Dystopian Girls 4

by Rodzil LaBraun

  DYSTOPIAN

  GIRLS

  4

  By Rodzil LaBraun

  © 2020 Rodzil LaBraun

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names and locations are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. Any references to real people or locations is used fictitiously.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  CHAPTER ONE:

  I woke up totally out of breath. Another bad dream. They took my wife again.

  I knew that I have multiple wives now, but the first one was very special to me. She was the girl that took me from being completely alone in this depressing diseased world to being happy. She was also perfect in my eyes. The fact that she could sense my feelings, almost know what I was thinking on a regular basis, ended up bringing us closer, not pushing me away. I'm sure that had as much to do with me as it did with her.

  I was raised to be a good boy. In a metropolitan area like Washington DC, not many young men were. Big city life was an appallingly selfish atmosphere. It was sadly a daily bombardment of assholes in a me-first world. But then it got much worse.

  Even the guys with their heads up their asses held the door open for the little old lady occasionally, when people were watching. If they saw a baby duck, they would post a selfie with it on social media. Not stomp the life out of it. You don't really know how bad it can get until everyone, everywhere was fighting on a daily basis just to stay alive. A survivor had to stay on constant alert, mentally and physically.

  That was how it was. Before Alexa.

  I was embarrassingly shy around beautiful women before. At first, being alone with her made it even worse. But she was generously patient with me. Spending all of our time together accelerated our relationship rapidly through the courtship stages. By the time that other women came into the picture, she was ready to be my wife. I gladly welcomed her into that role.

  I told myself over and over again, that I only needed her, no one else. The other girls were very nice, but I could do without them and still be happy. The way that Alexa pushed them to keep a distance from me contributed to that mindset, no doubt. Riley, though, was different. Devoted, supportive, unassuming, very sexy in her own angelic way. She was the perfect second wife. Once she was accepted by my first love, I couldn't help but think that I could have even more. But Alexa wanted to squash that idea.

  I could understand why, of course. I didn't want to share her with another man. If I caught her having sex with another guy, I would probably leave her. I would be devastated for sure. Why would she need someone else when I loved her so much? With that in mind, it was a big step for her to allow me to have sexual intercourse with Jada, then Riley. I should be content to have just those three, right?

  The bedroom was very dark, the door to the living room fully closed. Thick curtains blocked out most of the light from outside. Only what could sneak around the fabric barrier to announce the presence of floating dust particles told me that it was daytime out there. I slowed my breathing, calmly trying to separate nightmare from reality. It wasn't always easy for me.

  Alexa was taken from me. I remembered that now. That was reality. I had to accept it. The pain returned to my chest like an anvil that already been there but held in place by a spotter. Then it was released suddenly. The pressure on my lungs had been a constant since I noticed her missing, so it did not come as a huge surprise when it threatened to take my breath away.

  Then I looked beside me, and my heart nearly stopped. She was there, right there, in the bed with me.

  I recognized her slender shoulders. The exact curve of her petite upper frame. The lovely slope of her sexy hip. The contour to her thigh, her waist. Despite the shadowy environment, was unmistakably Alexa.

  I warily placed my hand on her slight midriff, half expecting it to pass straight through like a ghost. The slumbering beauty before me could not possibly be real. But she was there in the flesh. I could feel her. She even stirred at my touch. Her long straight hair was spread graciously across the pillow, several strands in disarray caught by the dim, filtered light.

  “Alexa?" I choked out her name, the last syllable soliciting for an uncontrollable sob. Could it be her? Was it really all a bad dream? A horrific nightmare. My heart started beating again, pounding against my chest and the imaginary anvil on top of it.

  "Hmmm," she replied sleepily. I woke her. She’s alive!

  "Oh my God!" I whispered. "I had the worst dream." Confusion sent another wave across my mind. I had just established that it wasn’t a dream.

  She sluggishly turned toward me, dropping the near shoulder to reveal more silhouette. The outline of her gorgeous face in the darkness, lips slightly parted, eyes blinking slowly. The most anticipated sight of my life. My vision blurred.

  "Oh, Alexa." I exhaled much of my pain in a single breath, vomiting out the toxins killing my soul.

  "Oh no," she replied as she continued to roll toward me, regaining her senses. "I'm sorry."

  Her beautiful face came into view, a severely pained expression barely visible. Something was wrong for sure. I’d made a mistake.

  It was not her after all. It was not my lovely wife. I sucked in another breath, the air filling my lungs much colder than the previous. I fought back a cough and a sneeze at the same time, both masking the real pain. I held that bitter breath in defiance.

