BYRD AND
THE BEES
“Tell me, Byrd, why you’re suddenly fancying picnics?” Vivian struggled in her full skirts to keep up with Byrd’s long stride as he crested the wooded hill.
“An experiment, my dear.” He wore a smile that reached more of the left side of his face than his right, which meant he was up to something. Vivian felt a surge of heat between her thighs. Whatever he plotted now would surely end up as some sexual adventure for the two of them, if past experience was anything to go by.
Her laugh tinkled like music as she took a peek in the basket. “I see a blanket. I see a bit of oil, and I see something suspiciously shaped…” She withdrew a ceramic something. About eight inches long and round enough so her thumb and forefinger just touched. Domed at the top, or was that the bottom? The other end held a cork with small tubes sticking out of it that could do more that trickle water. “Like a phallus?”
She drew it out and waggled in front of Byrd. She gripped the sculpture, pretending it was him. “It’s even smooth.” Some sort of resin had sealed it, strengthening it. “What are you planning, my wicked man?”
Wiggling his eyebrows at her, he said, “My reading last week took me somewhere interesting.” He let out a puff of smoke from his pipe.
“Interesting?” She mentally cataloged the books he’d brought home in the past month. “The Vedas?” But even as she asked the question, she could feel him frowning. Their translation had only just begun.
“Caesar’s notes of Egyptian practices,” Byrd said.
“I take it we’re not talking farming?” she asked. She arched her brow and did her best to look coy.
“Well maybe a little ploughing.” He laughed and continued onward, leaving Vivian with the ceramic penis, for lack of a better word. He pulled an object out of his pocket and tossed it to her. A quartz crystal: double pointed and six sided, it was an excellent way of storing one’s energy.
“Thinking of bottling your sexual energy?” she asked, studying the crystal’s perfection. “You could start wars with that.”
“Something like that.” There was that smile again.
As she walked she looked the cylinder over. She shook it: nothing inside. She pulled out the cork to make sure. The cork still baffled her. Why the tubes? Lost in thought over the mechanics of what Byrd had made, she failed to see him stop. He grabbed her arm.
“Careful now.” He pointed up. A faint buzzing met her ears before she spotted the hive hanging from a low branch. “We need just one more thing.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. She would have walked into the beehive if he hadn’t pulled her back. She took another step back. Never did like bees.
Byrd, however, took a step forward, relieving her of the ceramic penis and crystal as he did. He let the crystal slide inside it. He crept slowly, so sly the bees didn’t take him for a threat. Vivian’s throat leapt into her mouth, making her gag. He puffed a large cloud of smoke at the hive. He positioned the bottom of the sculpture against the hole the bees used to get in and out of the hive. Then he gave the hive a good hard whack.
The air filled with the sound of angry bees as they flew out of their hive to defend their queen, and right into the hollow part of the ceramic.
“Cork.” Byrd swung his hand back toward her.
She couldn’t move. She shook her head.
“It’s two steps. Won’t let them hurt you.” He looked at her, his confident blue eyes shining, his fingers outstretched.
She took a step, then another. They were tiny little steps but they were enough to bridge the distance between them and she let the cork fall into his palm.
He stoppered it with grace as he ducked out of the way of a few remaining bees that darted into the air without any clear plan of attack. As they did, she clung to Byrd and he put his strong arm around her. The bees swung about in figure eights before retreating back into their home. Not a one bothered either of them. But why did she feel they were still buzzing all about her?
“Why would you do that?” she asked, her voice too high to be as quiet as she’d hoped.
He smiled, his eyes sparking with desire. “Feel.” He wrapped her fingers around the ceramic sculpture. The bees inside made the thing vibrate.
She took her hands away, too quickly. The bees were buzzing all around her, just contained in that thing. “I don’t understand. I thought it was for…playing with later.”
“It is.” He ran his hand down her side, and pulled her close to him. She felt his excitement through his trousers. “Rumors exist of Egyptian women putting bees in gourds for pleasuring themselves. Some even say the Queen Cleopatra invented such things.”
