Message-ID: <2651eli$9708051402@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "Graham Wheeler" Subject: "Sarulandra" (M/F, cons, first story) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <199708042202.SAA18190@fh101.infi.net> THIS STORY CONTAINS MATERIAL THAT WOULD MOST LIKELY BE DEEMED "INAPPROPRIATE FOR MINORS". IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 AND/OR DO NOT ENJOY READING SUCH MATERIAL GO AWAY /NOW/.... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------ You may keep a copy of this text, and you may distribute it, so long as it remains unaltered, including this header. Yadda, yadda, yadda. A much cooler-looking version of the story (in addition to any other works) is available at my WWW site: http://www.geocities.com/RainForest/6020 _Sarulandra_ By Graham Wheeler | 07/29/97 Rain falls in sheets upon the ground as I try to keep the old Ford on the road. I like rain; really I do. But not when it's coming down as though it were trying to kill me. I can almost hear the ominous thunderclouds laughing to each other as they watch my slow and treacherous progress. Thousands of droplets enter the range of my headlights and seem to take their form and existance right there, dancing in front of me; reflecting the light back into my eyes as if to entrance me long enough to make the journey into Old Man Tree. /None of that!/ I think, and ease back on the gas a bit more as I come to a hairpin turn. Miles upon miles, it seems to me... the only sounds are the purring engine and the water, falling on the truck and being thrown up by the tires. Eyelids droop and flash open. Up ahead, in the distance, I can see a tiny light. Feeling refreshed with my goal in reach, I give the truck more gas. I'm almost to Megan's house when I see the whitetail. Several hundred pounds of prime female deer versus a ton of American-made truck. Several hundredths of a second to decide what to do. It's not going to move; it's fucking /tharn/ in the hypnotic glare of my brights. Even if I brake now I'll still hit it and if I swerve I-- The vehicle slows down noticably as the deer meets the chassis with a sickening crunch of bone and glass and steel. My mind slows down too; In the tiny fractions of time I see the deer; not quite dead, horribly broken, rushing up to my windshield with a look of confusion still on the dying face. Darkness. Pain. Pain cutting through the nothingness of thought. Then it's all gone. My first conscious thought is one of concern. Megan sounded nervous on the phone, and why shouldn't she? All alone up there and the weather just gets worse... flooding in some areas already. I've got to load some stuff into the truck and get out there before the real shit hits. Suddenly I realize I can't see or hear.. that I've already done those things and that the truck (and I) were in some kind of accident. /Am I dead?/ I think to myself with no small amount of fear. I can't move; I'm restrained somehow.. In moving a bit some feeling returns. I think I'm on a bed of some sort; it's firm but soft under my back. Warm. Peaceful. I'm not dead. Then the real fear hits me... /Am I really messed up?/ The doe flashes before me and hits me and I think I must be paralyzed, but able to feel... Everything fades out again. I can hear. I can see. (It's blurred but hey...) I'm lying in Megan's guest bedroom in her own house, safe and snug. I can't move much of anything and my head is fairly immobilized but I can see that I'm bandaged around my chest and one of my arms. That might explain the pain that shoots through me when I breath deeply... broken ribs. I don't care; it's so very wonderful just to be alive at this point. It must still be raining outside, but not so hard. The drops patter against the roof and the window in a sleepy manner. I can see that I'm basically tied down to the bed. I guess Megan thought I might suddenly wake up and damage myself even worse by trying to move. Always thoughtful, that woman.. It's nice to have friends that think about the little things. /Let's see if the ol' vocal cords still work/. I try to form words but I can only manage a pitiful sort of wheezing squawk. It makes me want to cry and laugh at the same time. Suddenly from beyond my field of vision I hear the quick scrape of a chair across hardwood floor and a soft little gasp. Moments later Megan's lovely face hovers over mine, and I see in her face such incredible fear and in her hazel eyes such incredible relief. "Hi," I whisper. Tears pool in her eyes and fall on my face and she smiles as though she hasn't smiled all her life. "Hi," she chokes out. All of a sudden she becomes aware of the mess she's making and looks around, presumably for a tissue. I take the opportunity to taste one of her