Upon a Wishing Flower

by Amy DeMeritt

She straights back up and slowly pulls her hand out of my panties. I watch as she slowly sucks my sex off her fingers, closes her eyes, and moans. When she opens her eyes, she smiles, and dips back inside my panties, making me spasm and moan. Her fingers thrust deep inside me.

  “Oh god!”

  Hannah smiles and thrusts deep and hard again. My hips thrust up against her to meet her hand and Hannah moans. She quickly pulls out of me, and with both hands, she grips my panties and pulls them off of me. Hannah grabs my legs and yanks me down closer to the edge of the table, props my feet on the edge, and dives between my legs.

  I moan and scream out as her mouth starts fervently working over my entire core. I feel my walls stretch and clench down over her fingers as she thrusts three of her long strong digits deep inside me. I moan out and my weight presses into the edge of the massage table as my legs lift my hips against her.

  Between my gasping breaths, moans, and screams, I can hear Hannah moaning and breathing heavily. It reminds me of last night when she sucked the pie cream off her finger. I feel like she is enjoying me as much, if not more, than she enjoyed that pie last night. Her pleasure and enjoyment in making love to me only increases my arousal.

  When I cum, my body is trembling so badly that I feel like I might fall off the table. My legs actually lose the battle to stay up and fall off the edge of the table. Hannah stands between my legs, runs her hands up my thighs to grab my hands, and pulls me up to a sitting position.

  I’m so weak that I nearly fall right back down again and we both let out a small laugh. Hannah holds me up and helps me shuffle closer to the edge so she can wrap her arms around me. While she holds me, we both catch our breath. Being in her arms feels just as good as the amazing orgasms she just delivered me into.

  “Hannah, you are more dangerous than a fat kid left alone in a dessert factory.” She laughs loudly and squeezes me closer. “Are you trying to tell me you enjoyed my insatiable appetite?”

  “Oh, my god, yes. But ‘enjoy’ does not even begin to describe what I felt. What were you doing with those different spots you were pressing against?”

  “It’s a combination of techniques I’ve been wanting to try for a really long time. I wasn’t really sure it would actually work or feel good.”

  “I’m the first woman you have done that to?” Hannah pulls back to look at me with a small smile and nods. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. If you had done that to any other woman, I don’t think she would have let you go.” Hannah smiles broadly and slips a hand between my legs. “Are you saying, if I wasn’t so good down here, you would let me get away?”

  She rubs a gentle circle around my clit, making my head start to become fuzzy again. I bite my bottom lip and shake my head .

  “No. I’m saying, you’ve just converted me from lover to your willing slave. Anything you want is yours.” Hannah’s smile widens and she licks her lips as she pushes two fingers inside me. “Brooke, you are so sexy. I think I could spend all day down here, teasing out every last drop of sweet dew.”

  She pulls her fingers out and instead of lifting them to her own mouth like before, she offers her fingers to me, holding them to my lips. Her mouth curls into an aroused smile as my lips part and my mouth slowly encompasses the full length of her fingers. I use my tongue to lick her clean and pull my mouth off her like her fingers are a sweet popsicle.

  Hannah moans and bites her bottom lip. Blush creeps across her cheeks and her legs press together. I smile and lick my lips. I spread my legs, inviting her to return, and she smiles and inhales deeply. Hannah inserts her fingers again, getting them slick with my sex, and then offers me her hand again.

  I take her hand with one of mine while I cup her between her legs with my other. Hannah gasps as I lick the tip of my tongue up the full length of her slick covered fingers and press into her clit with my other hand.

  Hannah eagerly covers her fingers with my sex again and parts her legs. As I slip my mouth over her fingers, I slide my hand down her pants and panties, into her soaking wet center. Hannah moans loudly and thrusts her hips against my hand. As my hand works between her legs, Hannah keeps dipping hers between my legs and then pushing her fingers into my mouth. When she’s close, Hannah starts to pump her fingers in and out of my mouth earnestly, as if my mouth is going to deliver her into ecstasy. She’s breathing hard and fast. Her hips are moving so fast against my hand I can barely keep pace with her.

