Enola's Pleasure

"Thank you both!" Enola interjected, bringing the argument between the twins to a sudden end. She smiled to them, held the gifts to her bosom -- now more ample than even her mother's -- and repeated, "Thank you both. I will cherish them forever."

The party continued, but as the sun began to near the horizon, Enola's joy began to fade. Eventually, she slipped away from the party to make her way up to the peak from which she'd watched the Mariner's departure ten years earlier.

She'd been but a naïve girl then. She was still naïve today, as well as still a 'girl', with each being part of her current depression. Her body yearned for that thing of which she had no knowledge, that thing of which no one would discuss with her. She had tried to talk to Helen about the urges she'd begun feeling recently, but the woman who had raised her as her own child refused to admit that she no longer was one.

A chill ran through Enola, raising goose flesh over every inch of her now-shapely body's flawless skin. She rubbed her hands over her arms, then her thighs, trying to the bumps away. Her hands remained atop her bared legs for a moment.

Then, as the fingers of one hand pulled aside the cloth at the meeting of her thighs, the fingers of the other hand slipped under the shorts to find the wet, sensitive flesh there. She drew a deep breath at the feel of her finger tips upon her clitoris, letting it out in a soft moan.

This was nothing new to Enola, of course. In fact, touching herself and -- after some days of practice -- discovering the ecstasy that could come from it had become almost an obsession. She often came here in search of her pleasure, to the top of the island where the Board of Metal Words lay.