tagErotic HorrorLust of Death Ch. 01

Lust of Death Ch. 01


She awakens slowly; a light sheen of sweat separates her from her the silk softness of her nightgown. The fresh shadows of lust and fantasy still dance through her mind. The dream of touching, caressing and lust elicited reactions from her body that had only been revealed from personal attention recently. It seemed her lip even hurt from biting, a habit she developed as a teenager while attempting to remain quite during the fondlings and gropings of sex while in the home of her parent's.

The silk slip as always rode up during the evening's blanket wrestling session, usually a routine that didn't concern her. It seemed too revealing in this moment between dreaming and consciousness, if any eyes could pierce the darkness of her room, besides her available nudity they may have seen her blush. While arranging the slip to cover herself she glances over at the time, the red lights indicating 12:13 a.m. provide the only light in the room. In the soft light she is possessed by the usual erotic thoughts, to act out the needs and fantasies her mind created in the dream state. Instinctively her hand reaches for the object of her usual affections, the long slim energized partner of so many romantic sessions, but she hesitates. The morning holds some important activities that require an attentive mind; she does not have the hour needed for evening self-interests. Her grasp on the convenient lover loosens and she throws her legs over her bed in a frustrated grunt, hoping a cold glass of water will chill her warm blood.

As she stands she finds that a restroom break is also in order. After answering those basic needs she returns to her initial goal of obtaining a cool drink. Although her mind still focuses on the dream activities, she finds her way to the refrigerator for the promised glass of refreshing liquid. The water trickles down her throat and continues to her stomach, stopping just shy of the location of the steaming blaze that holds her excited and awake. Still focused on unobtainable situations she curses herself softly in the darkness, and she curses all the gods above for damning her with loneliness. A living lover might be enough to satiate this need and desire that hold such control over her unconscious yearnings or with a more frequent partner available she may have never had the dream to being with.

With another frustrated sigh she begins her return trip to that isolated padding and lonely casing of her bed. As she approaches the bedroom she can see through the yawning doorway the disarray caused by her night activities. The sheets have been pulled back, the blankets kicked off and the pillows flung and thrown about as if the bed were a victim of an all girl slumber party. The darkness hides her instinctive blushing once again as she imagines herself shifting and groaning in response to the images painted in her head just moments ago. Her thoughts drift once again to the feeling of passionate love found in her dream. She bites her lip habitually and reviews the interaction between actor and director of her unconscious movie. Although the self inflicted sleeping desires lasted but moments her mind rewinds the actions of touching, thrusting and mounting replaying them in her imagination. She begins to moisten and sweat in immediate response to the heat of the room and the steaming in her mind.

Her conscious mind snaps her back into reality and she shakes her head, pushing out the fantasy and causing her to focus. "Get a grip." The only sound to break the silence is the self-scolding words from her throat. Realizing the room is warm and needs to be dealt with before returning to bed she quickly moves toward the sliding glass door located in the living room. Naturally any sane person would hesitate at opening such a large entrance into the protective castle of their home, but she was thirty stories above the city, and well over any immediate threat with exception of homicidal Base Climbers, a rarity in the metropolitan area.

After sliding open the glass wall the room seems to cool immediately, almost as if the heat was pulled from the room and replaced with a chilling cold. For a moment she forgets about the evening's activities and wonders about the impending snowstorm. This sort of bitter cold could only be an indication of such a tremulous weather event. Her nipples rise instinctively, not from desire but bone shattering cold. She turns toward the aperture to her domicile reflexively as if she could watch the heat being dragged from the room and the cold blasting in to replace it. It seems as though a darkness follows in the cold which slides into the room like a haunt, slowly shrouding all light and incasing her in a blanket of nothing. The surrounding night seems so solid that it has become difficult to see nearby furnishings of her apartment. As if to accent the darkness the city sleeps and makes no sound, even her soft gentle breathing has gone numb to her ears.

For a brief moment her heart quickens, fear crushes down upon her, the bestial need for light and safety are overwhelming her common sense. Then she recalls the dreams of this evening, from lust to nightmare she remembers them all. This one, she realizes will simply be another addition to that evening's collection of unconscious ranting which all minds play. She remembers reading a theory concerning dream manipulation, it is possible that if she focuses what bit of conscious understanding she seems to have retained maybe she can return to a more enjoyable theater, one filled with longing, fulfillment and release. An orgasm in a dream is still better than wakeful longing she decides as she begins to focus on more pleasurable stimulus.

