F6: Bedtime Stories

Author's note: This story is a submission to the sixth Friendly Anonymous Writing Challenge (FAWC) and a tribute to the founder of FAWC, slyc_willie, who we lost unexpectedly in October 2015. The true author of this story is kept anonymous until the end of the competition. Authors base their story on a list of four items. Their choices included the following letters: S L Y C. Each item was used in the story. There are no prizes given in this challenge; this is simply a friendly competition.

The list for this story includes: yarn, yodeler, yacht, and yearn

All the characters in the story are over 18.

* * * *

"Uncle Jay, please..." Her voice had that pleading quality about it when she wanted a story.

It was long past the time she usually went to bed, but that mattered not at all when she couldn't fall asleep on her own. Bedtime was bedtime, and on nights like this only a story would do the trick. A story was expected, and a story would be delivered. It was "the Law."

I had just returned from a longer-than-usual business trip, and my sister's daughter waited for me impatiently, as usual. We had built a special bond, the two of us, thrown together to mourn our lost loves the best we could: she her parents, and I my only sister, whom I had doted on and loved like nothing else on earth. Lost to a drunk driver who had been too belligerent to listen to his friends when they tried to keep him from driving home. They had even taken his keys away from him, but hadn't realized his car had a number pad into which he could simply type a code, and a push-start ignition.

If it hadn't been for May, I would have gone after the bastard and wrung his neck with my own two hands. As it was, he got jail time for voluntary manslaughter and his lawyer was still filing appeal after appeal, trying to get him out of jail. The asshole was wealthy enough that he could keep throwing his dollars left and right, and keep the torture going.

"Which story would you like to hear tonight, May?"

"Doesn't matter, Uncle. Whichever you want to tell me. Or a new one..."

"Hmmmm. I'm pretty tired to come up with a new one tonight. But maybe, just maybe a new one will spin itself out, a new yarn coming out of this ol' spinning wheel. Just bear with me, Maygirl."

Maygirl, that was my name for her. She was my Maygirl, born in May like my little sister, both of them having blossomed in spring.

The "girl" wasn't much of a girl anymore: she was 19 going on 20, with the body of a fully-grown woman. Unfortunately, after the accident, she'd retreated into herself and hardly said a word to anyone but me. She'd had to quit college, too listless to continue to do well in her classes, and had become a recluse, keeping to her room most of the time except when she emerged to cook me meals, a job she had taken over from her mother.

"Ready, my Maygirl?"

She nodded, and I sat down in the armchair next to her bed, while she curled up at my feet, her head in my lap as usual.

"Some time ago, my Maygirl, there was a sailor named Gabriel." My brother-in-law's name had been Gabriel, and May loved to hear stories with her parents woven as characters, the warp that the other characters formed the weft around framed on a loom that changed little from time to time.

"This sailor, Gabriel, went off to sea on a fishing voyage with his mates, like he did most months. This time, they sailed for days and nights until, after about a week of sailing, a bad storm wrecked their ship and all the rest of the crew drowned at sea."

I felt May's fingers dig into my thigh, her fingernails long enough to cause me pain, but I said nothing. Instead, I used my fingers in turn to run through her hair, starting at her forehead and down to her nape, using my fingertips to massage her scalp. She loved having her head rubbed: it calmed her while listening to the story, and I loved running my fingers through her long tresses, soft and silky. They reminded me of my sister's beautiful dark hair that had just started to turn gray not long ago.

"But Gabriel," I went on, "he was lucky - he survived, hanging on to part of the broken mast. He hung on for dear life, not letting go of a hunk of mast for three long days and nights. He was barely alive, Gabriel was, with no food to eat and especially no water to drink. In the wake of the storm, the sun had come out and shone upon him, drying out his skin and his eyes. Still holding on to a part of the boat, his eyelids swelled and his lips cracked, his tongue thick and useless in his mouth, the briny water salting his wounds.

Finally, on the fourth day, a wave washed him ashore onto an island surrounded by a thin white sand beach and surrounded by a reef. It was a sheer miracle Gabriel's body was not torn up more than it was, having been thrown onto land through an opening of the skirt reef. The storm and the pounding, punishing waves had torn his clothes, which now hung in strips off him, his pants held on him only by a belt whose buckle had already begun to rust. The sun was still punishing his helpless, bedraggled body, but Gabriel was no longer conscious and blind to his pain and misery."

I drew a sip of my drink, a deep breath, and took up my story where I'd left off.

"Later on that fourth day a pair of young women, about your age, I'd say, emerged from the island's forest onto the beach, each carrying a mesh bag and a water skin, laughing and carrying on with each other. They didn't notice Gabriel laying there, covered with sand and sea grass, his blonde-brown hair matted and encrusted with the sea rubble he'd dragged along as he'd been rolled by the waves onto the beach with the high tide.

The young women stretched a colorful cloth onto the beach and placed a rock or a water skin on each corner. Then they shed the remainder of their already meager clothing and shoes that looked like primitive flip-flops, held on their feet with dried and woven strips of sea grass. Each of them threaded their mesh bag onto a length of rope, then double-wound the rope around their middle and, laughing and pushing each other playfully on the beach and kicking up the sand with their toes, waded into the ocean, and disappeared in the waves."

"Didn't they notice Gabriel, lying there on the beach, nearly dead?" May asked, her fingers digging into my thigh.

I shook my head, "No."

I was aware that her hand had wandered quite near my crotch. I didn't want to move and disturb her, so I shifted just slightly, intending to move myself away from her fingers. I assume she felt me slide and feared she would slip and lose her balance, because she moved her hand with the exact opposite effect of the one I had intended. Her fingers now lay right on top of my member, and I felt myself, despite my best intentions, twitch slightly under her touch. She didn't seem aware of the movement and, deciding that my best recourse was to pretend nothing at all had happened, I kept still and continued with my yarn.

"A while later, as the sun just began to dip towards the horizon, Gabriel finally stirred and opened his eyes. Moving his head very slightly, the angle of his head letting him see the rolling waves not too far from where he lay and the swaying palms farther up the beach. He was still barely aware of his predicament, too tired and beat up to move, so after a few attempts to drag himself farther up the beach, he closed his eyes and gave up for the moment.

He must have drifted off to sleep, because when he opened his eyes again, he could see the shadows of the palm trees stretching across the sand on the beach. He needed to move, but as much as he tried to push himself up, he still had no strength to do so.

Still, as he moved his head he saw the two young women walking out of the water, naked except for their rope belts from which hung their bags, now filled with abalone shells. They were talking and laughing, and when they reached the cloth they knelt on it, unwound their rope belts, and lay their mesh bags down to one side. Then they collapsed on the cloth and stretched out, clearly exhausted from their endeavors."

I took another sip of my beer, pulled my fingers through May's hair and caressed her scalp and neck, and went back to the story.

"The two women lay next to each other for some while, catching their breath and regaining their strength. Gabriel, meanwhile had seemingly fallen asleep again.

When one of them stirred, she raised herself up on an elbow, turning to the other one who looked to have fallen asleep. The first one's black tresses flowed over the shoulder and naked breast of the other one. The black-haired girl looked down on her companion and bent her mouth to the other's ear, whispering something Gabriel couldn't hear. The other, her reddish hair barely grazing her shoulders, didn't move. The black-haired girl leaned over again, pressing against the back of the red-head, and traced her companion's earlobe with the tip of her tongue, dipping into the shell of the ear, then traced around its rim again. The redhead moved slightly, a brusque motion, as if trying to shoo a fly away from her ear.

Just then Gabriel's eyes fluttered open and followed the surface of the sand to where the two young women lay. His mouth was too dry to shout or even croak anything, and he had such little energy left that he was content to simply lay there himself, hoping one of them would notice him in the end. Across the sand, not 20 feet away, he could see the naked body of the redhead, the black-haired girl draped over her friend.

The dark haired one started squirming against the redhead and snaked an arm over her. At first, she idly drew circles and swirls on her friend's arm. When that still had no effect, she traced swirls around one of her friend's nipples, which was deep pink against a pale pink areole. Then she ran the flat of her palm across one pink nipple, making it stand up. Satisfied, she leaned over farther and did the same with the nipple of the second breast. From his vantage point, Gabriel saw the redhead arch her back and push her nipple into the other's palm."

I stopped. I knew where May wanted me to head, where she always wanted the story to head. To get her to sleep, I had to help her get off. It was the only way we'd found that didn't involve debilitating drugs that screwed with her memory or made her so lethargic she would stay awake no more than a couple of hours each day, and even those she'd spend in a daze. Bringing her to climax, however, made her relax, put her into a natural seven or eight hour sleep, and the next day she was human again.

I felt May's fingers digging into my thigh, egging me on. Dangerously close to my lengthening shaft, but that was a small price to pay for helping her out.

"Tell me what happened next," she said, softly, and her hand moved closer to the growing bulge in my pants. I moved it slightly, hoping it wouldn't be enough for her to really notice but far enough to help me relax.

"Patience, my dear Maygirl, and I'll tell you," I said, and took another long draft of my drink.

"The dark head moved to the redhead's ear, and it looked to Gabriel that she was whispering in it. But the redhead's body arched even higher into the other's hand, her hips pushing forward. Despite his weakness, Gabriel felt himself harden, the sight so wanton, so sensual. And soon, the hand that had palmed the redhead's breast traveled down, slowly, stroking the lightly tanned and taut stomach. It spent a few seconds on the swell around the navel, then continued its travel. Down, down the hand moved, fingers first, slow, barely an inch every few seconds. When it reached the other's mound, it stopped and the fingertips pressed into the flesh, just above the cleft of the vulva. The fingers reached down and swept upwards through the curled pubic hairs, pulling them up enough that Gabriel could see the stretched darker pink flesh, swollen and moist with its excitement.

Gabriel closed his eyes. He couldn't believe he was seeing what he was seeing. He thought he must be delirious, probably because of the lack of food and especially water. Or maybe the lack of sleep these past few... however many days, he'd lost count. He opened his eyes again but they were still there, the two young women.

The second and third fingers of the dark haired one were now pulling and pushing the flesh of the other's labia around, and every once in a while a fingernail grazed the top of dark inverted V just barely visible between the fingers. The third finger then disappeared, sliding inside the cleft, first to the first knuckle, then the second, then all the way in, so deep that the wrist was extended to allow it. The finger moved, the wrist making a slight circular motion, then the finger slid out again and rose to the redhead's lips. She sucked the finger glistening with her juices hungrily, groaning loudly and bucking her hips forward, then grinding them back into the other's pelvis."

May still lay draped over my knee and I could feel one hand moving across her chest, see the palm flat running circles over her own nipples while her other hand was wrapped around my thigh from underneath and stroking the inside of my thigh. I knew I was on the right track with my story when the hand that had rubbed her nipples slid down between her legs and into her panties, starting to move in and out. I decided it was time to ratchet it up a notch. Her fingers on my thigh were restless, moving about as fast as the hand in her panties. Her fingers now reached my balls and the base of my shaft as it lay, stiff as a rod and uncomfortable, across my crotch.

I continued. "Down went the dark-haired one's finger again, joined by another finger, stopping just over the clit that shone with thick glutinous moisture. The two fingers fluttered and flicked and rubbed in small circular motions, while the redhead's hips were stretched out, arching, desperate for the contact with the fingers. About that time, the redhead let out a high wail, the sound rising and dipping in time with the bucking of her hips, faster as the fingers sped up, the wrist looking blurred with its motion. The sound that came from the redhead resembled that of a mountain yodeler whose voice alternated in strength, swooping up and down, rising and crashing precipitously with the motion of the fingers that played her body like an instrument. The wail finally reached a peak and stayed at its highest pitch for a few beats, a loud, full tone, and then dissolved in an even louder gasp as the hips stayed arched, drawn into an impossibly tight bow and quivering with the strain of the spasms. Her chest was heaving, her breasts swaying along with it, the nipples swollen like overripe raspberries."

May's hand was moving faster in her panties, then brought it out and sucked two of her own fingers. I knew she was getting where she needed to go, so I continued the story before she noticed I was looking at her.

"Slowly, the redhead's hips and chest relaxed into the cloth-covered sand, her shoulders slumped forward, the breathing coming slower and quieter until he could no longer hear her at all. The dark haired girl swept the red hair off her friend's brow, wiping the sweat off her forehead and cheeks. She then pulled her friend flat onto the cloth and climbed over her, straddling her and rubbing her own mound against the other's. Gabriel could see the yearning in the movement of her hips, grinding themselves against the red hair-covered mound, taking her the beautiful globes of her own pert breasts in hand and kneading them. The redhead, now breathing normally, lifted her fingers and pulled on her friend's brown nipples, making them stand stiff and greedy for suckling."

Again, May brought her right hand to her mouth and sucked the fingers in deep, then dipped it between her legs again. When she brought it out, instead of stopping at her own mouth, she heaved herself up and brought her slimy hand to my own mouth. I didn't immediately open my lips to her fingers. She impatiently smeared the fluids across my lips, so close to my nose that I could smell the pungency of her arousal. It got me even harder, and I had to shift my hips which, when I finished and sat down again, brought my balls right on top of her left hand. She moved her fingers and began to stroke the underside of my balls with the back of her hand. I bit my lip and, not caring any longer, I shifted again, going with her movement, rubbing my crotch against her.

She shifted again and pressed harder upwards against my sweat pants. As usual this time of night, I'd taken off my underwear, and I felt every movement, every stroke of her knuckles against my taint and my balls. It felt so fucking good I had no thought in my head other than "More"!

Yes, it was May doing this, my niece. Yes, she was my sister's daughter, and my sister would have expected me not to break her trust. But May had been of age nearly two years now, and if this is what it took to give her some semblance of a livable life, if this saved her from the medications that turned her into a ghost, a shadow of her beautiful, vivacious self, I was willing to pay the price of my conscience.

All of a sudden, May pinched the underside of my sacs. "Uncle! The story!"

"May, fucking A!" I took a deep breath, then another. "Gentle with your uncle, May," I chided her, but I took her not so subtle hint and continued my story.

"As Gabriel looked on, the redhead was kneading her black haired friend's breasts, and rubbing her pelvic bone into the other's crotch, rolling and undulating her hips. The other one had started moaning loudly, her head thrown back, black hair streaming down her back, and she was riding the redhead like she was an unbroken colt.

All of a sudden, the redhead sat up and took one of her friend's breast in her mouth, sucking on it as if she was going to pull it off with the nipple Her friend arched her back and ground her hips even harder, her thighs taut as springs with the effort, until they both stopped, frozen in mid-air. The black haired girl's chin pointed out, her neck arched so far back Gabriel wondered whether she would snap it, and she let out a loud grunt as she pushed even harder into her friend. The redhead pulled the dark nipple so far it looked like it was made of elastic. The dark haired girl's mouth opened in a silent scream and she became still, every muscle clenched and only her pelvis and upper thighs vibrating with the effort of maintaining her position at that highest point of her orgasm."

I felt May's wrist and arm moving relentlessly, sometimes up and down, sometimes across. The way she sat, it was rubbing against my calf and I could not help but think of how wet she must be, the dark pink flesh of her pussy slick with her wanton need.

At times like these her lust simply tumbled out and the still-innocent, unworldy young woman became randy and uncontrolled, the yearn in her eyes and body nakedly lascivious. I worried about letting her out on her own, worried that some thoughtless, selfish, frankly immoral asshole would take advantage of her. That no one would care for her in the same way that I did. Would not take care of her every bodily need and every little whim or craving she merely suggested, even before she suggested it, the way that I did.

"Oh, uncle, don't they ever notice Gabriel?"

"If you let me keep going, I'll tell you. The two women collapsed, the dark-haired one slumped over the redhead, exhausted, their arms akimbo. And as the dark haired one was a little higher off the ground and was looking in Gabriel's direction, and not otherwise preoccupied, she noticed that what they'd dismissed earlier as just a mound of sea grass and other ocean flotsam was actually a human form.

The darker one raised herself on her arms despite the redhead's protest, and peered intently at the mound that was really Gabriel. Just then, Gabriel managed to twitch his arm an inch, and blinked his eyes in what he hoped was a signal, letting the beautiful sylph-like form know that he was real and alive.