  When she cums, she falls forward and I have to catch her with my other arm. Hannah pulls her fingers from my mouth and pulls me into an intensely passionate kiss. While we kiss, I push her jeans off of her hips. I stand up and push them down completely. I moan when I see her long strong legs. She has beautiful, smooth almond cream skin – not quite alabaster white, but not quite sun kissed tan either.

  While we continue to kiss, we slowly make it down the hall towards the spiral staircase to my second level. As I take my first backwards step up the stairs, I bend down and lift her shirt up over her head. I moan again.

  “Hannah, you are so fucking hot.”

  Hannah grins and takes a step up, pushing my back into the stairs handrail. Her generous breasts press into mine and she slips a hand between my legs again.

  Hannah thrusts hard and deep making me gasp. I breathe into her neck, “Are we ever going to make it to my bed?”

  Hannah moans and shuffles a step up the stairs, tugging at my walls to follow her. I gasp and try to step up the stairs with her fingers still deep inside me. Hannah suddenly smiles broadly, licks her lips, and swallows hard. Without speaking, she pulls her hand out of me, turns me to face upstairs, gets behind me, and pushes on my lower back, making me bend forward. Hannah then probes and thrusts in from behind me, pumping in and out of me hard and deep.

  I moan loudly and grab the step above me for support. Hannah gently smacks my ass for encouragement to ascend the stairs, so I take a shaky step with her fingers pumping in and out of me. With each step I take, I’m shakier and slower to progress a step. When I hesitate too long, just enjoying the feeling of the new orgasm building, Hannah delivers a firmer smack to my cheek and thrusts hard inside me.

  By the time I reach the final step, my legs are nearly giving out. I grab onto a handrail at the top of the stairs, spread my legs, and wait for Hannah to finish me off. Instead, she pulls her hand out of me and smacks my ass again .

  “And you didn’t think we could make it up the stairs.” My head drops and I laugh. Hannah comes up close behind me and helps me straighten up while she wraps her arms around me. “I love you, Brooke.”

  “I love you too, Hannah.”

  When we get to my bedroom, Hannah turns her back to my bed and falls backwards, pulling me down on top of her. As we land, the surface of the bed sloshes and churns like waves. Hannah’s eyes get big with surprise and she laughs.

  “I can’t believe you have a waterbed. How old is this thing?”

  “Believe it or not, only a couple years old. They may be an almost thing of the past, but if you look hard enough, you can still find them.”

  “And why did you go on such a wild hunt for a waterbed with all the new bed technology out there?”

  “Did you seriously press pause on our love making, when I’m right on the edge again, just to berate me about my bed choice?” Hannah smiles and kisses my lips. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll finish teasing you about the bed later.”

  Hannah quickly pins my shoulders down and thrusts her hips against mine, making both of us moan.

  Chapter Ten

  Hannah and I fall backwards onto the sloshing waves of my bed panting for air.

  “Ok, I take back my teasing about the waterbed. That was the most amazing sex I’ve ever had. I love this bed.”

  “I’m starting to rethink the bed. It’s stealing my thunder and my ego doesn’t like that.” Hannah laughs and rolls over on top of me. “Baby, this bed is just a placid lake without you in it. You turn it into the perfect storm and ripped my nerves open like spli
ced hot wires.”

  “Ok, ego officially mended.” Hannah smiles and gently kisses my lips. “Do we still have pie left?”

  “We do. Are we going to eat it off of plates like civilized people this time or should I just bring it up here?” Hannah laughs and shakes her head. “I need some time to recover. We’ve been going for hours. I can barely move.”

  “Then you should probably put some clothes on. It’s going to be hard to look at you eating pie while naked and not be able to touch you.”

  “You like my body, huh?”

  “I will quote you from earlier, ‘you are a piece of art’, Hannah.”

  “Not yet, but I could be. ”

  “You would pose nude for me?” She smiles and nods. “I will. But first, I want pie. Come on.”

