O, swear not by the moon, the fickle moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circle orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable
William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Naked woman on balcony by moonlight I was certainly not in the mood to concentrate on abstruse theoretical problems just at the moment; I had a much more urgent need to attend to. I ran my fingers through my blonde hair, retrieved my robe from the floor and slipped it back on, then made my way downstairs. By now, Selena Rosa house was quiet, the occupants in bed and asleep or, in Kathryn's case, energetically engaged with sleep far from her mind.

In the main hall there was a large dresser of dark polished wood which extended almost the entire length of the room. By long-standing tradition, the dresser houses that communal property not more sensibly housed in the barns or the kitchens. I opened a cupboard near to one end and took out an ornately inlaid wooden chest. The veneers on the lid had been skillfully formed into abstract patterns which would suddenly seem powerfully erotic when viewed at a particular phase of the moon. It was the house toy box, containing a variety of sex toys and dildoes intended for just such a contingency: when a women in heat was unable to be satisfied any other way.

I closed the cupboard door and made my way quietly up the stairs to my room. The corridors were dark and slightly stuffy, more noticeable after the fresh air on the balcony. I was intercepted by June, who was standing just inside the doorway of her bedroom which was along the same wing of Selena Rosa House as my own. She had both door and window open to catch the cool evening breeze, and wore a dark-colored silk gown which had made her all but invisible in the gloom.

June is perhaps my best friend of all my sisters in Selena Rosa house. She is tiny, almost elfin in appearance, with small hands and feet and breasts, and with paler skin than most, which set off her long straight dark hair. She recognized the box immediately, of course, and her face softened to an expression of sympathy.

"I thought you were with John tonight?"

"Obviously not," I replied, lifting the box in mute acknowledgement of my plight, adding, "Kathryn was there first."

She smiled compassionately, moving forward to stand in front of me, looking up into my eyes.

"Let me help you, in your need," she said softly, "As best I can."

She gently took the box from my hand and led the way down the corridor to my own room.

Although she did not feel the heat of sexual passion as I did at this phase of the moon, June seemed determined to help me take the edge off my own need. Once inside my bedroom with the door closed, she placed the toy box on the chest beside my bed. Then she turned to me, a wry smile on her face.

"You won't be needing this, my dear."

She helped me slip off my robe, let it fall to the floor, then she arranged the pillows of my bed. She motioned for me to sit and then lie back against them. One touch of her warm hand on my thigh was enough for me to spread my legs, a moan escaping my lips and I reached above my head to grip the polished staves of the brass bed-head.

June kissed my breasts and my belly, softly at first, then harder as she could sense the urgency of my desires. For a few moments she licked the soft folds of my labia; I had no doubt she could taste my wetness, feeling my readiness.

Then she stood and opened the toy box. I could not see from where I lay, but I knew that the inside of the box was padded with felt and sheepskin. Packed carefully inside were small earthenware jars of rare and fragrant oils, and a collection of phalluses of carved and smoothly sanded wood in a variety of different shapes and sizes - most of them old but well cared for, and all polished to a high sheen from frequent use.

"Which one do you need?" June enquired softly.

"Harry," I replied, referring to the largest of the three anatomically-correct phalluses that nested in the center of the chest.

She held up the massive toy in one hand and looked at it dubiously.

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, yes," I gasped.

June removed the stopper from one of the little bottles and spread a few drops of oil onto the intricately carved dildo with her fingers. The last of the oil she rubbed into the lips of my vagina, her fingertips flicking expertly over my already swollen clitoris. I cupped my own breasts and squeezed my nipples - now dark and hard - then, as June ran the tip of the phallus between my oiled lips, I cried out involuntarily, breaking the night-time silence of the house. She slid the smooth dildo inside me, then out again, pumping me with a steady rhythm.

"More," I cried out, "Harder!"

June complied with my demands. I could feel the tensions in my belly and between my legs build, more and more tight and demanding. My back arched and my breathing was harsh and ragged; I was so close, so close. In a final spasm, I reached the climax I so desperately needed, a wild scream escaped my lips and my head thumping against the pillows she had so carefully arranged for me.

When my body was finally at rest, June gently withdrew the dildo, now moistened with my own juices as well as the lubrication she had applied earlier.

"Sleep well, dear," June whispered softly.

I was barely aware of her drawing up the bedclothes over me and kissing me lightly on the forehead like a mother kissing a child. She drifted quietly out of the room, pausing only to turn down the lights. Immediately, I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

I awoke early, wakened by the sunlight streaming in through the window; in my urgency, I had forgotten to close the drapes last night. The box of toys still was still open on my bedroom chest and the sex toy was nestling against my hand. I was, I soon discovered, still wet from June's kind attentions last night.

I threw off the bedclothes and slipped Harry into my opening with one hand, forced its hardness deep into me, while rubbing my aching and oh-so-sensitive clit with two fingers of my other hand. In moments, I came again, the roaring of the urges in my head suddenly drowned out by my own moans and cries. I lay still for several minutes, Harry the dildo still deep inside me, until I felt my muscles contract, squeezing the toy so that it slid out onto the sheet.

I felt clear-headed, or at least a lot more clear-headed, my sexual passion damped down and banked for now but ready to flare up again. I could attend to other needs: breakfast to assuage the hunger in my stomach and then to the library to satisfy my more intellectual curiosity. Thanks to June's attentions, I felt I could apply at least some portion of my attention to the intriguing questions Kathryn's bitchy remarks had raised in my mind.

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