  I was wrong, though. It was my wife, just not my first one. Stella's body and hair were so incredibly similar to Alexa's. It was easy to make that mistake in the fuzzy environment, my senses still dulled. My lungs finally deflated as reality set in once again, my hopes dashed.

  It wasn't fair of me to do that to Stella. She had been nothing but the sweetest girl since the day that I met her. In Alexa's absence she was doing all that she could do to make me feel better. Helping me cope. Her similarity to my missing wife was a double-edged sword.

  "I'm so sorry," Stella told me in her usual soft voice. "I didn't mean to.... Riley said to sleep in with you this morning. She didn't want you to wake up alone. I didn't want that either. I'm so sorry, Mason."

  Suddenly, the pain I caused her in my error reduced my own. That was one way that my remaining women were helping me. They missed Alexa too, but they felt worse for me than they did themselves.

  "Don't be sorry," I told her, gaining control of my voice. They were both right. I didn't want to wake up alone. The rollercoaster ride of early wakefulness was better spent with a loved one. "You've done nothing wrong. I just woke up, that is all. I'm fine now."

  I smiled at her and she tried her best to reflect it right back. Her concern over me was preventing her from doing so convincingly. I saw more worry than happiness, especially when I just stared at her for a moment. I was about to kiss her all over her face when I still thought that it was Alexa. Some of that desire still remained, but I needed to clear the image of my first wife from my brain first. I couldn't kiss Stella and pretend that it was someone el
se. It wasn't in me, and she certainly deserved better.

  I think that I surprised her when I leaned in for the good morning smooch. She kissed me back, but hesitantly. Pulling back afterward I saw something like fear take over her expression. Instead of only being concerned about me, she was starting to worry about herself. She was in my bed, but not emotionally prepared for what might happen.

  She probably knew full well that I was fond of morning sex. I often woke up physically ready for it. Conversations about my early day friskiness had been plentiful when they didn’t know that I was nearby. Since Stella was still a virgin, the fear was understandable.

  "Don't worry, sweetie," I told her, caressing the soft flawless skin on her cheek. "Your virginity is still safe. Just lay your head on my chest. I need to hold you for a while."

  Stella's relief was so obvious that it was almost offensive. I had to tell myself that it wasn’t just me that she didn’t want inside her. Poor girl. She laid her head on my chest as I asked, and I kissed her slowly on the top of her head. Her hair smelled like green apples. Apparently, she was using a new shampoo. She must have finished the one with the scent of cherry vanilla. I really liked that smell.

  Looking past the light brunette head of my newest wife I spotted the sheet tented from my morning wood. With her limited view she was probably staring right at it. I was unusually embarrassed by it.

  "Can I do something for you?" she asked timidly without changing the position of her face. I knew what she meant.

  "No, I'm okay," I replied.

  "It looks like it needs attention," she said, her schoolgirl persona coming out. I smiled. That was a very funny statement coming from her. When she eventually looked up at me with that innocent face, I could tell that she was being serious. "Can I take care of it for you?" she asked. When I began to shake my head, she told me, "I want to take care of it for you, Mason."

  I wanted to calm down, allow myself to wake up and smell the bitter scent of life without Alexa. Come to terms with grim reality. Get on with my day, maybe accomplish something that mattered. I didn't particularly want sex, despite what my body was saying. I was a young man. That kind of plea from my willy happened a lot. I was about to tell her no again when I felt her hand slide down my abdomen under the sheet and make contact. It was the first time that she had touched my penis. I was naked under the sheet. That should have been no surprise to me. I usually slept in the nude these days.

  I sucked in a breath when she put her soft hand around it, but it was nothing compared to the air that she gulped. Her eyes got big when she looked back at me. When I laughed, she smiled at me.

  "Teach me," she pleaded. "Teach me how to stroke it."

  "You don't have to do that, Stella."

  "I want to," she said. "I want to make you happy. I want to make it happy." She gave it a gentle tug.

  I realized then that this was as much about her as it was about me. That was always important to remember in a sexual situation, though much less so with a handjob. She needed to feel like a competent wife, though. Stella and Riley were all over me with their care, but I had no sexual release in the last couple days.

  I pulled the sheet down to expose the view. Her tiny little hand around my shaft was swaying my decision. I had been fantasizing about any and all sexual acts with Stella for a while. If she needed this, I should probably oblige. For her sake, I told myself.

  I slid my hand down her bare back under her t-shirt to the waistline of her panties. "Let me do something for you first," I whispered.

  "Please," she said, gazing into my eyes. "Not today. I'm not ready for that yet. Let's start with just my hand, if that is okay."

