& The Tongue of the Lake
They stood by the lake, dipping their feet in the water awhile. Flicking, kicking their feet in the shallows. She is wearing a loose, red dress. She still has no swimsuit, so she would have to get wet in this. She certainly wasn't about to swim bare with a man!
As she steps out into the water, she looks like a mermaid, the red tongue of Tulip Lake. All around the round lake are the fields of red tulips and strawberries, making them appear like luscious lips around this lake, the north mouth of the Motherland.
They lowered themselves into the water and swam out, to the center of the lake. Bopping on the warm waters as night came upon them and stars filled the sky. Just floating...
Then they turn and both dive together into the depths of the water underworld. They surface, laughing, he chases her, and they dive again. She is a nymph, a 'naiad', a spirit of the waters, gliding easlily in and out and down through the deep waters, he always on her tail. Playing like kids, splashing, diving, laughing. Sometimes he'd zoom in sharp and fast, like a silent torpedo, and catch her underneath. Then they'd glide out on their backs, belly flop up, around the lake.
And it is out here in the depths of the lake, that Delphina, the famous red dolphin, the real 'tongue of the lake', lives. She is the guardian spirit of the lake, and she sees the young couple swimming in her waters and begins swimming around them. A couple times she even comes up and rubs her long dolphin snout against them, in a friendly, affectionate manner, so this is a good omen. As mentioned before, the red dolphin is a very rare breed of dolphin, that lives in freshwater lakes, like this one.
~
Tomek and Venecia stopped in a place where they could both stand. The water was at about her chest level, the waves alternately covering and revealing the curve of her bosom through her wet, red dress.
Slowly their lips met, like coming together in an hypnotic trance.
They kissed. Chaste kisses, but soon his tongue was going out and licking lovely licorice trails all over her lips.
~
Their kissing became more and more passionate. Her lips began to open up, like a tulip flower, beginning to bloom. To 'flower' for him. He could feel the openness, the warm breath, the gap between her lips.
His tongue darted out and licked across her teeth.
Then his tongue began to coax her teeth apart.
Darting and flickering his tongue tip inside, beyond the pearly gates of her teeth. Tiny, teensy, flickering steps in, like he was 'tip-toeing through her tulips.'
Or rather, 'Tip-toeing through the two-lips'. Through that place of love and kisses and sweetness, where a lass's mouth blooms.
Her lips were soft, pliable; and this time she did not lock them shut, she yielded to his tongue. He could taste her acquiescence. She opens like a flower. He could taste her breath, warm, soft, and moist, like a virgin's yawn, coming to him, from that open space.
And his tongue, like a sneaky snake, slowly oozed its way inside her. Into her watery world. To join her. Become a part of 'her'.
One and one united. Connection; the binding made. Sparkles of electrical current jump between them. Floating round and round in the edy, with their hearts beating.
His tongue meandering into the hollow.
Into 'her space'.
All humans have their 'personal space'. It's their aura, extending out around them, and people take care in public not to intrude up each other's 'personal space'. Boundaries are vague, but when you open a woman's lips, and dip your tongue inside, you have definitely gone into her 'personal space'. There is an instant sense of intimacy, of being 'together', there within the confines of her mouth.
A line has been drawn. For the first time, the virgin has let another being inside her. And so now, somehow, the virgin is not quite so virginal.
Grandmas kiss little kids on the lips. Chaste, lip kisses. But a tongue in the mouth is the kiss of a man,... and a woman.
~
It's strange to her, this thick, meaty tongue, slipping inside her. She is, at first, passive, head upturned, eyes closed, and wondering where this will take her.
His hand moved up to touch and cradle her chin and cheek, and slowly eased and poised her head back a bit, to better take his tongue.
His tongue glides down into her. Into the watery world that is her, ..... her breath, ... her life. ~
He sought out her tongue. A maiden's tongue often lies low, crouched on the bottom of her mouth cave, not knowing what to expect, when the cave is first breached.
But he explored her mouth.. and found her tongue... lying low. His tongue tip caressed it, tickled it. He could feel how it rippled and palpitated. He'd found her tongue fish. The bottom-feeder of her lake.
It moved and jumped away. But he went after it. He poked it teasingly. But it was more like a caress of the tongue.
~
So the prince of our tale set out to 'court her tongue'.