teardrops, why, I don't know. I feel rather shameful while doing it but when that salty little droplet touches the tip of my tongue I can almost feel how anxious and joyful she was. It's not like her to be so concerned; Megan is one of the strongest women I know. Another moment and there she is again dabbing at my face and hers with a Kleenex. Again, her lips open and let forth the river of her voice, but this time it flows much more smoothly and gracefully. "You had me so worried. I saw your truck coming down the road and then something happened and I ran out and all the way down the road until I reached what was left of the truck. I thought for sure you were--" She looks away again. "That was three days ago." I think to myself, /She's been sitting here the whole time!/ But then something else intrudes into my thought and rips it up. I must not have eaten in almost four days! Suddenly I feel faint, and whisper to Megan: "Food.." It sounds rather strange in reply to her own words but she understands immediately, eyes widening and worry crossing her face again. "Oh God I'm so sorry! You must be half-starved! Hang on; I'll be right back with something." She departs amid a turbulent rush of air before I can say anything, leaving me once again lost in thought. I hear distant thunder mixed with the whirring of a microwave oven and the clinking of kitchen things. Presently Megan returns and sets something next to the bed on a tray. "I put your head like that cause I was afraid you might have injured your neck, but that doesn't seem to be the case.. You think you can sit up?" "I'll give it a shot," I whisper, more strongly. Megan removes the restraints and helps pull me away far enough to prop the pillows up for sitting. It takes considerable effort but I get into a decent position and rest a bit. From my new vantage point I can look around quite well. It's a nice room but at the moment I am famished, and my gaze travels towards the source of the smell that just reached me. Chicken soup! Megan carefully puts the tray over me, and with my good hand I can still eat decently. Never in my life, I think, has anything tasted more delicious than that ordinary bowl of chicken soup. As though a condemned man, after recieving a pardon at the last second, goes on to eat his first meal of a new life. Megan seems quite happy that I'm getting it all down with no trouble. "It's wonderful," I beam at her. Then I remember other feelings. "Did you.. were you sitting by me the whole time?" Megan turns and blushes ever so slightly. "I.. Yes, I guess I did.." She casts her eyes down, as though ashamed of something. "Whatever is the matter, Megan?" "Oh, nothing; nothing at all. I'll let you rest now, 'k?" She removes the tray and heads out of the room and I can't quite help the feeling that she's hiding something. But she's right in that I do need to rest more. Sleep sneaks up on me like old age, and I go into the land of dreams. ------------------------------- I love walking in the woods. Out here, there's nothing but that which belongs here. I'm strolling; maybe floating, through this evergreen forest when I hear a voice behind me. Not a human voice, mind you, but something altogether strange. "Why do you come here?" Whirling, I see the dead doe, only it's not dead. Its mangled body drips life slowly onto the soft earth, but it seems totally indifferent. "Wh..What do you want with me?" I back away in terror, hoping that the ghastly phantasm will leave. "Why do you come here?" It repeats, cocking its good eyeball toward me. Shivering, knees weak, I try to reply. "I don't understand! I didn't mean to harm you! Please, just go away and leave me alone!" Then, the deer throws back its broken head and laughs, and to one who has never heard a dead deer laugh I will not try to reconstruct it for you; it rather defies description. "Human, you do not understand things so well as you think. I am not here that I might seek revenge or torment upon you, but that I might help you to see what before you would not see." At this point, I simply sit down, because it seems like the thing to do. I close my eyes, hoping that when I open them the deer will be gone. It isn't. "Tell me, then, what I am not 'seeing', because I'd sure like to know." "Do you not know the depth of your feeling for Megan? Do you not admit to the love within you?" It was my turn to laugh, but it was a sort of madman's laugh. Here I am, in the middle of some dream-forest, with the blood-soaked body of a deer conversing with me about love. "I care very much for her, I suppose. She's very dear to me." The deer frowns slightly (can they /do/ that!?) "But you both hide your true feelings from one another. Why?" I look away sheepishly (and because I just