Night With Mommy

by Sofia Connor

  Illusions of me, rubbing against a body, one of incredible softness and beauty with just one scary feature: it was me. I always enjoyed looking at myself and I am beautiful, but it was very different to actually do it with someone looking like yourself.

  It was talking to me. Though I could not hear in my dreams, all I did was feel. And cum.

  My consciousness tried to crawl out of the dream. It took I while to let it completely go, but finally I woke up in my bed. I found myself in a bed soaked, the thin sheets humid and fixed against my skin. The air was damp too, like steamy water. Like sex.

  Again not sure what happened I opened my eyes. The darkness already covered my room and the disclosure of my eyes didn't add any information about my whereabouts and physical status, all I had were my feeling hearing and smell. And a dry mouth, what you truly wouldn't expect after making out with a person made of water.

  My ear picked up the moving of sheets next to me. Feelings of tenderness and love for whatever it was that satisfied me, made me hope it was her. A heartbeat skipped as I finally asked her what has been going through my mind a few times now.

  "What's happening?"

  A moan went through the room, through me. Lust for that voice and for a body to love woke up in me. Intense idea's of sex and moistened labia, tongues swirling and lips dripping, fists clamping in sheets...

  "What is happening... What happening is: I am satisfying you."

  "Why?"

  A touch went over me, stroking my body with a gentle coolness leaving a cold tightening feeling.

  "I like you, and I know you would like my attention."

  "Just for sex?"

  The fingertips moved to my breasts, for the first time taking a more solid form and squeezing a kind sign of empathy.

  "I want to be everything you want me to be."

  LOVE

  It was a feeling holding such an intense grasp on me that felt like my innards would rip and spill. It came from me, though, not from the other woman. She felt familiar inside me already, I would know if it was her. This really was me, begging for this chance for true love.

  I tried to say it to her, but my breath got stuck on the way out.

  This wasn't like me, I was introverted and solitaire, I have never ever felt like I needed someone, all I needed for an extra was a toy ones in a while. The rest was all on me, I am beautiful a paradigm of perfection. Obviously narcissistic and not stupid enough to refute that fact. I accepted myself as being this kind of independent.

  A finger touched my lips, telling me without words that she already knew. I smiled but still with a huge knot in my stomach I felt a sob coming up.

  "I'll be there for you."

  A soft glowing light came over the room, every inch illuminated with a beautiful blue glow. Finally capable of seeing the body next to me, I turned around aching for her.

  She must be beautiful.

  And she was. Shockingly, in multiple ways. Her body was emitting the comforting light, her eyes and mouth a sensual shade darker. But the most surprising thing was her face and body. Very soft and slender, nice, perky c-cup, full round bottom, and a face as if I was looking into a mirror. Her looking like me didn't unsettle me at all, everything already seemed so unreal. She was, with no doubt, capable of something like this. Shape shifting.

  She can glow, is made of water, why not metamorphous.

  "You're..." I tried to talk, but the girl didn't let me. She bended over and placed her lips on mine. Silenced I wrapped my arms around her, she was amazing, comforting me with... well: me. Enjoying her body warmth and affection I moaned in ecstasy, sad I was not complete capable of telling her how I felt, but an infinite more happy that she made me feel this way.

  She touched my chest, just between me breasts, feeling my heart, while her lips separated and slit in a tongue. I welcomed it as if someone dear to me had come home after a long time, and tightened my grip on her, rubbing my body against hers (mine?) and fondled the softness that was her breast. Her softness was entrancing and was only interrupted by the nipples poking my hand and gushes of water flowing from her body.

  She excreted the water when I made her shiver, when I plucked her nipples with my finger or moved my clit against hers. She seemed to really like the grinding, moans coming from voids I couldn't see, but were everywhere. My name whispered inside my head and multiplying the feeling in my lower abdomen. Grinding against wetness I started to clam myself around her, pushing myself harder, grinding more furious against her. Aching to come again and willing to share it with the beauty on top of me, I screamed for an orgasm.

