That Old Black Magic

That Old Black Magic

     Scarlet poppies are splashed across the green meadows over the rise of land which stretches upward toward the aqua sky. I stand below the rise and gaze into a steaming mirror of pool at my reflection. A ring of oddly shaped rocks surrounds the pool. Some are shaped like mushrooms and others like phalluses.
     I long for my beloved Tristan as I breathe his name like the murmur of a dream. We dance through the millennia together through our reincarnations. We always find each other no matter how far apart on the planet we are born. Morning wonder sighs through my heart which throbs only for him.
     I look up across the meadow and watch rippling waves form and pass through the fields of poppies as the warm wind rushes across them.  
     Soon the noon sun casts its warm rays upon my bare body. Looking down I see my reflection in the pool superimposed on the image of scarlet poppies and sparkles of golden sunlight. My long curly black tresses of hair fall down around my shoulders in a luxuriant canopy. My supple breasts and dark nipples seem to sparkle, as though coated in thousands of tiny diamonds of reflected sunlight.
     As I crouch beside the pool I can see the curve of my hips and thighs which seem suspended above the crimson poppies reflected in the dark water. I crouch there, balanced on the soles of my feet, with my arms wrapped around my knees. I seem to be in a trance.    
     Clouds cast shadows as they pass over me. The clouds are fringed with a lace of fiery golden light as they block the sun. When they pass, I am once more immersed in a bath of solar warmth. I watch silently as the sun makes its path across the sky. Soon the sun sinks below the rise of land and leaves it in a sea of darkness. The sky to the west turns crimson and the clouds appear to be on fire with flecks of purple, gold, and red.
     Venus emerges in the night sky as a bright white gem which shines in the west. The summer night breezes are warm and brush against my skin softly. The full moon rises above me and casts its pale yellow light on my fevered skin. I feel warmth rise from my belly through my body. I begin to sink into a blissful sleep.
     The sun rises in the sky and I watch across the rise in the land as a band of laughing nymphs dances through the poppy fields with their bodies glistening in the sunlight. I join them and we run, laugh, hold hands, hug, kiss, and dance with each other.
     Tristan appears, over the rise, like a heavenly vision. My ancient lover has reincarnated to join me once more in this new world. He appears to fly on angel’s wings. My heart rejoices, like a butterfly taking flight.
     We walk through green grass by a rolling stream. I feel the moist earth under my bare feet. Though reborn into a new body he is a virgin and is innocent to the ways of intimacy. I inveigle him, “Do you know what this is?” I place his hand between my thighs. Tristan blushes and I touch his cheek with my hand. “Tristan, my love, don’t be embarrassed. I am woman. I am the source of your deepest pleasure. I love you dearly.”
     With my right hand, I reach behind him and brush his buttocks with feather soft strokes. I feel him begin to quiver like a fawn. He must sense the knowledge I am about to impart in him. I love pat and begin kneading his bottom to relax his virgin modesty.
     I kneel and kiss the moist tip of his penis while swirling my tongue around his royal crown. He rises to the occasion. I girdle his prick in my rosebud lips and enfold the tip in soft tropical wetness. I heft his delicate family jewels in my palm and clasp them while rolling them tenderly with my velvety fingertips.
     With my warm wet tongue, I follow a sinuous path up his rising prominence. I gently tease the sensitive underside of his cock-crest. With my roseate lips I clutch his dew dropped tip in a sultry sea silk cocoon. His star seeds burst like pollen to be savored like honeysuckle nectar upon my psychedelic tongue. I lift my face and gaze up at him with a wicked grin. I know my lips glisten with his nectar in the sunlight. My appetite has been whetted and I am hungry for more.
     Hence I lead him by the hand to a cozy bed of clover. There I lay him down, on his back, and crouch bestride his face. His face is locked in embrace between my thighs. His lips taste my nectar and my diadem of woman which throbs like a pulsating star. His tongue sends messages of love through my glowing body. Energy in the web of life rages between our electrified bodies. My mind dissolves into misty eyed heat.
     I press my fragrant folds tightly onto his lips and impale myself on his eager tongue. He gasps with his face firmly clasped in the cusp of my thighs. I moan softly and feel his face immersed in my wet darkness. I inhale my pungent aroma as my femininity eclipses his masculinity. Thus begins Tristan’s lessons as my acolyte with me, his priestess, in our church of sensuality.