don't like looking at the damn thing), searching for an answer. "I-- I don't know... I mean, ok, I /do/ know, I guess. I love her, but do I really? It's.. It's like, I don't want to find out.. I don't want to hurt her, I guess.." "And does that not say something in itself? Why did you come here?" And suddenly we are in the bedroom again, in the dream still, and I understand what it meant. "I came because I was worried about Megan, and I cared for her, and.." my voice trails off as I look inward and begin admitting things to myself. "Now do you see where your actions, and hers, are rooted? You must not fear, else you will become enslaved by it. Go now, and remember what you have known here and always." Saying this, the creature vanishes. "Wait!" I cry out, "Did you have to die so that I could know this?" The breeze gathers itself into a whisper. "You will understand when it is time." The whisper fades into the rustling leaves, and I am again alone. With a start I awake, breathing heavily. A glance at the clock tells me it is just past seven in the morning. Without knowing quite how or why I manage to rise, swing my legs out, and stand up beside the bed. I can stand on my own! I'm a little wobbly on my feet, but I take a few tentative steps forward. It works! I know Megan's awake because light is pouring through the hallway. /I must show her how fast I'm recovering/, I think. With some effort I walk to the doorway and into the hall, searching. It's been a while since I was up here. Too long. She must be taking a shower; I can hear water running from the direction of the bathroom. I decide to hang out in the kitchen, maybe surprise her with a little something. My legs feel stronger already as I enter the kitchen. I don't know if I can really fix a decent breakfast with one good arm, but it's worth a try. Quickly as I can I mix up some pancake batter and begin pouring it onto the hot griddle. I hear the water stop running halfway into the first batch, and prepare to surprise her. My culinary confidence grows by the minute. I'm taking the cakes and flipping them with the spatula so they come down just right... I'm in the zone. Flip.. sssssss....Flip....sssssss.....Flip.. .I notice movement in the doorway and look up mid-flip to see Megan. Staring. Naked. The warm light of the sunrise comes through the kitchen window and perfectly illuminates her sculpted body. In a flash my eyes take in her little feet, movie-star legs, not-too-wide hips, perfect thighs, joined somewhere below the carefully trimmed back nest of softest black hair. Just the faintest outline of her womanhood visible; and then I'm tracing up, past her navel, past the slight scars on her torso, to those little projections that would make Venus herself jealous. Dark nipples half-erect in the cool air, rich, creamy skin all around.. Even as time slows down and I take in her delectable curves another small part of my mind taps me on the shoulder and reminds me of the pancake. It's already left the planned trajectory though, and is now sailing lazily towards the far wall. With a soft thwack it greets the vertical surface and suddenly the trance is broken. Megan turns beet red and just sort of stands there, with a confused expression on her face. Despite the embarrassment of the situation the whole pancake incident is causing her to smile ever so slightly. Looking away, I stammer out, "I.. Uh, made some breakfast.." Looking away from her seems even more awkward, so I look at her again. She still hasn't moved; hasn't made any attempt to cover up. I venture another icebreaker. "Boy, I sure could use one of those right now." /No, wait,/ I think, /that's no good!/ "Err, a shower, I mean." Then I break down laughing, because I can't help it, and she, wonder of wonders, begins to laugh with me. My injured ribs protest loudly against such exercise, and I sink to the floor in pain. Megan stops laughing. "Are you ok?" There's that worried little girl again.. "Ohh.. ow.. I'm allright.. just need a bit more time to heal down there, that's all... Are you ok yourself?" "Yes, I... Well, I didn't know you could get up and move around all by yourself, so I just went around like.." here she sort of gestures towards herself. It's a thoroughly awkward moment. Once again, the pancakes come to the rescue. The smell of burning batter wafts ever-so-pleasantly to our noses. Megan gives a little shriek and runs for the stove. I try to look away modestly, and speak again. "Umm.. well I seem to just be making a mess of things here.. Do you mind if I take a shower, maybe do some cleaning for once? Breakfast is so much more fun when the other person doesn't smell like a wino." I hear her crystalline giggle from behind me. "Help yourself. I salvaged the one change of clothes from the truck, when I went back to it the other day." I had to get out of there, and let her preserve whatever dignity she could. Limping to the bathroom, I see my extra clothes up on a shelf and go in, closing the door behind me. The fan is running but there is still a great deal of moisture in the air from Megan's shower. The room is alive with her scent. I struggle to keep my mind off of her as I strip down. Then I realize: /What about the bandages?/ Great. I can't shower with all this junk on me, and I dare not remove it.. Oh well. Pulling my clothes back on, I head back to the kitchen, this time stopping short before the doorway. "Umm... I kind of forgot about the bandages..I might as well come back and eat something.. Are you...decent?" "Not really. It doesn't much matter now, does it?" Stoic acceptance in her voice. "Hrrmmm... well, I guess not.." I walk into the room. Megan is sitting at the kitchen table, still naked, near-perfect breasts hovering over a plate of pancakes. My pancakes. Our pancakes. Trying not to stare, I take a seat opposite her. She speaks. "They're very nice, thank you." My ears turn crimson. She speaks again. "The pancakes, you perv." I let out an awkward thank-you and resume looking at nothing in particular. "I, uh.. I just thought it might be nice to surprise you.. you've been worrying yourself sick over me and you've been taking care of me so well.. You know? I wanted to do something nice for you." I look back, at her face, scanning for a reaction. /There's that lovely smile again./ "It's very nice. Of course..." "What?" /She's doing it again.../ "Oh, nothing. Let's just eat, and then we'll see about cleaning you up." So we do. We eat in silence, silence that seems both pleasurable and unbearable. Then it's over, and she's beckoning me down the hallway and to the bathroom again. "Strip down and sit in the tub." I don't dare disobey. The clothes go off, and there stand I for all to see. Alone, in the bathroom, with Megan, naked save for my bandages. I sit in the tub, feeling the water left by her and at the same time fighting to keep my thoughts down. Megan notices my troubles. "It's arousing, isn't it? But it's only fair..and you certainly have nothing to be ashamed of. Now put your arm up and I'll take these things off." She gingerly unwinds the bandages, revealing a chest with massive bruises and some cuts. I shudder as I take in my ugly condition and give thanks to God that it is only this bad. Now that my broken arm is free it hurts a bit more, but I keep it still. And then, Megan is in the tub with me, kneeling in front of me with a sponge. Water pours from the showerhead and cascades about us as Megan soaks the sponge through. Gently, ever so gently, she dabs at my cuts with the sponge. I wince as the soap stings, but it feels good just the same. All of a sudden I'm looking at her, and she's looking into my eyes, and we see each other for the first time, or maybe the second. I see her love for me, love she tried to conceal, flowing up through her eyes, and reflecting my own love towards her. I had no idea how I was going to talk to her about what I had realized but now it doesn't matter. Words are not needed. Hesitantly, I take her sponge-hand and raise it to my cheek. She drops the sponge. With incredible tenderness she brushes my cheek with her fingers, and then my lips find her soft, fleshy palm and kiss it. I hear her sharp intake of breath; feel her tensing up. Time, we have in abundance. I let her lather my greasy, matted hair with shampoo. It feels strange, but in a good way. I dip my head into the stream of falling water and let it rinse my hair soothingly. When I pull my head out I see her looking at me; tears in her eyes, face contorted with pain I do not understand. I break the magical silence. "Megan, what's the matter?" "I saw /him/ in a dream last night. You know.. Greely.." I feel a sort of creeping dread within me. "He was just walking towards me, with the knife, and it was happening all over again and I couldn't stop it, I just..couldn't.." I reach out with my good arm, trying to comfort her, reassure her, but I realize my mistake the moment I touch her shoulder and she recoils in fear, her graceful frame racked with sobs. Lester Greely, convicted felon; the man that ten years ago raped Megan and left her for dead among the dumpsters in south Queens. And now I knew the depth of her fear, and I reach out in another way. I don't even know why I spoke how I did; it just was. "Lester is dead and gone, Megan.. the evil done to you died with him; you just didn't notice. Let it go, and let the love within you replace it." I understood something else, too, though I didn't know how. "I saw him last night in a dream too. He was the good Lester, though, not the bad one. Do you understand?" She looks at me, tears more precious than diamonds streaming from the reflecting pools of her eyes. "I... I want to, so bad. I want to think that.. I don't understand though!" "He showed me the truth I had been hiding myself from; that I had feared wasn't true. The truth of my love for you." "I love you too, but I'm scared! I'm so scared of losing you to.. to him..." I was rather shocked by this. "/Never/ while I live will I allow that.. You know I wouldn't. You know inside how much I love you; now take out your fear from between us! Let's pu-" She silences me with her lips. Pressing her soft mouth against my own. The sound of falling water grows distant as the blood rushes in my ears; as she opens her mouth slightly to take my lip inside. I relax in the warm rain of the shower and the still wetness of her mouth, but I can wait no more. My tongue gently knocks at her lip, and is invited inside her warm chamber. I taste the sweetness of her mouth and the sensuous slimyness of her own tongue. Have my eyes been open all this time? I shut them and smell her arousal rising up between us, and I feel my cock responding according to its own rigid doctrine. She gives a slight moan of pleasure, vibrating up through her mouth and down into mine. I feel her tension dissolving and her body relaxing into the shower. Even as our tongues explore each other she reaches out with her arms to pull herself closer. Breaking off, she reaches for the sponge and begins to lather my aching body. I close my eyes again and enjoy the sensation of her work; soft and rough against my skin. She's very careful not to disturb my chest and especially my arm (/hmm... won't this thing need to be set?/). I worry about re-breaking the arm but in the same instant my dread of the future evaporates with the steam from the shower, and the smooth action of her delicate, soapy fingers sliding over my penis brings me back to the present. She notices my hissing breath and smiles in a most naughty fashion, increasing the tempo of her dancing hands. With my one working arm I grab her away and let the shower rinse the soap and dirt away and down the drain. We are clean. Disappointed perhaps, she gives me a playful slap with her trapped arm. I bring the offending hand to my lips and kiss it again. Megan forces two fingers between my lips (well, she didn't have to work hard!) and wets them, then draws them out. She rises to stand above me, and for the first time I am treated to an uncompromising view of her cunt. Spreading her wet fingers over it she makes no small suggestion as to what she wants. With that trusty ol' good arm I reach out behind her and, grabbing her shapely buttock, pull her to my lips. A tentative lick around her labia is enough to send her moaning. Water runs down her and under her, mixing with her own wetness and dripping onto my mouth and face. Nudging her, I look into her eyes and she understandingly adjusts the showerhead away from us. I resume my attention towards that mystical valley swollen with hot blood. Her clitoris beckons but I know she can't take it quite yet. I insert my little finger into her moist tunnel just enough to thoroughly wet it, then withdraw. My tongue traces the outlines of her features and passes her shudders into me. Megan sighs louder this time, and her sex drips with renewed power into my face. Sweet, musky, perfect to the taste. /Much better on pancakes than maple syrup/, I think lewdly. I rub my nose in her wetness and pause for a moment to catch her off guard. Without warning I slide my moistened pinky into the little pucker of her anus, while at the same time thrusting my tongue into her tunnel and rubbing her swollen clit with my wet nose. The effect is nothing short of earth shaking, at least that's the impression I get from her. Megan gasps and her back arches convulsively, and as I play around below she begins to come. With my one arm I try to support her as her knees buckle and she sinks down, hot fluid washing over me. I pull my tongue out of her depths, leaving a glistening strand of saliva connecting us. Carefully I guide her until she rests against the wall of the shower, still heaving and panting from her tremendous orgasm. Eyes half-open, mouth slack, she rolls her head around to face me. I (again, carefully) bend to kiss her neck, and she raises her head with trembling muscles to give me better access. A little tickle here.. pressure there.. gently suck the earlobe... My movements flow naturally over her body. Soft sighs and warm breaths my companions. The ever-present shower of water, soothing away pains and fears with its unshaking sound. Cupping her breast in my hand I lick around her