marvel; her body was in perfect condition and she could stretch herself into any shape. Her mind was crying out for that same flexibility.

I suspected that under her bossy demeanor she was deeply insecure. Pisces with Capricorn Moon puts that crusty personality forward first to conceal the soft watery marsh of her soul. I loved women enough to understand that she was here to explore and build some confidence. If this was to be exclusively the basis of what she wanted, so be it. I was willing to offer myself to her. I liked her and, more significantly, was curious about her.

And there was something about her I wanted. And wanted badly.

In the course of whatever discussion preceded her arrival, I learned that she was capable of full ejaculation. She could gush. And I had never taken a woman’s ejaculation into my mouth. I told her I was interested in swallowing her at full strength. She said she would consider it.

Some years earlier, someone who came for photographs, more of a friend than a model, could also do this. And though she made it clear that I would not get to taste her, she was willing to demonstrate her ability with me right next to her.

She asked for several towels to put on my bed. Then she stripped and laid back against some pillows, and masturbated herself rather easily to her first orgasm. At which she gushed a little fluid into her fingers.

Then she demonstrated how she took that liquid and massaged it against her g-spot, the area right behind her pubic bone.

This time her orgasm was deeper and her face more naked, and she spilled a little more. She glanced up at me, but only for a moment. I had spent the day photographing her, and could not believe how beautiful she was in this new incarnation of the goddess.

Her next little spurt came with some heavy breaths as she massaged again deep into her yoni, pulling her hips back against her inner hand.

The third time she came she cried out the beauty of her feelings, and spilled more, now flooding the towels a little.

Then she took a little of that liquid and again massaged it deep into her cunt, as if spinning deeper each time, pressing her hands in and up against her inner clit, fapping her outer clit aggressively, until she thrashed and gushed more fully.

Then she did it again, always massaging her new amrita deep into her vagina, and soon she was in some alternate dimension of continuous orgasm, and with each crest she cried out sweetly and spilled some more.

And I was going nuts wanting to drink her in. Every instinct in my body said put your mouth there and be nourished. But I did not. When she was done, the towels looked like they had been thrown into a swimming pool. My bedding was soaked down to the mattress, and it smelled sweet and cunty.

We settled under the covers, both of us naked. She held me and looked at my face as I let go and cried out, relieving myself. Then we slept together in the enormous wet spot she had left.

So from that experience, I had a sense of what was possible — and not from a video. I knew what I wanted, or more accurately, what I needed. My desire had been building for years.

Eja made it clear this would not happen soon, if it was to happen at all. There was also to be no fucking, and no asking to fuck. Every time I looked at her lithe little frame and her deep staring eyes, I had to get used to this.

What she was willing to do was indulge me in cunnilingus, which came with the sense that she was allowing rather than inviting.

One of my ultimate sexual fantasies is what I call a cunnilingus date — a day, an evening, a week, or a whole relationship where the core sex is cunnilingus.

And so at some point during the first week or so, she invited me to touch her, and then to put my mouth on her, in between I smelled every detail of her body. I gradually teased and awakened her desire until she was wet and craving my tongue, and until I was achingly thirsty and ready to love her with total appreciation.

We explored for a long time and then one day she announced that she wanted to orgasm.

This would not be an ejaculation orgasm; she had full control over when that happened and did not happen. She instructed me how (and how not) to lick and suck her labia, and lick her clit. When she came, she arched into a tense, taut climax, her fists clinging to my hair and pulling my face up into her. Once her inhibitions were down, she could admit her need.

And for my fulfillment and for hers, I was happy to be the vehicle of her relaxation and self-becoming.

Photo by Eric Francis - Book of Blue

We explored like this for days, always at her initiative. She had now accepted me has her oral servant. Her personal intensity, really, a demanding quality, made this all the more appealing. And as the days went on, she opened up, and relaxed her legs, and her breath, and we were able to enter a space where we both agreed I was here to offer myself to her pleasure. She began to trust that.

During this phase, I learned something: she was insecure about how she smelled and tasted. This had nothing to do with her physical truth; it was her deep, secret insecurity. Many women feel this.

Though she never admitted to feeling better, she trusted that I was fully accepting of her. Maybe you can imagine the psychic calculus when such an insecurity is coupled with someone’s desire to receive her. We found a mutual place of acceptance there. But I knew her secret, and I held her gently, and it made every sip of her the more delectable and the more of a sacred honor to receive.

In these days I discovered another insecurity: she did not like her asshole licked. To me this is natural and a supreme pleasure — but she was stunned that I would even do it, and did not want it to happen again. So be it.

But I could smell and lick her cunt whenever she wanted, which was becoming more frequently. I learned and grew to understand the folds of her labia, and of her emotions, which are the same thing. I experienced how deep her vagina extended into her tiny pelvis, and she allowed me to reach into her with my tongue and taste her deeper core essence.

Then one night she said she was ready. She wanted to ejaculate into my mouth.

She said she could not assure me that it would happen. And like many women, she sometimes experienced her ejaculation without orgasm, which was deeply frustrating. She wanted both, though could not promise that it would be so. She wanted a vibrator. She wanted the bed around her pelvis covered with towels. She wanted a small hand towel.

And then she would masturbate herself while I waited patiently to be told her release was imminent. Then I could lean in. I provided all those items. Then she wanted to smoke a little herb.

“Indica or sativa?”

“Doesn’t matter. Sativa.” I filled a one-hitter and handed it to her; she took a drag and handed it to me, and I did so as well. It was just enough for us to slip into a dreamy space we shared only with one another.

She then stripped below the waist, slipping out of her jeans and panties, and positioned herself with her pelvis at the edge of the futon bed. This was about 18 inches off the floor. She told me to strip and sit on the floor. I did as she asked, sitting down naked on a plush carpet.

“Move back a little,” she said. “I can’t be crowded.”

I did.

She began to massage her vulva, which seemed dry and flaccid. She parted her lips and dipped a finger in a little, teasing. I watched attentively and listened to her breathing and observed how she delicately invited herself into the surrender that she wanted. I had the sense that she was not always so gentle with herself — though this was a first time for both of us, and she was easing herself in lovingly. She had confided in me that nobody had ever asked to drink her, and it never occurred to her that someone would.

She glanced her clitoris with her finger and I heard her let out a little whimper. She said, “When I’m ready, I’m going to move my hands away. It’ll happen soon after. OK?”

Mm hmm.

She then reached for the vibrator — a Hitachi magic wand — with one hand, and for the small towel with the other. She cushioned her pubis and clitoris and turned on the power and made contact. I looked at her face and saw a gentle bliss I had never witnessed before. Seeing her relax, I became aware of my thirst, my long unfulfilled craving, and my long anticipated fulfillment.

I wanted to smell her moistening yoni, but held myself back.

She masturbated herself, generously and fully. Till then her only orgasms were with her vulva pressed against my mouth and face, and I could not see her expression from that angle. Now I could, and I was loving her, her beauty, her delicacy. And beneath that, rising up from below her or deep in her, her urgent need to let go, which now was coupled with the intended experience of offering herself to my thirst.

She paused and stripped off her blouse, nearly tearing the buttons. Then she resumed. She pulled her knees up and pitched her pelvis, rocking into her bliss. I wanted to hold her but knew not to. She wanted to be completely in her own world, a world of her solitary pleasure, even though I was right here.

Then she dropped the hand towel and then grind the magic wand into her cunt, almost fucking herself with its big white bulb. Her breath touched the sound of moaning. She pulled her knees apart and her breath heaved. Suddenly in that moment it occurred to me I might not like how her water tasted. My inner voice responded: this is going to be good.

“Now,” she said, and pulled her hands away and let out a gorgeous little groan of surrender.

I had my mouth positioned exactly correctly. I quickly pressed my lips, spread wide, into the flesh of her vulva, and the moment we made contact, her water rushed out, hot and fast — flooding my open mouth, and I swallowed, and another gush, and I swallowed, and another…as she emptied herself into me…and she was bitter, with a clean yet acrid flavor, and when I connected with exactly what that was, I was spun into bliss like I had never imagined.

