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Meet The Man Who Invented Sex. Seduction, intrigue and murder mark the trials and tribulations of the teenage Creator on his path to becoming a god.

Excerpt

Chapter 6: Ashrah Too
Planet: Avinu

Never a sapling parted to build this fortress of wood. That elegant balance of White Ash, Red and Black Oak and Willow, we affectionately call the Mystic Wood. It never grew to age. But rather, sprang into being with a whisper and a word.
The same is true of the entire planet. One moment it was void and space, the next… lush valleys of deep grasses languished against the feet of immense mountains. Crystal peaks, capped with purest snow danced across the horizon. Rivers and streams wept from the melting snows of those illustrious brims. To form the rivers, lakes, streams and oceans of Avinu.
The people, too, arrived, seemingly, from nowhere. One moment the land lay virgin, the next it grew resplendent with all every beast of the field and fowl of the air. With humanity thrown into the mix. Children grew as oft they do. And yet, the Old One always were.
It was the Ancients who never bore such experience. They always are and ever were. Even still, shall ever be. For an Old One never truly dies, but manifests themselves in others. In this, they always live. Not merely in the memory, but in the spirit, heart and truth of everyone. Investing others with their immortal spirit.
Unless, of course, they have an only begotten son, to whom they instill with all their power. That he may serve heaven as the Elyon, the Most Holy Above All.

Jacob’s Mount

The familiar scent of home lingered in Jehv’s mind. Though his feet dipped naked in the Waters of Siloam, his heart was elsewhere. It recalled that musty smell of leather-bound books. Ancient velum and weathered Oak blended into a vibrant aroma, with a hint of hyacinth. He’d yet to say “Goodbye.”
Full knowing he’d never return. He packed his few mementos with his heart, turned and walked away. The cook pot cold and unused. It’s fire long since banked against the hearth. Such is the remembrance of home.

If there was any lament, it was leaving his comfy chair. He recalled how he and his father built it, from rescued Black Oak.             Realizing it’s significance, now. In subduing such power, it gave him strength to face the Sirridum. He recalled with fondness, how every animal, whose fur covered it, willingly surrendered. Yes, it was a chair. But it was so much more. Again, a memory unfolded. The remembrance of his true home.
Heeding Spirit’s call, Jehv trudged into the heart of the it. As he did, her presence enfolded him. Close enough to touch, but nowhere to be seen. Jehv soldiered on, deeper than his recollection.
He knew his small corner of the forest. But had to admit, there was so much more he didn’t know. It grew deeper, and darker than his scant experience. His wisdom slow to ferment the knowledge of his heart. In that, his wisdom matured than the knowledge of words.
Onward, from the Siddurim, he hiked. embracing the view from the crest of Jacob’s Mount. The mountain beckoned softly, every step a fond “Hello.” Until finally embracing the view from Jacob’s Mount.
The torture he endured to get there, made the Waters of Siloam more precious. He drank a rich, deep drought of its life-giving waters. Washed his face in its crisp, mountain runoff. He stood on Jacob’s perch, where one might touch heaven, if not for all the stars. He smiled despite himself.
Earth fed water. Water kissed sky. Sky breathed fire. And air embraced them all. So the circle lay unbroken before him. So doing, he drank deep the vision of the world. A site he’d never before embraced. Wind blew crisp with dusting snow against his naked face. He nursed the icy air like a wino’s Muscatel. And shivered for the love of it.
He sat peaceful silence, making echoes with every dip of his toe into the serene water. Their wavelets rushed to the embrace distant shore. Each one dying halfway there. He smiled in silent wonder. Yet… he felt a presence. Her presence. When a seductive musk enveloped him.
His senses slow to react. In a breath she was upon him, rubbing his weary shoulders. He contemplated shattered the illusion, but chose instead to wait. But then he felt Ashrah’s wet kiss against his neck. And slowly turned to meet her lips. Words escaped translation. Soft her tender mouth embrace. Lost his reason to her scent, and touch.

She loosed the tie that bound her dress, gathered at her breast, allowing the garment softly fall. Her beauty round and curvy. Her undulating bosom bounced with every naked breath. Each one soft sporadic. She looked backward into his crystal eyes. Peering visual echo, as she dived into the pooling teardrops of ice. She swam the length and breath of it. But to bouncing break its surface. A wink of nipples, diamond sharp, severed the water’s waveless facade.

“Come on in, the water is fine.”
Her musk permeating reason. He stripped in one stroke, then dived into the liquid chill. “A bit nippy.” he shivered.
“Don’t worry, I can warm you up.” She kissed him again, enveloping him with her scent.