  Hannah pulls me up from the bed and I give her a pair of pajamas to put on and I put my lounge pants and tee shirt back on from earlier.

  As we make our way back to the living room, we collect Hannah’s clothes I had pulled off of her while we made our way upstairs. Hannah folds and stacks her clothes on top of the massage table and I go to the kitchen to get the pie.

  When I get back to the living room, Hannah is sitting on the lounger of my sofa smiling. I hand her a plate and her smile widens.

  “Thank you. I’m going to have to get my cousin Silvia an amazing gift for Christmas this year. Her recommending you for the spa’s advertising is probably, no, it is, the best thing to ever happen to me.”

  “I sent her a large Twinning’s tea chest this week. It’s her favorite tea.” Hannah smiles and laughs a little. “Are you serious? She will love that. How are you single?”

  “I’m not.” She cocks her head to the side and smiles warmly. “You know what I mean, silly. How do I even have this opportunity to be your girlfriend? You are just so perfect; I can’t believe you haven’t been snatched up already.”

  “I could ask you the same thing, Hannah. Just because you like me, doesn’t mean all women do.”

  “Well, they are crazy. I don’t see what there’s not to like.”

  “Well, I think so too, but they didn’t agree.”

  I smile in a cocky way and Hannah laughs.

  We take a bite of pie and savor its sweet creamy spice on our tongues. My stomach suddenly empties out and I realize for the first time just how hungry I am. We both finish our entire slice before uttering another word. I take her now empty plate and stack it with mine as I stand up .

  “Would you like a drink?”

  “Some hot tea would be nice. Do you need help?” I shake my head and start heading for the kitchen. “Nope, I got it.”

  While I’m waiting for the water to boil, I add a tea bag and a spoonful of sugar to each mug. I lean against the counter and watch the gas flame lick at the cobalt blue enameled steel kettle on the stove.

  I learned at an early age how to use the stove and cook. My mother never had the patience to deal with me and my needs. When I was just five years old, I was cooking a lot of my own meals. I had a wooden step stool that I would push in front of the stove so I could reach to prepare my food. While I cooked breakfast and lunch, my mom worked in her home office.

  I remember the first time I took the initiative to cook my own breakfast. I was sitting on the sofa waiting for my mom to get off a business call. My stomach was painfully empty and my ego was bruised and battered from a scorning my mother gave me after interrupting her because I was hungry. I had watched my mom and babysitters operate the stove and cook many times, so I decided to give it a try.

  I went into the kitchen, and with a little difficulty, I yanked open the fridge, pulled out the eggs, butter, and some breakfast sausage patties. While the sausage sizzled in the pan, I cracked and scrambled the eggs in a bowl. It was only when I was plating the food that my mom finally emerged from her office. I looked at her with a proud smile, and all she said was, “Thank God you’re not an idiot.”

  That was the closest thing to a compliment that I’ve ever received from my mother. When I graduated high school, I was second in my class. I would have been valedictorian, but I had missed a few day’s senior year when I came down with mono. I had missed a test that I wasn’t allowed to make up and it effected my GPA enough to cost me that title. Even then, my mom never gave me any praise or told me she was proud of me or anything.

  I worked hard to earn her approval, but I never received it. I knew early that my mom was a smart successful woman. People respected and admired her. I watched as she interacted with people – always polite and professional, but never personal. I was only ten when I gave up on trying to get any affection from my mom. I only strived for her approval of my achievements after that year.

  It was my tenth birthday and my mom forgot about it – for the second year in a row. The year before, she remembered a week later. For my tenth birthday, she never realized she forgot it and I never told her. She never celebrated or even just mentioned my birthday again. The last “happy birthday” I received from my own mother was when I was nine years old.

  I never went without the material things I needed. My mom always made sure I was well put together with clothes, jewelry, shoes, and always in the latest fashions. However, affection, love, and attention were non-existent. Genetically speaking, she is my mother, but in all other aspects of the word, she is not.

