Through a Night Without Questions




Through a Night Without Questions
Peter Baltensperger



The old cemetery out in the country slumbered peacefully in the warm summer night, the constellations bright
and sharp in the moonless sky. Lorelei Garner was stretched out naked on one of the graves, her legs
straight, her hands folded across her middle, somewhere an owl. Overhead, the onset of the Perseid
meteorite shower was slashing brief streaks of light through the constellations, answers to unasked questions,
phantoms in the night. She lay perfectly still in the silence, let the streaks imprint themselves on her memory,
emptied her mind.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another woman materialize from among the gravestones and come
walking towards her. The woman took off her clothes, folded them neatly into a pile on the ground, and
stretched out on the grave next to hers. She straightened her legs, folded her hands across her middle, and
looked quietly up into the sky. After a few moments, Lorelei unfolded her hands and tentatively put one of
them on the ground between the two graves. It didn’t take very long for her to see the other woman’s hands
unfold and one of them landing, like an eagle, on hers. Or an owl, she couldn’t be sure, except that the fingers
were much too soft and gentle to be talons.

The two women rolled on their sides to face each other at the same time, then wrapped their arms around
each other and pulled each other close between the graves. They took each others’ breasts into their hands
and sighed deeply with gratification and expectation. Lorelei gasped with pleasure when the other woman
pinched her nipple, then brought her head down to suckle her passionately. The woman’s breasts felt warm
and soft in her hands and she fondled them gently, eliciting whispers in a language she couldn’t understand
yet meant so much more.

One hand let go of her breast and slid down her body to her thighs, the fingers finding her trembling labia, her
clit. She cried out with excitement as the currents of electricity flooded her body and her mind, invisible
fireworks behind her closed eyes. The woman expertly stroked and rubbed her until her clit ached with passion
and the hunger for a release that wouldn’t, and couldn’t, come for a long while. She spread her legs as far as
she could to allow the woman full access to her desires, then reached over and put her own hand between the
woman’s legs. The warm, wet labia greeting her among the whispers only heightened her own excitement as
she began to fondle and rub the newly-found treasure as hers was being fondled and rubbed.

Somewhere a train clattered through the night, whisked them out of the darkness of the countryside through
the darknesses of tunnels and out into the darkness again. Lorelei’s body trembled with the clattering of the
wheels on the steel rails as they clung to each other in their passionate embrace. It was as if the constellations
were shivering in the blackness of the sky, as if the meteorites were out of tune. She groaned gutturally when
the foreign fingers squeezed her clit and drove her to distraction. The train never stopped clattering, never
stopped vibrating her excited body.

She removed the warm hand just in time to stop herself from falling over the edge, then used the swaying of
the train to roll over on her side and bury her head between the expectant thighs. She heard the woman cry
out between her whispers as she started to lick her abundant juices, filled her thirst at the aromatic well,
burrowed her tongue into the rich folds. She felt heady from the wealth of smells and tastes, excited to be the
giver yet waiting impatiently to become the receiver. The gravestones alone were her witnesses, her focal
points in the wildness of her exploration, markers in the primordial night.
When she had stilled her thirst under the shifting constellations, she emerged from her treasure and rolled on
her back to offer the other woman her own plenitude. She groaned deep down in herself when she felt the
woman’s tongue on her labia, licking her juices in turn, grazing her clit. She shuddered with delight, flung open
her eyes to follow the streaks overhead, cried out her pleasure to the night. She felt herself gyrating
passionately at the sensuous exploration of the eager tongue, felt her juices running from her to the other,
screamed when she wanted to scream.

She was almost at the pinnacle of her arousal when she stopped the other woman, turned herself around, and
buried her own head between the pair of warm thighs. Together they resumed their mutual fondling and licking
under the brilliance of the sky, sucking hungrily at each other’s clits. They slid a finger into the other’s sleek
opening and rubbed and sucked until they started to shudder between the graves, felt themselves and each
other rock through the primeval ecstasy of their orgasms. The meteorites were getting to be fewer and farther
between as they quivered together through the volcanic upheaval of their mutual release.

The train had long disappeared in the distance by the time they collected themselves, lined themselves up
side by side, and wrapped their arms around each other. The bright constellations above them stopped
shivering in their places, the fiery streaks gradually disappeared, and they held on to each other in the
wondrous aftermath of their fulfillment. They only heard the owl hoot once, then felt the silence settle over
their satiated bodies again. They sighed, to themselves and to each other, marking the conclusion of their
meeting among the graves. The constellations shifted slightly in their positions, then started to pale in the
gradual awakening of the new day.



Peter Baltensperger is a Canadian writer of Swiss origin and the author of ten books of various genres. His
latest book of erotica is a collection of short fiction, Eros for Various Voices. His poems, short stories, essays,
and articles have appeared in several hundred publications around the world over the past several decades.
His erotic writing has appeared in print in The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, Erotica Quarterly, Sex in
the City - Paris, and The International Journal of Erotica, and on-line in Bare Back Magazine, Clean Sheets,
Black Heart Magazine, The Erotic Woman, Oysters and Chocolate, and Every Night Erotica, among others. He
makes his home in London, Canada with his wife Viki and their three cats.
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