She begins by focusing on past lovers, what few there have been. From the foolish and naive high school boys fumbling with her panties to the college experimentation of sapphic lust she includes them all in her minds eye. The flesh writhing around her, the tight tingling of her nerve endings as they are stimulated by tongue, finger and erection all seem to meld into one moment of sexual energy. In the darkness surrounded by nothing she feels everything. The beginning caress of her budding breasts by Thomas the next door neighbor, the unskilled fingers of Donald exploring the soft moisture of her sex, and even the slight acid taste of her roommate Kelly's sensitive folds all flood from her memory in one instant flash.

So explosive is this sexual release that she almost topples to her knees. She half grins thinking of how her body must be responding to these sexually seductive dreams, how the bed linen must suffer from sweat and writhing lust. She closes her eyes and returns to focusing on past sexual escapades. She recalls her fist orgasm, like most women she was alone and enjoying the pleasure of her own touch. She just turned eighteen and had been accepted to an Ivy League school for her skills in writing and mathematics. The same day that she told Jason that she loved him and would gladly accept him as her prom date, the release seemed a fitting end to a special day.

That evening's experimentation began as many others, alone, stripped to her panties and bra in her room. She just stepped out of the shower, the heat and steam relaxed her and added to the joy filled day. There was no hesitation in her mind about the next few moments, she had not been raised to feel guilt in this activity, and so without pausing, she slipped from her underclothes and lay on her bed. The covers and sheets had already been pulled down a bit, something special her mom always like to do, the cool crisp clean sheets comforted her and allowed her fantasy to quickly come to life.

The object of her affection and imaginings was none other than Jason, High School friend and fellow dilettante she often spent time with him at school and on parent guided functions, she dreamed of the evening when they could be together, even if only for a few fleeting moments. As she gathered her thoughts and focused on his touching and romantic caresses her left hand began to slide to her breasts. Gently she mimicked the hands of her lover, sliding her hands above her soft skin. Small Goosebumps rose on her peach colored flesh in anticipation. Her fingers trailed along the edges of her right breast starting from the outside and circling to the inside using just the tip of her nail. The small focal point of touch was so pleasurable that she had to bite her lip to silence the moan.

One hand continued to pleasure her breasts and nipples the other slid slowly down her stomach, brushing lightly on the soft nether locks and finally resting gently between her legs. As if in trained anticipation her legs spread slowly not wishing to disrupt the scene in her mind. The scene of Jason, his naked flesh pressed close to hers, the way his eyes would scan hers as he touched and loved her. The hand on her sex held steady resting on the outer closures of her body waiting for that moment when fantasy and reality could merge as one. It was then that the daydream Jason looking down with his bright blue eyes and handsome hair asked, "May I make love to you." With that imagined question she uttered a soft "Yes", in response and he would enter her.

As her answer broke the silence of the room her hand parted the soft moist folds of her body and two fingers entered acting on those nerves as if it was Jason's throbbing member entering her for the first time. The opposing digit remained external to her sex and began brushing softly that little cluster of nerves she learned long ago were the most potent to touch during the act of self gratification. Many times had she been through this night, and many times stopped because of external intervention but this evening was different. This night, alone in her home, with college and Jason firmly in her mind, she finished and climaxed harder than she thought possible. Somewhere between terror and exaltation she found the pleasures of sex, not just love and the emotions connected there. Sadly as with all fantasies, reality is never an equal and Jason had turned out to be a fleeting and greedy lover.

With that thought firmly in mind she was immediately returned to the darkness of her apartment and the dreams of this time. Almost as if waking from a dream within a dream her eyes opened and she peered around into the nothingness that encased her. Her mind clung to the belief that this was a dream, because no darkness could be this complete. Not even the shadows of space were this devoid of light and life. "Darkness like this," she thought, "only exists in coffins."

Just as panic began to rise the darkness seemed to respond. Thinning here and there to reveal furniture and common trappings of her apartment business life. With a sigh she succumbed to this logic and smiled. "It seems that this is a dream after all", she thought as she comforted herself. And with that idea she closed her eyes and drifted back into the desirable arms of lust and want. This time her mind trailed to college and the oak stained Ivy League halls of her almamater.

Kelly was a fellow intellectual and artist, attending school in hopes to graduate with honors and a degree in political science. Kelly was every girls best friend, caring considerate and always available with a shoulder when a good heartfelt cry was needed. It was one of these moments that she and Kelly shared more than a simple sob over grades and jerks.

It was a late evening and after swim practice she and Kelly returned to the dorm to shower and study. The dorm rooms were small but well maintained and the facilities were always clean. As with most schools the showers were open and lacked any privacy, a fact that most people simply ignored by keeping their eyes up and their conversations light. But with the showers vacant except for her and Kelly, her eyes seemed to move on their own accord. She started by allowing them to drift along Kelly's legs; well muscled and tanned they were an athlete's legs. Her eyes continued their showing by moving along her buttocks and back, again well muscled and tanned, her body had the pale skin separation created by bikinis in the summer. Her eyes rested once again, this time at Kelly's head and shoulders, straight raven locks adorn an impeccable mind. Kelly was shampooing; eyes closed and had yet seemed to notice the attention she was receiving. Kelly's gentle Asian features were also something she always envied; soft and gentle curves mixed with a porcelain gleam and fragility, she often wondered if Kelly would break if fondled too roughly.

Her eyes returned to their picture show, moving down Kelly's chest and stomach. Kelly's body followed the form and function of an Asian athlete small tight belly, round tinny breasts. The tan lines which shifted Kelly's color below also changed her skin tones above and made her sensitive breasts more apparent and appealing than seemingly possible. Her eyes finished their journey at Kelly's waist, the small neatly trimmed patch of black hair below was cut perfectly to hide from the suns rays, in fact she noted that Kelly's trim included the dangerous area of her lower lips something she was never brave enough to do.

As if in response to the shaving idea her own hand moved down to tease the small curly brown hairs on her pubis. In her daze she thought of Kelly and pleasure or seeming lack thereof. It dawned on her that Kelly and her had been living together for two years, and never once did she happen on Kelly with a boy, or even Kelly alone and indisposed. Quite the opposite seemed to happen to her, Kelly had walked into the room and witnessed her busy and naked almost weekly. Every time Kelly had caught her, she was shocked and blushing, Kelly just smiled and stepped outside to allow her to finish and freshen. Kelly's response was so benign and innocent that more than a few times she fantasized about sharing an intimate moment with Kelly.

"See anything you like." Kelly's words broke her thoughts and her staring. In an instant she remembered her hand and moved it, as if Kelly had walked in on her masturbating again, she also blushed in automatic response. In a look that denoted omniscience Kelly appeared to view her sexual desires, Kelly slyly smiled at her and watched her through half closed eyes.

"Just admiring your tummy, it's so small and cute." The lie sounded foolish and forced to her, she could only image how stupid she must sound to Kelly, but she continued in the odd open shower instinct all fellow bathers had developed. "Well mine isn't as tight," rubbing her exposed stomach with her hand to emphasis the lie. "No matter how much I swim and crunch," she continued in the same nervous, exposed prattle, "I just can't develop my abs."

"I've often thought the same way about you." Kelly responded, although not to the remarks but to the initial staring. Again she was caught off guard for an answer, except this time she was smart enough not to fabricate another lie.

"I wondered a few times if my image was in those pleasure sessions I commonly interrupt," Kelly spoke, a light knowing grin played on her lips.

Their lovemaking occurred later in the dorm room, lasting only a few short hours, but the experience marked her mind, forever. Kelly was an experienced and considerate lover with soft fingers, soft kisses and a gentle tongue. It was her cliché college lesbian experience and although she did not continue her female interests, she would never want to loose the memory of Kelly's touch and taste.

In the darkness of her lone apartment she could almost feel Kelly's fingers massaging her breast and nipples. She kept her eyes closed then and continued to do the same now, as the fingers danced lightly on her erect nipples, gently pulling them and rubbing them to a heated frenzy.

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