She seduced him from all reason, with a touch he’d never known. Though imbued with godlike powers, he was also just a man. She pulled him from the water, with her fingertip enticement.
And when at last their kisses fell them to the sandy shore, she lay him down and straddled, his naked, virgin loins. His young body quick reacted, filling deep her passion’s source. His manhood finding places she never knew they could attain. So she reflected on her current, human form, and wondered if it would last beyond the morning’s golden light.
What seemed like hours, passions flowed. In languid, panting breaths. Her passion’s peaks and valleys filled like none had ever done before. And she squealed delight. Her breath a heavy whisper. His replied in kind. They grunted more than spoke in those dark hours.
She ground her love into him with every measured stroke. His back bore soft impression leaving echoes in the sand. Her grunting quick, frenetic. His panting, too, it seemed. Until she reached her final passion. Then again and again.
Her sound shrill, unnerving, stirring night-birds from their perch. His moans slowed and deepened. Even so, his body surged. Every ounce of life-force drained from his heart into his loins. An explosion, near concussive, drained all spirit from his soul. Til his body flowing flaccid did at last his heartbeat fall.
She kissed him deep. Wrapped her tender arms around his neck and fell into slumber. His sturdy, muscled embrace gave her feeling she had never understood… until now. Peace. If the gods permitted, she would die within his arms. Even yet, she could not full relax, and show her true nature. She had to keep her human form, if only for the night.
Who knows? Perhaps, he’d find the strength to sex her one more time. Then for certain she would leave with his seed buried deep inside.
But night soon enveloped them, and even she submitted. Listening to the soft, true beating of his heart. The moment it stirred she’d come alive and quickly alter form. Until then, they lay, as lovers do, oblivious, and spent. The ochre sun pulled across the sky, falling velvet into night.
As morning breathed upon them, his heartbeat slowly stirred. The lapping waves lulled his mind. His body tingled, still. And would again soon. She kissed his parted lips, and slightly tasted him with her tongue. All the while, her fingertips caressed and fondled his naked form. When at last she found his morning firmness full awake, she kissed him fully down.
His eyes rolled up into his head, as she pulled the blood from his brain. Her hands enticing his seed from it’s source. She stopped short of explosion, and let him simper still. Then at last she breathed on him. Immediate, he full awaked. She straddled his passion, and pulled from him his every urging unction.
The muscles deep within her, draining every sacred drop. Until as last the his volcanic intensity poured molten deep inside. Her body undulated with every surging flow. Until at last she drained from him, even more than last night’s volley. Again, he lay spent, and withered, naked on the shore.

“You rest.” she said, standing slowly. “I’ll gather wood for a fire.”
“Thanks.” he smiled, softly, unable to form other words. And collapsed against the sand.

She dressed. Walked into the forest. Without so much as a backward glance.

Sunset found him stirring, shivering. Naked on the shore. As if his mind returned to him, he quickly awoke. Night was quickly falling, and he sensed something was wrong. But thoughts still defied reason. So he bathed. Dressed. And began returned to his quest. The night, and following morning, little more than an erotic dream.
In the valley lay Elysium, his new hearth and home. As yet to find his welcome. Hence began the trek down the other side of the mountain. The flowing waters his only guide. Which wept from Jacob’s Mount, in a river, a tributary then a stream. He followed it to breath. Pine sap filled his nostrils. The tender tinkle the musty of forest once again. Toward Elysium. He followed the waters into rivers, then a stream. Gently down. In the next valley lay Elysium, his new hearth and home. As yet to find his welcome.
Against the stream, lost in the moment, sat Ashrah. Eyes closed. Legs folded, body erect, in meditative pose. She did not notice him at first, lost in her thoughts of him. Not seeing the forest for the trees. She sat in sacred silence, a stillness he dare not intervene.
Instead he made comfortable, the forest floor his bedroll, a fallen Oak his rest. In worship, he watched her unfold. The power of her intensity burned the very timber of his soul. And yet the stillness beckoned, with that same small voice. She looked up to his eyes and knew he awaited her desire.
Eyes closed, immovable, a satin smile caressed each face. She further fell into thought, but rather found within his soul. His silence drew her open… eyes, heart and mind. Ashrah’s eyelids fluttered, as if welcoming the day. Then she saw him fully, gazing back at her. They lingered in ocular embrace. As they held one another, enraptured, the shadow of a smile never left their faces.

“Good morning.” he said knowing, having shared the night in her embrace.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” She said matter of fact. Then stood to dust pine needles from her skirt.
“And I for you… What with the forest, the mountain, the snow… you know how it is?” he looked at her and smiled.
“Well… here I am.” she echoed.
“I see.”
“So… What are you waiting for?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He replied.