  She allowed me to come, though it was obvious she wasn't near her release. I wasn't aware of it at the moment, I was just too busy with the intense flow of heat raging through my body, pushing out an orgasm that almost hurt my body. Every muscle tensed and felt like a part of the climax. Pushing further the end.

  Again I came, grunting indefinable but with great relieve I slammed my body in the mass of water riding me, the tension flexing my muscles made me almost bite her tongue, still showing her agility in my mouth. But she kept grinding.

  She talked in my head, she talked in my body, her words relighting the fire of a coming orgasm in my pussy. The goddess didn't let me down, she shoved me up my soaked bed in a open position and after grinding me she lifted herself. She seemed to flow in the air, shortly loosing logical proportions and moved herself down to my belly.

  The agile tongue really did some work around my bellybutton while my slender body moved in arousal. I lifted my hips in a slow rhythm in sync with my sighs and giggles.

  Her lips kissed down from my abdomen to where my hair started. Then a soft kiss on my outer labia, crushing my feelings to a warm, pink pulp of love and orgasms.

  She whirled her tongue ones over my clit, slit a finger inside me and while it hooked itself on my right spot her tongue went on stroking my sensitivity.

  She was rough inside my pussy, much rougher than when fingering me in the tub. I liked it. It made me come so hard! Together with a suck on my clit I contracted my muscles tightening around her finger and leaked a little of my partners fluids. I did not stop cumming though, she kept moving and pounding, sliding extra fingers in every time I came, making me come faster and faster, her tongue and lips like a whirlpool on my pussy...

  Something exploded behind my eyes, I did not faint, for I felt her let go of me, leaving me with one last euphoric orgasm. I dumbly smiled while again black blobs blurred my vision.

  A complete, calm feeling poured into me with the void.

  Floating in a watery emptiness with no objects to identify me with.

  Am I dead?

  "Of course not, sweet one."

  I suddenly fell, through the void, but with my face pointed to the opposite direction of me falling I couldn't see where I was going. Still not in any form of panic, just peace, I enjoyed the wind and the game of the elemental pleasuring me.

  You are amazing.

  A lighthearted, loving laughter soared through the space.

  "Lover, let me show you how amazing I am."

  I swallowed in an anxious moment where the gravity almost pulled out my organs via my back.

  Everything went lighter and the wind around me could have been a thunderstorm, so loud and scary.

  Even though angst finally ran through me, very cold, very unpleasant, I kept my trust in the strange deity playing with me like a doll. A doll falling from the sky, finally seeing where she was going, a doll spinning towards waves of a vast ocean.

  Some people say, that if you fall on water with a velocity high enough, you would experience it as crashing into concrete. How scared I was 50 feet from the surface, with that saying in my mind; that's how relieved I felt then feet lower. The sea took its arms out for me, like it wanted to hug me. In a transcended state of mind I tried to hug the ocean, begging it to make me feel like it did in my bathroom. The tentacles of the sea lightly touched me, caressing my body with the cool wetness and guided m
e to the surface. The roaring greatness of the mass of water overcame me. Pulled under I felt one with the sea, with every sea covering earths soil, with every drop of water. I suddenly understood things I could never have thought of on my own.

  She helped me understand so much, so much about life, love and sex. Not just that one day; for the rest of my life. She didn't stop loving me when all other humans were gone, even when the global streams of the oceans stopped.

  She talked to me and made me feel loved and I loved her back.

  The End.

  A Taste

  The red automobile in front of the apartment had on its trunk a bumper sticker, among others, which read, "Want a taste of religion: Lick a witch."

  "Don't mind if I do," Aidan thought as he stepped up to the apartment's wooden door.

  It was three short knocks on the door.

  "Excuse me, miss," He said with an enticing smile to the brunette who came to the door. "Do you happen to own the red car that is parked out front, there?"

  "Yes. Why?" Her smile was friendly, but terse.

  "Well, this is quite forward I know, but I saw the bumper sticker, and thought 'Don't mind if I do.' Seeing you here has confirmed it for me." He looked her over, but didn't leer.

  Her form was rather enticing. Her straight, shoulder-length hair framed her face nicely. Her bright blue eyes stood out well beneath her dark hair and against her pale flesh. She was wearing a black top, with a low v-neck that showed just the right amount of cleavage and fit snugly around her ample breasts, and some rather short denim shorts, out from which her long, pale legs struck boldly.

  "That is very forward." Her voice was smooth and mellow, and she stood a mere three inches shorter than him.

  "Yes. But I am quite skilled with my tongue."

  She blushed.

  It began to rain as he stood at her door.

  "Well, come in then."

  Forward though it was, he kissed her deeply, as he pulled her out of her apartment and into the rain, closing the door behind them. He moved his hands to embrace the small of her back and softly traced his fingers on the skin he made to show beneath the shirt.

  She didn't fight. As she felt his fingers on her skin, she lifted her arms above her head. A clear suggestion that he should remove the shirt.

  He didn't make her wait. As he removed her shirt, he spun her round and began to kiss the small of her back. Softly, gently, slowly. He traced his tongue up her spine, inevitably reaching her nape. He began to kiss her neck more fervently then and moved his hands to remove her shorts.

  She kicked them off furiously as they fell about her ankles. She ran the fingers of her left hand through his wet hair as he kissed her, and with her right she unclasped her damp bra, slipping it off one arm and then the other.

  The rain fell harder around them.

  He slid his hands around and up her belly, touching lightly as he went, and grasped her breasts firmly, playing at her nipples gently with his thumbs.

  "My intent was to lick you," he whispered in her ear, nibbling at it.

  His hands left her breasts and made their way firmly down her belly and into her panties. He slid his fingers around to her hips, and began to push her panties down, following them with his tongue. When he had them nearly off, and wrapped nicely around her ankles, he stood and bent her toward the closed door. Her firm, round ass bent well out away from the door; rain dripped down it to her exposed womanhood. He positioned his tongue just above her clitoris and began to lick. He traced her lips gently, and then began to suck on her clit. He could taste her religion well enough. It tasted slightly like rain.

  Her legs began to quiver as the muscles tightened. Her ecstasy was pronounced with a distant crack of thunder. He lapped up every bit of stray juice like a diligent cat.

  Then he removed his wet pants and pressed his member firmly against her warmth. She did not protest as she felt him slide into her. He began to rock her hips back and forth, and she felt him slide deeper and deeper into her with each passive thrust. She moaned audibly as he began to nibble at her neck. He covered her mouth fearing the neighbors may hear over the rain. She forced herself onto him, pushing her warmth to the base of his cock. She wanted to feel all of him deep inside her. He began to thrust harder. It was all she could do not to scream in pleasure. Harder. Faster. Harder. Faster. She could feel him brush against her cervix. She could feel his right hand grasping her left breast as his arm wrapped round her. She wanted more. Then she felt it. Soft at first. Merely a whisper against her inner walls. He brought her well-shaped ass to rest firmly against his pelvis as his shaft grew inside her and began to pulse.

  Aidan pushed her gently off of him when he was finished, brought his pants back around his waist, and left her naked in the rain.

  The End.

  The Shadow People

  Savannah opened her eyes and stretched languidly under her weighted comforter. The sun pierced through the slightly parted curtains and left a thick haze over her sleepy mind. Rolling over to her alarm clock, she was abruptly stopped by the shocking sight of the strange man lying beside her. He rested atop her blankets, trapping her under their encumbrance, with a lazy arm thrown across his eyes. Signs of stubble were appearing on his rigid chin, his russet hair grown out to his shoulders in tight curls. Long legs and thick muscular arms took up the majority of the space on the small twin bed, and Savannah suddenly felt cramped in her tiny place beside him.

  Tentatively, she reached out one pianist finger to poke him in the shoulder. After a moment of stillness, she repeated the action. The big bulk beside her started shaking gently with amused laughter, and unexpectedly rolled over, tucking her tiny body under his much larger one. She squealed in mock fear and giggled loudly underneath his heavy weight, squirming in a false attempt to throw him off. His laughter became louder until it seemed to fill every crack and crevice in the room. Suddenly, his hands were upon her. Strong hands with long fingers, gripping her ribcage and causing her to go breathless with giggles. His hands ventured lower, thumbs pressing to the crease where her legs met with the triangle nestled between her thighs. Savannah squealed and bucked beneath him, forcing them both to fall off the bed, landing unceremoniously on the floor in a tangle of blankets and limbs.

  "Savvy," he gasps between snorts. "You really need to get that looked at. It's unnatural to be so damned ticklish." Savannah cannot respond to his teasing, and she tries to gulp air in to her lungs. After a while their laughter dies down, and they lie together in complete silence. Savannah marvels at the peace she feels, lying with this man and just being perfectly still. He has always been the closest thing to family for Savannah, as she never knew her parents. Her foster mom was absolutely horrific, the type who adopted seven children so that the state would send her money for her tequila Fridays. Mrs. Ashford was always raving on about demons and night walkers, telling stories with such vivid details that Savannah spent many nights awake with terror. Last night was no different, her mind replaying the things it conjured up during Ashford's drunken stupor. Flashes of dark creatures with twisted limbs creep into her mind, and Savannah shakes her head in an attempt to clear it. It's unfair that even now, when she is safe and content in his arms, she still lives in fear of the monsters under the bed.

  "Thank you for staying with me last night. I know you must be getting tired of me by now." Savannah whispers in to his shoulder, hiding her face in shame. She feels his lips on her head, laying a kiss in her tangle of flaxen hair.

  "I will never tire of you, don't be so derisible. You know I love you sprog." He squeezes her in his arms to hold her closer, as if chasing away her thoughts. Savannah hates it when he calls her sprog, a nickname she acquired for being the youngest of the seven children. Ten years later and he still calls her the kid. It annoys her, but at the same time makes her feel happy, due to the familiarity of it. Perhaps she will miss it once he's gone.

  "Chase, what do you think happiness feels like?"

  For a long time he does
not answer. Then he rolls them over on the floor and tucks her into the fold of his body, sheltering her from the crisp morning air. He squeezes again, keeping silent all the while. Finally, as Savannah begins to drift off to sleep once more, he whispers in her ear. "I think it feels like this."

  "Then why are you so eager to leave me?" She says the words before she can stop them, and immediately wishes that she had the power to take them back. It is unfair of her to wish this hell on him, selfish of her to ask him to stay. But that is what she has just done.

  "I'm not leaving you, Savvy. I'll be waiting, and as soon as you're eighteen, I'll come back for you. I promise." He nuzzles the curvature of her neck, breathing her her familiar scent and marvelling at the smoothness of her skin. "I won't ever leave you," he swears. "Don't you trust me?" He can feel her tense in his arms, but he will never understand her aversion to trusting people. And not just people, but him.

  The nightmares have taken over her life now, real blending with the make believe in her waking hours, and trust isn't an emotion she readily feels. Especially not for Chase, not after what her mind's eye has seen. But how could she tell him that? After all, he has only ever showed kindness to her. How could she explain her fear towards him, when it doesn't even make sense to herself?

  "I trust you," she lies, the words singing her tongue on the way out. "I won't leave you either." Savannah says this as an afterthought, not really understanding why it felt so important to say.

  Chase laughs. "Course you won't." But there is something in his voice, something that wasn't there before. However, before Savannah can ask him about it, there is a loud bang right outside the door, followed shortly by Mrs. Ashford's wailing. Suddenly, the door swings open with such force it nearly comes off its hinges.

  "Jasny zachrance!" She bursts in to the room, blood caking her face and hair, fingernails covered in grime. "Run!" She grabs Savannah by her tangled hair and lifts her from the floor, ignoring her thrashing in pain. "Musi bezet, zustante v bezpeci!" Savannah can see Chase rising from the floor, anger and panic evident in his eyes. She herself does not feel angry, or even afraid. She is only confused. Mrs. Ashford rambling in an unknown language is nothing new to the foster children, even physical violence is a common occurrence, especially for Savannah, who often encouraged the old drunks wrath. But where has all this blood come from?