His lickings and probings and gentlest pokings were making it move, ripple, and respond... He taunted it. Curling and licking his tongue slowly over the surface of hers. Giving it a little prod to jump to life. Virgins have to be 'poked' to respond.
And somewhere in those movings, his tongue-tip found hers. And he flicked it. And flicked it again and again. Like a darting serpent's quivering light tongue.
They do a slow, long, timid touching, a flicking of tongue-tips, for a long while. It is the 'Dance of Tongues.'
It is slow and romantic. In this way he courts the tip of her tongue, to not be afraid of his tongue,... or the kiss.
~
Save for the chaste, lip kisses of the past week, she'd never been kissed before. Certainly never a tongue in her mouth. And so the maiden is shy, and didn't know exactly what to do.
But his tongue taught her. Taught her to kiss. He kept cajoling it, and flicking his tongue tip against hers, teasing and tickling it so sensuously, until at last she began to respond, and flick her own tongue tip back against his. Back and forth they went, licking their tongue tips at each other, round and round each other.
He chased her tongue, into the dark corners of her mouth. And then she learned to chase his tongue back. As they flipped and flickered round and round each other. And so begins the dance of tongues.
His tongue tip touched and rubbed hers only tentatively, like two creatures in the forest, like the way Eskimos rub noses when they meet, checking out the 'other' to see who they are. His tongue is a bit larger and thicker than hers. Hers is sleek and svelte, swimming in the sea she knew. His could be overwhelming,... though she is curious about the visitor. He doesn't rush or chase. His tongue tip seeks her out in the dark, follows her warmth, and licks the tip of her tongue like a carrress.
Often. Coaxing it to trust, and come play with him. Until her tongue swims back willingly to be caressed by his foreign tongue. Whereupon the tongue tips begin to play with each other. Like two juvenile fish playing in the water. First a slow motion water ballet, tentative,... then faster as they became more assured. But just the tips, still timid creatures, playing in the waters. So she laughed.
And quite often, he pulled back, out of her, awhile. To look into her eyes under the starlight. To hold and caress her face. To kiss her ears. To look at her again. And then of course, he has to kiss her again.
The Merging Of Souls
You can court a girl a long while. Talk with her every day, on every subject under the sun. But you don't get to really know a girl until you kiss her. Every girl, every guy, they kiss a little different. You get to know who they are, by exploring each other in the kiss. Every move and twist of the tongue, that says what can't be said in words. The tongue is meant for speaking. It can speak many languges. (And the learned one is he who can speak in many tongues.) But when it can't find the word, the tongue extends itself, to siliently slither and sinuously slurp, into the ever deeper regions of the soul. To seek the soul of the other. And thus speak the language of love.
The kiss. This is the time to 'taste' her. Taste who she is.
~
They stop and swim a little more. He chases her around the pool but she's hard to catch because she's a nymph, a naiad, a water creature, so she slides through the water easily.
At one point they stop and he lifts her in his hands high over his head, the water dripping from her red dress onto him, and it indeed made her look like the tongue of the lake.
He sets her down next to him in shallow waters; they look at each other. The night is lovely,... and that kiss..!, — it had been so good! So of course.... they kiss again...
~
As he kisses her, he is cognizant of her lips, her mouth, being so much a flower. Like the tulips. Red, thick, pulpy petals. First her lips were closed, a closed bud. But as he kisses, they open up, they bloom for him. And he can stick his tongue deep into her corolla to taste her nectar.
~
When a woman's lips part, it's an invitation into her. Into her depths, her watery soul. This intercourse of tongues. This intercoursing of souls. A sort of pre-taste, preview of the intercourse of nuptials.
~
But it's a strange new feeling for a maiden, when she first lets a man in, into herself. Even if just for a kiss. Into her world, into her 'self'. It won't be the last time. She'll be letting men into herself all her life, in one recieving receptacle or another. That's her essence. To invite a man in for a warm cup of tea.
But this is her first time. The tulip, the first flower in her garden to bloom. The rose down below, that shall wait. This is the first taste of what it's going to be like. The sugar nectar and sweet honey. And the scariness of standing on your tiptoes and letting someone into you, while feeling all the tingles and the shiveryness go through you, strongly, shaking your body, making you swoon, as you hold onto him, and his hand on your back holds you up.