“For what purpose?” She looked at the sculpture like it was an alien life form. “How can bees be pleasing?”
“Let me show you,” he whispered in her ear. He proceeded to nibble his way down from earlobe to chin. “Let me give you a queen’s pleasure.”
A queen’s pleasure? she thought. The idea of it made her light-headed, or was that her fear of the bees themselves? “But the bees!”
“Only a catalyst, my love.” He held up a finger for her to be still. He stepped to the side and brought his mouth to the small tubes inside the cork and exhaled smoke into the tube. He uncorked it and the last bees crawled out, flying to rejoin their hive. “The crystal will resonate with their energy for an hour or more.” He brought his arm around her waist. “You are my queen. Allow me to give you this.” Byrd’s voice grew husky as he laid the ceramic sculpture full of bee buzz between her breasts.
She gasped, in both fear and surprise. As Byrd moved the object over her breast she felt her nipple harden in response, her undergarments moistening. She clutched his muscled arm but thought of nothing to say. She no longer had an objection. A soft moan escaped her lips, which he took for a yes.
He took the ceramic object away, leaving her feeling decidedly unsatisfied. Byrd led her a few steps to a grassy area and quickly laid down a blanket. He beckoned to her. They lay side by side. In one hand he undid the lacing of her top and with the other he controlled the vibrating phallus. He brought out one breast, freeing it from her clothing, and finished pulling at the silk lacing with his teeth, caught somewhere in between being a gentle lover and getting frustrated enough to be tempted to rip them off. Vivian had felt him like this before and she knew the signs. She brought her other breast out herself and wiggled out of her undergarments. This dress had cost too much for him to get too wild with her today.
He rolled the phallus across her breasts, moving the tip in slow circles around her taut nipple. After he teased it with the buzzing contraption, he’d take it away and lower his mouth, using the same motions with his tongue. Her breath came in heaving gasps as the phallus’s vibrations heightened her arousal. Every lick brought her closer to her peak.
She tangled her fingers in his silky hair as he worked his way inch by inch over her breasts. She reached down with her other hand and wormed it between the small gap of his clothing, past the curly hairs, finding him, and with delicate touches made him moan.
He shifted so the phallus vibrated first upon her chest, moving slowly on to her stomach, then sliding over her skirts. She lost the buzzing sensation for a moment before she felt the object on her thigh, moving upward until Byrd laid it between her legs, upon her most sensitive area.
She sucked in air as she realized she had not fully grown accustomed to the buzzing upon her flesh. Upon her skin, perhaps, but there? She thought of the bees. Angry bees close enough she could feel their anger. “I can’t,” she panted. “Bees. Inside. I can’t.”
“Remember, they are not there, only their vibrations,” he whispered, but he moved it up only a quarter inch, to that spot not quite inside that made her wet with pleasure when he ran over it with his fingers or his tongue. He pressed it there, making the buzzing intense enough that she felt it throughout her body. She moaned, louder than she ever had before. But they were alone out here and it did not matter.
She gripped him, no longer delicate in her movements, wanting to vibrate him with her hand so he could know how this felt. He grunted into her breasts as he continued licking at her nipple, suckling it once, then flicking it with his tongue. And all the while, the vibrations of the bee-infused phallus sent her heat below and flushed her cheeks with pleasure. She let out a groan as she felt the convulsions come, both from her body and from Byrd’s as he spouted his climax on her hand. He dropped the container and felt for her with his fingers.
“How was that, my queen?” Byrd asked, sitting up to kiss her. He lingered there, letting his tongue tantalize her lips.
“I’ve never felt its like,” she said. “But I do not have a queen’s courage to put such a thing inside.”
“They are not there. Only their energy. But I know you too well to think you do not have the courage of a queen.” He had that half smile again. “And bees shall be prevalent through the summer.”
“All through the summer?” she asked. She shivered at the thought of having the buzzing sculpture near her again, or even, eventually, inside her.
“Plentiful, every single day, so the astrologers predict this year.”
“So, many picnics then?” she said.
“Every single day.”