The Hibernation Option
by
Aahlu
by
Aahlu
A few minutes before midnight Morgan, lying tightly between two women, felt exhausted, elated and on top of the world. He snoozed languidly in their combined warmth, their breathing comforting him, and their combined odours, disturbingly sexual and fragrant, reassuring him, as if he needed any reassurance, that all was indeed well with his world. And while he lay in that dreamily suspended state, his body drifted dreamily between conscious and unconscious states, limply and entirely relaxed, breathing as they breathed, slowly, steadily and rhythmical.
Tibby, the older of the two women snored lightly while the other wriggled but her movement did not bother him for their bodies still contained and cradled him completely, carrying him and comforting him, making promises they might not be able to wait until morning to keep. Primitive and perfect the sensation cushioned him, soft and yielding and exactly the right temperature, the touch of their skin against his own reassuring him, suggesting situations he hardly dared even to dream about.
What more could they offer him that they had not already given, he wondered. What treasures, what riches might they yet still have to reveal? He had taken them and shared them, used them and enjoyed them as intimately and as utterly as they had used him, but that there was something more, something else, he had no doubt and that there was much he still had to learn from them he knew with a lazy, self satisfied certainty. Their casual, unquestioningly easy manner convinced him that they were already lovers anyway, though in a way that he, as a man, would never be able to entirely understand.
Tibby moved and murmured while, on the other side of him Thea turned lightly, adjusting unconsciously to the space in which she lay. He felt her breath on his face for a moment, the smooth, angular softness of her hip pressing against him. True sleep eluded him, yet the suggestion of slumber, never far enough away to allow him true wakefulness, hovered around him as abstract and invisible as consciousness itself.
……………
Both the women, he’d soon discovered not only talked, but actually conversed, in their sleep. At first he’d found it amusing, then later, when their staccato mumblings and peculiar pronunciations jerked him into wary wakefulness for the third or fourth time, slightly annoying. Once or twice, as he lay and listened, he found he could understand what they were talking about. On other occasions he could not, the language they used being quite alien to him. At first he suspected that they were not asleep at all and that this perhaps was something which women together always did, but later, when he’d attempted to interrupt their chattering with some carefully chosen phrases of his own, he found to his amazement that, unworried by his intrusion, they welcomed his involvement and began immediately to direct their words at him. After that, when he did sleep, or at least presumed he did, he found his dreams suffused with their images, as if, even in his unconscious state they could not leave him alone.
The dreams were extremely vivid, puzzling and disturbing at first, so much so that the first time it happened he found the need to comment on them out loud.
“Dreams of that nature that are not unusual” Tibby had told him firmly. “Anyway, if you insist on sleeping between us then that is what you must expect. When you make love with us, you will dream with us and when you do you will find the two are linked more closely than you might think!”
He’d considered this without reaching any particular conclusion.
“Wintertime is always like this!” she’d informed him conversationally. “Lots of sleeping, lots of dreaming, lots of cuddling and…… What do you think we do during the long cold winter times? We take every opportunity to stay in bed! Why waste energy keeping a big kitchen warm, why burn wood needlessly keeping the fire going when you can simply snooze together in our natural warmth? The house won’t mind if its fire goes out for a couple of moons, nor will we die of cold while we have this bed to lie in and each other to cuddle!”
“This is the hibernation option” Thea then informed him gently “You ticked the box for it, remember?”
“Ticked the box?” he’d asked incredulously “What box?”
They’d laughed straight back at him then, teased him and mocked him and finally, as the afternoon of their first day together darkened towards evening they’d seized him bodily, stripped him and virtually thrown him into their bed.