  I nodded compliance and watched as she began tugging on it. Her grip was a little too tight, and it felt like she was going to rip the skin off the base, detach it from my balls.

  "Gentler, please," I requested. I was never one to give instructions to a sexual partner. Until recent developments, I was delighted to get whatever I could. My existing lovers all had enough skill that no guidance was ever needed.

  She loosened her grip considerably. Too much, in fact. Then her hand was just brushing over the skin, not moving it up and down the muscle. The only stimulation that I was getting from that technique was the light touch of her hand against the tip. That would not be enough to do the job, despite the excitement of having this beautiful young lady’s hand on me.

  I patiently helped her find the right amount of squeeze, as well as the perfect position to bring me the most pleasure. She was noticeably grateful for the help. For a little while I just laid there and let her stroke me, enjoying the moment. She was watching her work and only occasionally glancing at me to make sure that she wasn't screwing it up. But it didn't feel quite right. Not her technique, no that was fine after the adjustments. It was the general feel of the thing. It was what I imagined it would be like to have a nurse milk a semen specimen out of you. Satisfying sexually, but distant emotionally.

  "Kiss me," I whispered.

  She turned toward me and placed one of her soft kisses on my lips. In that situation, it would not be enough either. Both of my hands were free, so I used them to pull her face into mine, slowly kissing her more passionately. She was responding well to it, even opening her mouth when I pried at it with my tongue. After a while she was getting the hang of it and wiggled her tongue into my mouth as well. Unfortunately, it caused her to lose focus on the task at hand.

  "Keep stroking," I told her delicately.

  "Oh, sorry," she answered as she did her best to match the pace and technique that she was using before. She was struggling with it since she could not concentrate. But that was okay. Her mouth on mine was helping me getting even more excited.

  She was nearly gasping for air as I forced my mouth on to hers. She was having a difficult time keeping up but doing her best. When she began lightly groaning into my face, I knew that she too was having a good time. When her slim hand converted into a kung fu grip from her passion, I didn't say anything. I let her keep going, squeezing the life out of my erection. And it worked out well, somehow. I climaxed not long after that.

  My orgasm face scared her at first, I could tell. Then the additional lubrication on her hand cued her in. She watched me with amazement as she completed her first successful handjob. Her hand kept going at an uneven, jerky pace until I forced it to stop, but my body was as stiff as a board for a few more seconds.

  "Thank you," I whispered, once I could.

  "Did I do okay?" she asked sincerely. How could she not know how much that I enjoyed it?

  "You did a fantastic job," I told her. Her big smile felt as good for my heart as my release did for my balls. "It was wonderful. Can I ask you a favor?"

  "What?" she asked, concern on her face. I saw the way that she was holding her right hand that I had just dirtied. Maybe she was expecting some freaky request like something a girl would do in a porn movie. No, I couldn't ask for anything like that from such a sweet human being.

  "Can I see your pussy?"

  "What? Why?" Her modest, schoolgirl persona was reappearing.

  "I showed you mine," I told her, smiling. "Show me yours."

  "Really?" she asked, not completely comfortable with the idea, but probably weighing it as much better than other things that I could have requested. I nodded as I tugged on the waistband of her panties.

  She warily climbed up onto her knees. Debating on wiping her hand on the front of her shirt, then deciding against it, she then carefully pulled it over her head, clearly trying not to get my gift to her in her hair. She was not wearing a bra. In my experience most women preferred not to wear one to bed, but with someone so timid, I wouldn’t have been surprised to at least see an undershirt. I was checking out her young breasts in the shadow of her body until I saw her grab the top of her underpants. She had larger nipples than I expected. They looked like they belonged in a breastfeeding ad.

  My eyes had adjusted to the lighting conditions and was able to make
out that the crotch of her light blue cotton panties was much darker than the rest of the material.

  "Is it wet?" I asked.

  "Yeah," she replied in a whisper, mildly embarrassed. "I just jerked off my husband. That was very exciting for me. My privates are soaked."

  She pulled down the front without removing the band from her hips, giving me a lengthy flash of her virgin pussy. It was completely hairless, moisture glistening on those puffy, pink lips.

  "Did you shave it?" I asked, delighted with the sight.

  "Riley told me to shave it for you," she said. "She said that is how you like it."

  "It is. Thank you." I considered touching it. However, I knew that Stella wanted to take things slow. She had accomplished a lot already for one day. I should let it be for now.

  "I want you to be happy with me," she told me.

  "Oh, I am, Stella. I am very happy with you."

  CHAPTER TWO: