Nephilian's blog: "What if's"

It was raining the day I was born. The sky had been overcast for days. It was expected, during the transition from Winter to Spring. The coldness of winter had already gone, but the chill in the air remained stubbornly behind, lasting weeks after the final day of winter had passed. It left the nights cold and unfriendly, which was why there was no one on the streets. It always seems to get the coldest around 2 AM. The only people out were the ones too wasted on some thing or another to notice any weather. And they weren’t going to pay any attention to a little noise in an alleyway. My mother, propped up against the back wall of a corner pawn shop. The blood from the knife wound high on her chest flowing away into the gutters by the rain. Her breathing was quick, pained, and it was the only sound you could hear over the rainfall. The two men in front of her stood motionless, just watching. Their faces were dark, unconcerned. They had been hired to kill the daughter of a policeman. And they had to make sure she died. Her hands reached out…to the wall, the street, the lights…she didn’t even know what she was reaching for. But she kept reaching, she needed help, and she knew what life she had left inside would be gone soon if she couldn’t find any. But there is no help at 2 AM. There is only cold, and rain. Her eyes moved to the bag laying off to her side, on the left. Her darkening mind recognized it as the tool used to draw her here in the first place. But even now, she couldn’t find it within herself to hate the thing. In fact, she wanted it more now than ever. Just a little bit, she didn’t need much. She was in pain, and pain never stayed when she was high. It was the only time she didn’t feel pain. Her hand fell limply towards the bag, but it had fallen almost 2 yards away. It took her a moment for her mind to accept that she couldn’t reach what she could see. It’s right there, though. This must be a dream. The sharp pain in her chest flared for a moment, bringing the second pain, the one lower. The shock from the knife wound created another problem. The baby wasn’t going to wait until it’s proper time. It was coming now. Her body twitched in the falling rain, her hand laying on the dirt of the alley, stretched towards the bag. Her eyes stared at it, and the pain from the birth was almost foreign to her. Part of her consciousness recognized the sound of feet walking away from her. She tried to see the men leaving, but her head wouldn’t move like it was supposed to. All she managed to do was tilt her head forward. Just enough to see the blood leaving her body in gushes. She had a strange thought as she faded. She had never tasted blood before. I wonder what it tastes like? But that question would never be answered for her. Death doesn’t care about your questions. It was 2 AM. It was cold. And it was raining the day I was born. The day I was left to die alone in an unknown alley.

A woman stands, a man behind her. She may know him, she may not. It doesn’t even matter. He steps close to her, and she can feel his body against hers. His hands move to touch her elbows. She doesn’t pull away, and he slides his hands up and down, feeling the length of her arms. He moves closer, settles, until the contours of his body align with hers. With one hand he brushes the hair away from her neck. Her sensual neck. She feels his hands around her waist, holding her to him. She feels his lips on her skin, below her ear, as his hands slide up, slowly, to her breasts. They are a fetish for him, and she can feel him growing behind her. He wants her. His hands massage her breasts as he continues to taste the sweetness of the flesh of her neck. His breathing slows, becoming deeper, stronger. More…primal. More…intent full. One hand slides down and under the bottom of her shirt, for the first touch against her skin. His tongue traces the outline of her neck, as his other hand holds her neck to him. She feels his palm slide over her stomach, gripping her tight, as his groin pushes against her. His lips never leave her skin. The heat from her face, her body, fuels the growing desire he has for her. Both hands now move under her shirt, then up, up, to cup each breast with an urgent lust. His hips grind into her as his caresses become faster, harder. He turns her around to face him. He wants to see her. Her face, her eyes, her lips. Her lips. He wants to taste them more than he remembers wanting anything before. They kiss, passionately, as his hands roam her back, feeling as much of her as he can. Her lips are warm, wet. Perfect. Their tongues meet, and the sensual moisture is almost more than either can stand. But they both need more. Her shirt is off in a heartbeat. But his hands know that it has been far too long. They miss her feel as they reach around her again, pulling her into him roughly. He kisses her again, hard, as if trying to taste her very soul. One hand holds her head as the other moves down her back to grip her and pull her into him. She is so beautiful. So sexual. So warm. The wait is killing him, he is already trembling with need. She turns back around as his hands explore every inch of her. His mouth traces a line of kisses from her neck, her shoulders, her back, and lower as he undoes her bra. He moves lower still, his hands trailing his line of kisses, his licks, his bites. His lips, his teeth, are gently but urgently on her ass. His hands undo her pants. The zipper comes down, and they are pulled to the floor. He grips her waist firmly, pulling her into him as he kisses and sucks her waist, her ass. He will not get enough of her. He moves his hands around and glides over her thighs, exploring, sliding, pinching, pulling, squeezing. His fingers find her, and the tips begin rushing up and down over the surface, tickling her, barely touching her. Then they are gripping her, rubbing her. A finger touches her directly. It slides up and down, lubricating her until it finally enters her. She feels to good to him. He spins her around with her back to the wall now. He grabs her hips and yanks her into him. The first touch of his tongue is gentle, slow. But only the first. He lunges into her, needing this desire to be quenched. He sucks her into his mouth as his tongue moves over and over her. He licks, and touches, and squeezes, and sucks, and kisses. One hand grabs her ass and forces her pelvis into his face even harder, and the other hand moves up to hold on of her breasts. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. He doesn’t care how long. He only wants to hear this woman scream,. He wants to be the one to make this woman scream. He sucks harder, his fingers tease her nipples, squeezing her tits. He devours her, over and over and over, he is not going to stop until she comes. She jerks her hips towards him as she does. The heat she gives off is incredible. It only makes him want her more. He drinks what he can. His tongue pushing and probing, searching for every drop. He gives her one final, long, sucking kiss, then pulls her to the floor with him, undoing his pants as he does. He moves his mouth over her, up her stomach, all the way to her tits. Her magnificent tits. She learns now that this is his true fetish. He loves the way they feel, the way they taste. The way they shift and move under his touch. The warmth of the flesh drives him crazy. First one nipple, then the other. Back and forth. Squeezing them, sucking them, licking them, biting them. He massages her tits with his hands, as he consumes the other with his hunger. He runs his tongue roughly over the nipples as he inhales her glorious flesh into his mouth. He moves his hand downward as he eats her tits. He pulls himself out and she feels it for the first time. He is hard against her. Throbbing. Hungry for just her. Needing only her. He shifts and she feels it, hears him groan lightly as he pushes his cock into her. His breathing gets shorter, faster, and he can feel her lips spread open to him, then close around him as he pushes himself all the way inside her. He moves slow at first, from side to side, relishing the sensations of her walls squeezing the entire length of his cock. Then he pulls back, only to shove himself back into her again. He starts to outright fuck her now. Fast, hard. He watches her tits jerk wildly with every thrust. They feel each other’s skin move against one another as the sweat begins to form. In and out, faster and faster. Her arms are around him, holding him tight to her. Her legs around his waist causing her body to rock violently with every shove as he gets closer and closer. He looks at her face. The more he looks at her, the more he wants her. The more he wants her, the more he wants nothing more in this world than to explode. He wants THIS gorgeous woman writhing beneath him to make him explode. He can’t fill her enough, he can’t fuck her enough, he can’t touch her enough, he can’t kiss her enough. He wants HER. They fuck and fuck and fuck Harder, harder. Breath is lost, all that is left is wild desire that needs to be fulfilled. His dick is as hard as it’s ever been as they fuck and fuck and fuck. She’s gripping every inch of his cock as he shoves it into her over and over and over and over and over. Madly, wildly, until he can’t control it anymore. He reaches his breaking point, coming in a frantic release. He continues pushing his way into her, feeling her body milk every drop from him…