I gently embraced her heaving cunt with my mouth swallowing deeply over and over, and took in the few last pulses of her delight.

Then I sucked her labia but it was too much. She pulled away.

I sat there throbbing and breathing and soaked in a wild kind of freedom. I sucked my mouth with my tongue and swallowed and licked my lips and wanted more. Whatever that flavor of her was nourished some deep and specific need I did not know I had.

Photo by Eric Francis - Book of Blue

I looked at her face. Her eyes were closed. I wondered what she was thinking and what she was feeling. I wanted her to see my wet and delighted face. Finally she opened her eyes. Gazing at me, they were questioning and uncertain.

I said softly across the space, “Thank you.”

And she mouthed back to me silently, “Thank you.”

My soul sang: our exchange was complete. And then my body was calling me, in this, my first moment of total satiation of my thirst.

My inner pelvis was full and my cock was hard and I wanted to let go. I knew I could do whatever I wanted — to myself. What I really wanted to do was fuck her beautifully and release myself deep into her as her face studied mine. And I knew that was not an option. Slowly I gathered the courage to just go for it.

She watched me, wondering what I would do.

I wondered for a moment and then knew. I crawled across the carpet to the floor mirror where some sex toys were kept. I retrieved one, and a cum mirror, and a little cup of coconut oil. She knew about my cum mirrors but had not seen me play with one.

I knew what I wanted. I lubed the dildo and then my ass and squatted up and sat on the thing, as we stared at one another’s faces. Now I was fucked. If I could not press into her and fill her up, I could do so myself and show her my face as I did. I looked at her through the slits of my eyes, holding to her curious gaze.

Then I picked up my spattered mirror and licked it and then smelled the mixture of my dry cum and my spit and her water, delighting in the embarrassment of doing so. I learned over and thrust the dildo into myself a few times, grunting out my need. Every cell in my body wanted to grab her and plunge into her soul and roar out my pleasure to her and to the universe.

This desire was laced with the understanding that she too wanted to fuck, and did not want to fuck me. Or maybe she did and had decided to save herself for someone else. I had my role. And here I was, fucking myself, for her, but really for myself, taking the opportunity to cast off any inhibition. I wanted to show her everything. I wanted her to know everything. That’s all that was left.

The intensely curious expression of her eyes encouraged me. I picked up the streaked mirror again and looked at my face amidst the smears and tongue streaks.

I licked again and a flake of dry semen came off and melted onto my tongue exploding with its strange flavor. I was amazed at myself, and at the same time this seemed so natural and so necessary.

I glanced at her again for approval and only saw deeper curiosity. Then I smelled my mirror again, soaking in my cunty scent mixed with hers, and set the thing down. I had no more tease left in me.

I planted myself firmly into the floor accentuating my sensation of being fucked and rooted to the ground. And then licked my hand with the mix of she and me. I wanted to be fully naked, more naked than I ever have been, so I dropped any remaining trace of pretext.

I massaged my penis, needing to burst, needing my soul to burst into hers, aching to penetrate her body and release myself into her, and she knew this. I understood that to hold me at bay was important for her and delightful for me. I looked at her face longingly with the feeling of passion and rage and want, and before I knew what was happening, existence threw my body into orgasm and then pulsing fully I was spurting into my left hand, flooding my palm.

As my climax crested I looked up at Eja and saw the same inquiring look in her eyes — no movement, no admission — and as this expression melted into softness, I met her with my gaze as I licked my palm and licked again and filled my mouth. I reminded myself I could do anything I wanted and I looked at her and dropped my tongue and revealed my semen filled mouth, ashamed and delighted with myself and revealing my truth to her.

And then I wiped my remaining semen on my face with my hands and swallowed myself into her eyes as the cool sensation washed over my cheeks and lips.

We stayed this way for a while, looking at one another across the space, and listening to the building creak — I don’t know for how long. Finally she invited me to crawl into bed with her and we slept deeply, holding one another into the night.

In the early morning silence with the sky turning orange outside the windows, we laid together in bed and masturbated ourselves together, our bodies touching, each of us calling out to the world or to ourselves or to one another, surrendering to existence, and drifting off to sleep again in one another’s arms.