The Gorgon is blindfolded when I arrive at the hotel room.
She is always blindfolded and bare, sitting patiently at the end of the bed. She does not move as the dry rasp of my scales across the doorway fills the room, until all of my long tail is inside. The door closes with a click. The Gorgon maintains her composure, as if she has not heard, but her hair is not under her voluntary control. Her snakes weave and tangle, wild in their excitement.
I slither closer, and her breath catches slightly when I check the blindfold, fingers brushing her cheeks and the back of her neck as I do. If the blindfold comes undone I’m dead, but it never slips. She has tied it as firmly as ever. Her snakes wrap around my arms, holding me close, and I smile as I untangle myself.
“Gorgon,” I whisper, caressing the edge of her jaw to tilt her little face up toward me.
“Lamia,” she whispers in answer, and I delicately trace the edges of her soft lips with my fingertip. We have no names to each other. We are merely a gorgon and a lamia, chance met and joined for pleasure.
The bed – always at least king sized, and even that nearly not enough for all of me – creaks and groans under my weight as I climb onto it. I wrap a turn of my tail around the Gorgon’s slender body, squeezing slightly, and she shivers despite the heat of the room. We’re each of us enough snake to hate any chill. I take my time, stroking her back and sides, her throat, her thighs and belly and finally the perky little breasts that adorn her chest. Her nipples are already pebbled up tight; her spine arches and she moans as I pinch them, one and then the other. The first sound of the evening. The first of many.
The Gorgon is drenched slick already when I slide the tip of my tail between her legs. I could fuck her with it, she opens her legs wider to encourage me, but not today I think. I rub against her sex, teasing at the wet heat of her with smooth scales, before moving on. I slither around and around her, loving the softness of her skin and teasing at her pleasures in passing. I move her where I like, her body tiny and helpless against my strength. Finally, when she is panting and whining in her throat, I wrap her up, coiling around and restraining her. It pushes the limits of my flexibility, but I hold her with her hands restrained behind her back, her legs spread wide and my head between them.
My tongue flicks, scenting her tart musk and arousal. The Gorgon trembles when my tongue brushes her.
“Please,” she begs, her snakes twisting and squirming in anticipation as she cannot. “Oh, please…”
For such sweet begging I cannot deny her. I lash the thin tips of my tongue across her tender sex twice more, making her body jolt, before I press in to tend to her pleasure. Her clit is swollen firm beneath my lips and tongue, her flavor creamy and rich in my mouth. My hands are free, and I stroke them over her body, feel her straining muscles and again find her nipples. I pluck them in time with the swirl and flick of my tongue on her clit. Her entire body strains against my unrelenting grip, crying out as her first orgasm takes her. The second takes longer. I suck her clit, lash it hard with the tip of my tongue, and finally wring it out of her. Her body bucks and twists, trying to escape and get more at the same time, before she collapses against my coils that support even as they restrain, nearly sobbing in relief.
I give her no time to recover before I unhinge my jaw and slide my tongue all the way into her waiting sex. My sharp teeth scrape lightly against her lower belly, the tender crease of her thigh, and the soft muscles of her ass. The Gorgon gasps as much from the implied danger as the twisting of my tongue inside her. I have crushed and devoured larger than her – but then she has petrified greater than I.
My tongue undulates inside her, finding the perfect places within her to press and tap and rub. Her moans are deeper now, her voice growing hoarse with prolonged pleasure. Her thighs shake and she squirms as much as my grip and teeth will allow her, fucking herself on my tongue. The creamy slick of her pleasure drips into my waiting mouth as I give her a third and – for today – final orgasm.
I unwrap the Gorgon as I rehinge my jaw. I can feel the pattering of her heart when I lay her on top of me; the little trembles passing through her as I stroke her back.
“Oh, Lamia…” the Gorgon breathes, nuzzling her face into my breast as she cuddles against the round softness of my belly. Her snakes rub against my chest, peppering my breasts with dry snaky kisses. Another time I might ball around her to seek my own pleasure rubbed against her skin, but fall is not my season. It is enough for me now to see hers. The Gorgon knows this, and does not press. I hold her for a time, until she has recovered.
The Gorgon and I always part with a kiss, her hot little lips soft against my own and her snakes caressing my cheeks. Then I leave so she can remove her blindfold. I will be nothing but sensation and memory to her until next we choose to meet for pleasure.
TS Porter may or may not be a collection of knobbly twigs animated by ancient magics and cleverly disguised as a human by the use of glasses and an oversized hoodie. They have sold stories to several upcoming Circlet anthologies, and have a smutty novella with LT3 due out in December and available for preorders now! TS can be found online at ts-porter.tumblr.com.