1. Parallel lives


    Date: 10/20/2014, Categories: Love Stories, Author: Alexandra_A, Rating: 7, Source: LushStories

    loving brother, and a deeper, darker, preternatural desire to please myself. Individually, such appetites are incredibly powerful; together they are irresistible. I laboured long, slept little, till at last I surmounted it. And now I had mounted it. A modicum of amusement enhanced my satisfied smile. Poised between my frail legs was the answer to James' recently posed conundrum. Again I smiled, while stroking the taut, unyielding metal beast, its oiled and polished piston poised to pump pleasure into my tight fleshy cylinder. I tied up my dark hair, loosened my bodice, and tested the sweet, sticky fluids that oozed from between my thighs. Though already wet beyond necessity, I slapped on a handful of dripping fat - juice from the Sunday roast I'd found setting in the larder - in case trepidation or a sudden malfunction caused the flow of my own lubrication to cease. I have not the power of steam at my disposal, have neither the room nor physical capacity to construct such a monster, and so, as always, I circumvented, thought laterally, turned the problem on its head. Rather than a steam-driven piston powering a pump via a rocking beam, my device works the opposite way, the force being applied in the opposite direction: my wound spring, via my newly-devised parallel linkage, operates a perfectly penetrating piston, and via a process I have christened 'parallel motion'. I love the sound of that. Parallel motion. It describes perfectly the contrary progress of the twin parallel ...
    shafts - the piston rod and pump rod - while echoing how we contrasting siblings live out our separate lives: he constantly in the light; I, along side him, entirely in shadow. After the initial design stage, in an arrangement that better suited my particular machine's primary purpose, I then turned the problem on its side, so that rather than pumping perpendicular to the Earth as such machines are wont to do, it pumped parallel to it. But for a chill wind rattling the eaves, the house was silent. I fancied the scurrying mice, the spinning spiders, the gnawing deathwatch beetles, each held their breath and waited with pregnant wonder before the commencement of my sterile coupling. The adjusting wheel turned smoothly, easily, the piston nudging unerringly forwards. Cold metal kissed my nether lips, nosed between the slippery folds. I gasped, clasped hand to mouth, as the rounded unforgiving plunger inched inside me. Legs shaking, I turned the wheel again, spinning the thread, tightening the screw, my shining icy lover melting into the dark heat of my molten core. The ratchet clicked. Clicked again. At last, he had no more to give me, and I was glad, for he filled me to bursting. He filled me to bursting in every way. The lever fitted my reaching left palm perfectly. The moment was now. With trepidation, I gently released the brake, thus easing the honed clockwork into action. The balance rocked and whirred. The mainspring, fighting against meticulously machined and graduated ...
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