Mischief bantered between them, dancing circles in their eyes. A bond no heart could rend. As if on cue they quickly closed the distance. And stepped into the others open arms. They stood, an eternity, holding one another. At last, they found home.
Her body was electric. Current surged through them in kind. Through interlaced fingers. Across twin hearts. Tenderly kissing the soul. He stepped into her eyes. Deeper than her soul. When at last they’d settled, she smiled at him and said,

“Are you going to kiss me, or just stand there like an idiot?”

He reached out to feel her soft embrace. But when their fingers lingered, the vision fell apart. He stood dumbfounded. His heart, naked. His mind, alone. Wondering if it was all for naught. “Damn!” He swore, then stumbled on.
Wisps of smoke danced serpentine into misty, morning skies. Below him set Elysium, village of the Ancients. Jehv peered on as its people scurried to and fro. Preparing for a festival, it seemed. Brilliant banners and colorful streamers embraced every upright tree. They danced from eve to eve, hut to hut, causing the village come alive in carnival.
He hoped they’d let him join in. They were his family after all, his people. His knowledge bore the clarity of a faceted stone. The pull that enticed him from his cabin wrapped him full its tendrils pulling him down the mountain to stand at the edge of the village, to finally taste the sweet smells of home.
The village stood elegant in simplicity. At its center stood a mighty, open-aired cathedral, embraced by monoliths of blue stone. Scattered about were straw huts thatched with more of the same. It’s people, his people, wore ruddy complexions and eyes of desert blue. Their smiles open and welcome, as he walked into their heart. Many waved, without a breath fear. They knew him on sight. And soon they would crown him Elyon, Most Holy Above All.
In every eye swam the waters of familiarity. Every one save hers. As far as he could see, she wasn’t there. So real had she felt in the Mystic Wood, her absence was a sad embrace. Perhaps this was all a dream, and he still lay trembling at the peak of Jacob’s Mount. He would soon awake and know a sorrow too deep for words. And then, he’d truly be alone.

The women embraced and kissed him. The men shook his hand and hugged him deep. “If this is dreaming,” he imagined, “pray I never wake.” Still, she was nowhere to be found.
Dazed, he stumbled around. The village a whirlwind of activity that carried on around him. As Principle Elder Malick approached, everyone went back to work.

“Walk with me.” Spoke Malick.
Jehv followed, trusting the little man without question.
“She is here.” Malick answered Jehv’s silent ache. “She sleeps.”
“But…”
Malick held up his hand. “She suffers for the loss of the Old Ones, your parents. The pain was too great for her waking mind to fathom. Spirit granted her healing, time to prepare.”
“Prepare… for what?”
“For you, my son.”
The way he said those words, and the flash of green in his crystal blue eyes remind Jehv of his father.
“Your father was my brother.” Malick answered.
Jehv smiled, bewildered. “So she rests? For how long?”
“This is the third day.”
“She’s been a sleep this whole time?” begged Jehv.
“Yes. Would you like to see her?”
“I don’t want to disturb her.”
“She will hardly know you’re there.” Malick fibbed for the sake of the greater good. Jehv’s mind was too confused to notice.

Malick led him to a hut, adorned with a woman’s touch. He chagrined at the sight, knowing his own home paled in comparison to this simple magnificence. Ashrah lay in her bed. Her breathing soft and shallow, while her eyes twitched back and forth.

“She dreams.” answered Malick. “Of you.”
Jehv blushed.
“Take her hand, my son. ” urged Malick. Perplexed, Jehv’s eyes implored him. “Let her feel your warmth.”

He tenderly held her hand. Having no experience with women, he held it as oft his mother did, her fingers enfolded in the hollow of his hand. Once connected, she sat upright. Her eyes closed and unseeing, but her mind, awake and aware. A furtive smiled danced across her lips.
He smiled acquiescence. Inhaling to speak, but never the words escaped his lips, as she enfolded his with hers. And drank deep his being. Her lips soft and gentle, he surrendered. Though his were chapped and chafed, she didn’t care. As long as he had breath, she’d kiss him. Something broke within her, as though a bell had shattered, its clapper fallen, and the toll of death had ceased.
He felt, too, as if he’d fallen. The world a whirling storm, and they at peace, it’s center. He’d never known a kiss before, and never one resplendent with full lips, softly parted, and the breath shared between. When passion neared its triumph, they gently parted.
Then, as quickly, she lay down. Asleep. Her hand slid away from his. She gathered up and curled into her blankets. Caressed by a smile.

Copyright 2008 B. D. Carlile. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.