……………
Now he listened to their words, not knowing whether they were asleep or awake and wondering, with sudden wild inspiration if there was really any difference. He felt the weight of Tibby’s shoulder and upper arm against him, sticky with sweat and warmly comforting, the feeling both disturbed him and calmed him at the same time. She sighed contentedly, exuding their musk when she moved her arm for him, knowing numbness and pins and needles might not be far away. Her softness settled him, soothed him, leaving him drifting lazily, partly awake, partly asleep and partly, for that was how it seemed to him, in some other state of being which was neither sleep nor wake but something somewhere in between. It was a comfortingly unhurried, unworried state and one in which ideas of all kind, no matter how outlandish seemed entirely plausible and possible to him. He moved one hand and felt the roundness of a belly against his chest, the soft stiffness of a nipple against his cheek. One of them mumbled and the other one answered and he wondered for a moment whether he ought to join in. When he inhaled, the scent of them reminded him, stiffening him again into their sweat and saliva and the faint female fluids, the tangy, frantically exuded mixtures of his, hers and theirs.
His mouth sought a nipple and drew it in gently, while the owner murmured and moved imperceptibly against him. The touch and the taste of the nipple disturbed him, dragging forgotten memories from some deep recesses, supplementing his saliva and sweetening his breath until he knew that, before long, asleep or awake, he would couple with this woman again. He became aware of Thea’s movements behind him, her hair tickling his shoulders and back as one hand slipped across his waist towards Tibby’s hip. The jutting bones of her pelvis impaled him, fixing him in position while she fumbled for him. Their bodies breathed as one, connected firmly, arms and shoulders all aligned while the split willow sticks and woven hazel staves beneath the mattress creaked and crackled and sagged appreciatively.
There was one individual stick, he mused dreamily, which emitted sharp and he presumed, sympathetic squeaks during their lovemaking. Invariably, when it did, one or other of them would pause to comment on this accompaniment, bouncing vigorously on that particular part of the mattress until their oscillations drove the whole bed into a frenzy of squeaking and squealing. Their resultant wild laughter, on top of everything else, often left the three of them momentarily exhausted.
But he lay silently and unmoving this time, allowing the stick and its companions also to slumber. Unmoving except for his casually exploring hands.
Both women scolded him resignedly when his fingers began fiddling and fidgeting around them again, but asleep or awake they accepted his advances good naturedly, lifting this limb or that only enough to assist his progress.
He wished he had more hands, more mouths, more tongues and teeth with which to pleasure them, but they giggled and groaned and offered themselves unconditionally nevertheless, their bodies equally eager to please, the older and the younger, so similar and yet so intricately, deliciously different.
He tasted them delicately, tongue tip tracing attentively while they murmured mysteriously, glowing with pleasure when he licked and lapped at the nectar they exuded for him. The sounds that they made this time were a primitive form of an unknown and unspoken language but he understood them anyway, their murmurs and movements muffled by the spreading weight of the bedclothes above them. Wordlessly they wove, their limbs entwined, their thoughts one thought, their intentions plain and purposefully simple.
Then somewhere, a thousand or a million heartbeats later, they were an immense distance beyond the point of really caring, their cries urging each other to exceed all expectations, to give and take and receive all and everything offered in utmost and extreme excess.
And so, as midnight chimed distantly Morgan sighed deeply and contentedly and without trying to recall when last, if ever, he’d felt both so elated and so exhausted at exactly the same time. He supposed he still drew breath but the mere thought of it was too painful to contemplate for more than a millisecond, the energy required for his brain to function dissipated half a dozen times. He supposed that he now slept, until, from somewhere far off he heard Tibby intoning the words of a vaguely familiar something. When Thea answer he understood more of what they were saying, without the need to comprehend every word. It was a conversation he’d heard before on several occasions, a sing-song sequence of sentences with a noticeable cadence, metre and verse. It was a poem of some kind, surely. It had to be, but try as he might he was unable to make out the words and soon, when his ears grew tired and his mind deadened by the lethargy in his limbs he gave up and allowed himself instead to cross that darkest of chasms, that indefinable boundary between wakefulness and sleep in which he knew without doubt he would dream the most wondrous of dreams with the two most wonderful women.
© Aahlu 1990 – 2000. unused fragment of another tale.
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Thu, 15th April, 2010
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