  I always had a sense that I was living in an orphanage built for one. I didn’t have a father and my mother felt more like a dictator than a mom.

  “Brooke?” I look up dazed and unfocused. Hannah is standing in front of me with her hand on my cheek. “Are you ok? The tea kettle was screaming, but you were just staring at it.”

  “It was? I’m sorry, I was just thinking.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “It’s just boring ‘melodramatics’ as my ‘mother’ would call it.” Hannah frowns and gently kisses my lips. “Brooke, nothing you could be feeling or thinking could possibly be described that way. Come on. ”

  She pours the hot water into both mugs, hands me one, and takes my other hand to lead me back out to the living room.

  After taking a few sips of the hot tea, I fill Hannah in on what I was thinking about. While I talk, she holds my hand and strokes the top of it with her thumb.

  “I doubt that she will ever reach out to me again. It’s not in her character. She only maintained a sort of relationship out of habit and obligation.”

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine growing up like that. My parents are the exact opposite. They are more like the parents on the Brady Bunch – very smothering with their love and affection. It always kind of drove me crazy, but now I feel horrible for thinking that way. Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “How did you learn to love and be kind and affectionate when you didn’t have any examples to teach you? We’ve only known each other for a few weeks, but the time seems ineffectual to the way you make me feel.”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ve always tried to treat people the way I wish I had been treated. I’ve always read a lot too, so I guess I picked up a few things from all the good examples in the many books I escaped into since I was very young.”

  “That makes my heart ache. Have you ever tried to talk to your mom about this?”

  “On a few occasions. The last ‘heart to heart’ I attempted with her was when we fought over my college major. She wanted me to go for business and I wanted to go for photography. I tried to get her to see me, just for once, as an individual with my own hopes and dreams, and not just a soulless puppet like she treated me. She flat out told me to stop talking and stop being so ungrateful. I should have walked away from her that day and never looked back, but I was still clinging to the idiotic hope that maybe one day my own mother might come around. ”

  “Hope is never idiotic, Brooke. Without hope, regardless of how seemingly impossible the scenario is, we would cease to do anything and would wither away. I’m not saying your mother will e
ver give you what you need, but your hope in receiving it will not be fruitless. Your hope in it gives you strength and makes you a better person. And that, in my opinion, is a good enough reason to keep hoping.”

  “This hope is exhausting though. Do you think I should contact her if she doesn’t contact me?”

  “I do. Your mother may be a very smart business woman, but she is not smart emotionally. She needs your help to grow in that department.”

  “I don’t know if I have the energy to keep being rejected constantly and treated like a lifeless doll by her. I’ll think about it.”

  “Has she ever seen your photography?”

  “Aside from what is on my walls, no. I invited her to every one of my exhibits in college and a few I was invited to show in after graduation, but she never came to any of them. She always claimed to have ‘prior obligations’ that she couldn’t get out of. I lied once to see what she was really doing. I followed her and she went home, sat on her favorite chair by the window, and drank wine all night while reading a book. She had told me that she had an important meeting with a client that had to be rearranged three times already so she couldn’t miss it.”

  “Oh, Brooke. Baby, I am so sorry. I was thinking that maybe if she had taken even the slightest interest in your photography that maybe there was…”

  “Hope?” I supply the word for her since she cut herself short. She frowns and nods in a sad sullen way. “If she contacts me, I’ll believe there is a possibility in the point of having any of that in her, but if she doesn’t… ”

  “If she doesn’t, it’s her loss.” Hannah cuts me off before I can finish. “Brooke, I’m here for you no matter what you decide and what you need. Can I ask you something about your father?” I nod. “Have you ever tried to find him?”

  “No. When he left, he didn’t just walk out on my mom; he walked out on me too. I already have one parent that doesn’t seem to care about me except when it’s convenient for her business success; I don’t need another cold parent in my life. I thought about trying to find him my first year of college. I thought that maybe he could have changed after all these years and maybe he would like a second chance at being my father. But then I realized, he has had eighteen years to show he has grown into a better human being and has yet to reveal that by reaching out to me.”