nipple, careful not to touch anything but the nipple. More moans. God, this feels good. Gently I take her nipple between my teeth and give it just a tiny amount of pressure, then back off and lick around her areola, blowing softly on the wetness I leave. Megan coos appreciatively, but I can feel her tensing up again as I work my way down her chest, and to the faint but everpresent pink scars left years ago by a 5-inch Buck hunting knife. I know what she's thinking in that little part of her head and I won't let her. Kissing the angry flesh, running my tongue across her jagged memories, I make love to her pain. The tension is gone. I take another quick dive between her legs and collect more of her pooling arousal. By this time she's beginning to resume her interest in my own body. Pulling away, I come back up to kiss her lips, letting her taste herself. This really turns her on, and soon she's down on my neck giving me playful little nips and bites. She works her way down, down, caressing my own sensitive nipples with her teeth and tongue (I didn't know how sensitive I /was/ there!). Down, down, licking around my navel and not stopping. She pauses for a moment to look up at me, a seductive smile on her lips, and then my view of the world below is blocked out by the flash of her wet, auburn hair. I don't need to see, though. My neglected, throbbing cock broadcasts her every action in stereo to my mind. I feel her hand holding tightly around the base, and then I feel something wet hit the head and ooze down the sides. Just as quickly, her hand begins to move up and down, spreading her saliva around evenly. Then I can feel her tongue sliding in between the little bit of foreskin and glans as she strokes up and down, down and up. I feel her wet mouth descending over it like a sheath, and pressure builds as she begins to suck. An incredible feeling of enveloping warmth flows through me as she takes me in as far as she can. I feel a tightening at the base of my cock and know I'm near my own orgasm, and she feels it too. Suddenly I'm out in open air again, spit-slicked stick being blown on by the restless air currents generated by the shower. It's another delicious feeling in and of itself. But now, she's sitting up. Our eyes meet again as she guides herself down upon me, and as I enter her I have to fight to keep from exploding right then and there. Wet beyond wetness, warm beyond warmth, soft beyond softness. Again I take her nipple into my mouth and suckle like a babe; Megan begins to rock gently up and down, hips grinding into my own. My bad arm has probably been moving too much, but I've got so much endorphine in my system I don't notice any pain at all. Faster and faster we rock against each other as squishy wet noises come from between us. I'm rising, rising with Megan, to a plateau beyond thought. Squish. Pant. Slosh. Sigh. No dirty talk, no screaming, just rising, together. Again and again our heads drift together and apart, touching lips, teeth, tongues. "I love you," she gasps. "I love you," I moan in return, and I mean it. We reach the top of the plateau together and stand, wavering, on the brink, seeing all creation spread out before us. The dam breaks. She cries out in pure pleasure and my own weak voice joins her. In the solid field of white light behind my fluttering eyelids I see the birth of universes, and I see the deer again, healed and beautiful and smiling down upon me (can they /do/ that!?), and then we are falling, sliding, tumbling back down into life, into the ordinary, and once again I hear and I see and I can think. The warm water falls upon us; washing away the sweat. Face flushed with exertion and joy, Megan kisses me again, and then I am sliding out of her and she is going down on me a second time. I notice that my ribs don't seem to hurt at all, even with pressure on them. It's out of my mind for the moment, as she has once again presented her nether regions to my own mouth. With relish I clean up the juice that trickles out of her tunnel, holding it in my mouth. Then we are back sitting next to each other and cooling down. We look at each other, and indeed she looks quite nice with my semen running in little rivulets from the corners of her mouth. I kiss her again, sharing with her. Nothing is said. Everything has been said. I could sit like this for a long time, just holding her against me... but the shower begins to go from warm to cool, and then to cold. Still warm inside, we shut off the water and help each other out, wrapped in a single large towel. The rest of the day is spent in her bed; in her arms, as we drift in between a dreamlike wakefulness and a sleep that holds reality inside. THE BEGINNING -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /