Skin to Skin

Thanks to the hot shower, I was wide awake and I knew slumber wasn't going to come for me any time soon. Lynn was all ready 'counting sheep', by the time I came back to the bedroom. And I know that I would've been a major bitch, if I woke my friend up just so she can talk to me. So, I did one of the best things that I could do instead.

Well, it was the only thing I could do, which was head on downstairs to the Patrick Family's living room and watch some television.

******************************************************

'Infomercial, another infomercial, another infomercial, another one....'

The pad of my right thumb was starting to get numb from constantly being pressed against the rubber 'up arrow' button on the remote control. "I can't believe there is nothing on television, even though there are over a thousand channels on here."

Its 12:34am, Saturday morning, two hours since our departure from the city and I spending my time channel surfing. I eventually had come across a cable channel that aired old black-and-white movies and they was showing the opening credits to a movie that was starting, so I decided to watch.

*

"Do you like it?"

I heard him ask me. I can't see him, the room is too dark, but I can definitely feel him. I can feel his warm, hard body pressed against my bare one. His humid breath is fanning my face.

"Yes," I whispered back.

"Do you want me to continue?" he asked me.

"Yes," I heard myself say to him.

My voice was trembling and as if I was in a state of urgency. I caught a brief glimpse of what he was actually doing. It was an aerial shot and from what I saw, it was splendid. In that brief glimpse, I witness his hand cup my mons and his thick long fingers were caressing themselves against my slit and his thumb slowly drew circles on my clit. There was a brief glimpse of his furrowed brow and his bright silver eyes as he stared at me. A second after I witnessed that wonderful image, I felt my body ignite in pleasure, as if my body had finally caught on to what was happening... A loud moan escaped out of my mouth. I felt his full lips cover my own, swallowing the rest of my moans of pleasure, as his fingers continued their exploration.

"Do you want me to go faster?" he asked me, once removing his lips from mine.

I can hear my breath escaping out of my mouth in quick, light pants. Then, I felt his thumb pick up speed, as well as, added more pressure.

"More," I whimpered and begged him.

"Do you want more?"

"Yes, please," I moaned. I can feel myself about to fall deeper into pleasure.

"What do you want more of?"

"Please," I whimpered. "I can't say."

"Yes---

"Oh God," I moaned into one of the couch's cushions.

I had awakened up in the midst of my orgasm. During my spasms, I felt my body slamming against a solid object and I realized it was Ms. Patrick's couch cushions. I was laying face down-torso down on the couch, with my pelvis slightly raised above the couch and the fingers of my right hand were rubbing my sopping wet pussy, as the final waves of my dream-induced orgasm ran through my body.

"Mmmm," I groaned in delight.

'Damn, that shit felt good,' I thought as my hips pressed back down onto the couch and as I stared at the back rest part of the sofa. I rolled onto my back and gazed up at the ceiling. I come to the realization that I had fallen asleep while watching the movie, which led to sex dream about Malachi. Now, my thighs are sticky with my own juices. My bathrobe had managed to open up while I was asleep and has exposed the nightgown underneath. My nipples were hard like pebbles and so sensitive. They were so hard that I'm sure that if a stiff breeze blew across them, I would cum. 'Great, I'm horny now and there's no one to help with this,' I mentally concluded. His face flashed in my mind.

"Malachi," I sighed, with a low whisper.

My hands left their positions at my sides, by my hips and went on their own journey. The journey began at my knees, where the tips of my fingers teased the skin by lightly touching. As they traveled further up my body, my hands had gotten bolder by caressing the skin and causing goose pimples rise up. They found their way to the thin spaghetti straps of my nightgown. Slowly, I pushed them off of my shoulders and pulled them down a little, so I could free my breasts from the gown. I imagined that my fingertips were no longer mine, but were Malachi's. It wasn't my fingertips that were playing with my nipples, it was his fingers. It was his hand that was pinching my nipples and it was his other hand that was trailing down to my seeping, aching pussy. A soul-trembling groan left me, as my fingers reached its destination.

Knowing where this way of thinking will lead to and knowing there was a chance that I could get caught, caused my arousal to spike to a higher level. I closed my eyes and a flashback from my dream had entered my mind, the one that I was enjoying a few minutes before. Then, the fantasy had abruptly transformed into another one.

In my mind's eye, I wasn't surrounded by the darkness anymore, with the only comfort being the sound of Malachi's voice. Instead, Malachi and I were inside of my bedroom, on my queen-sized canopy bed. I was laying face down with my face halfway buried into a pillow. Malachi was lying on top of me: his upper body was hovering over mine, I can feel his eyes staring at me and I could feel every inch of his dick, as he thrust it and out of my pussy. One of his large hands is gripping my small wrists and is pressing them down onto the mattress, above my head and right against the headboard. Occasionally, this massive hand would release my wrists just so he could trace the koi fish tattoo on my left hip or to give my big, round ass a hard slap.

In reality, I can feel I am on the verge of cumming, so I stopped playing with my breasts and added some more members to the party below. As my right fingers frantically rubbed at my clit, the left fingers had become a meager substitute for Malachi's cock.

"Oh God, Malachi fuck me with your cock," I murmured, still stuck in my fantasy, as I rode my fingers.

I felt the familiar duo sensations of tightness and tingling bubbling up to the surface. When I did cum, I bit my bottom lip to keep from screaming (and to keep myself from waking up both Lynn and Malachi) and I managed to bite so hard that there was a faint taste of blood running along my taste buds. Tiny earthquakes of intense pleasure rip through my body, which gradually turn into tremors that withered down to little jolts inside of my womb. As I was sliding back down from that small bit of heaven, I rolled onto my side and stared at the couch's back rest. I removed my fingers that were coated with my nectar and I brought them to my lips. 'Always sweet with a slight tang' I concluded, as I sucked on my fingertips.

"Shit, I need to have one of those orgasms more often," I said to myself, amused and panting, after I came back down to Earth.

After having that incredible orgasm that left the inside of my bathrobe and my nightgown drenched in my fluid, I decided to call it a night. As I fixing myself up, I recognize that I was thirsty.

Without turning on any of the kitchen's lights, I walked into the kitchen. I used the moonlight that shone through the kitchen's bay window, as a guide. I walked over to the dish rack that was on the counter top, to receive a glass. With the glass in my right hand, I went over to the refrigerator.

"Apple juice, grape juice, wine coolers..." I mumbled under my breath, as I was checking out the contents that were in the refrigerator. "...Beer, beer, more beer..." I chuckled. I assumed the beer belonged to Malachi. Once I nudged the six pack of Miller Light out of the way, I found what I was looking for. "Aha, water," I stated as I grabbed the plastic pitcher from out of the fridge.

As I made myself something to drink, I sat on the counter top and stared into the darkness of the room. After downing my first glass, I made myself another one. 'I wonder why I am so thirsty,' I joked. After enjoying my flavorless, tasty beverage, I placed my glass in the sink and I went to place the pitcher of water back in the refrigerator. After I placed the pitcher inside of the fridge, I received the biggest fright of my life, as the fridge's door closed.

Once I set the pitcher in the fridge and stood up straight, an unknown force had grabbed me at my waist and pulled me away from the fridge. I let out a blood-curling scream and before I could release another one, an object covered my mouth. I felt my body being pressed against a large solid object. My body started to violently thrash against this unknown force, trying to break free but this thing wouldn't let go of me.

"You're going to hurt yourself, if you continue to move about like that."

I stopped moving. It was then I realized that the foreign object that was covering my mouth was a hand and the solid force that I pressed against was another person. And it was not just any person.

"Malachi," I screamed, but it was smothered due to his hand was covering my mouth.

"Yes?" he said, nonchalantly, as if we were having an ordinary conversation. "Would you like to say something?" He removed his hand off of my face, but he placed it on my neck instead. His fingers gently wrapped themselves around my neck. I knew that if I started to scream, he would place that giant hand back on my mouth.

"W-w-w-what are y-y-you d-d-doing?" I asked him. The fear that I was feeling was definitely evident.

"What am I doing? I think you all ready know that answer to that question."

"W-w-w-why?" I stuttered.

'Chloe, what are you doing?' my mind screamed at me. 'Struggle, fight, do something instead of standing here like a dummy.' As if he could read my mind, I felt his forearm press tighter against my stomach.

"What, did you not think you could parade around here dress like your fucking whore and think that no one was going to notice?" At that moment, he pressed his groin against my butt and I felt a hard, large bulge.

'Oh God, he is going to rape me,' was the notion that popped into my head.

I stammered out a "W-w-what?"

Malachi brought his face closer to the right side of my head, the sensitive area where my ear was located. The feeling on his warm breath tickling my ear caused goose pimples to flare up on my forearms.

"Then, there's that little fucking show that you pulled on the couch..."

'Oh shit,' my mind groaned.

At that moment, I silently wish that I had the ability to disappear. So, instead, I had started up my efforts to free myself from his clutches. The act of trying to obtain my freedom was a pointless one, because he was too goddamned strong. His grip on my neck became tighter and his other arm tightened too harshly around my midsection.

"I thought you were done with the moving thing, Chloe," he growled into my ear. Both of grips had become tighter and I felt the air from my lungs was forced out of my body. The gasps from my mouth had reached my ears as I was being suffocated.

"Malachi please let me go," my voice squeaked.

"What?" he said, in a not-so-subtle smart ass kind of way.

"I can't breathe," my voice rasped.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Yes please," I pleaded with my voice sounding hoarse.

"Do you promise to stop struggling?" Malachi asked me, as his grip tightened on my neck.

My face was beginning to feel numb, due to the loss of circulation. A series of images popped into my head: an image of my corpse being ditched into a wooded area, a look of distraught on my mother's face and an image of being strangled to death by a crazed Neo-Nazi with a bad dye job. Those thoughts had caused hot tears to run down my face and fall down into the unknown.

"Yes," I sobbed.

There was a bit of silence between afterwards. His grip was still tight around my neck and I still could feel all of that precious air around me, being unable to infiltrate my lungs. Then, suddenly, he released my neck and his grip around my waist entirely. I collapsed onto the kitchen's linoleum floor with a sickening thud, but I didn't notice the descent, because I was too busy trying regain the ability to breathe. The make out session between me and the available air in the kitchen didn't last too long, because I felt Malachi grab a handful of my thick hair and gathered me into his arms again.

"No," I heard myself scream. "Get the fuck off of me!"

"Now, now," he chuckled, before dragging me off of the floor and was half-dragging and halfway carrying me into the basement, where this monster slept.

My hands went out to grab any object that I could grab: the stairs, the hand railing and I even felt my fingernails scrapped against the walls. I also screamed out for assistance for Lenora, for assistance from God and for anybody's help, but my shouts for aid had gone ignored.

Once we reached the door that led to his bedroom, which was at the base of the staircase, he kicked the door open with his foot. His bedroom/basement's bright lights stung my eyes for a brief second, once we entered inside of his room. I didn't make a full inventory of his bedroom, until he had dropped me on the carpeted floor, in the middle of the room. Once I did take a gander around his bedroom that 'color from skin draining-stomach flip-flopping' situation had returned.

"Oh my God," I whispered.

The best way I can describe his room is: if the interior designer from Applebee's was hired by a Neo-Nazi, who needed an interior decorator to decorate his romper room, then they would have this room's decoration in mind. There were Nazi memorabilia everywhere. There were framed pictures of famed segregationists and reproduction photos of lynching parties mounted on the walls. There were other memorabilia dedicated to the Nazi regime on his wall as well. But then there were innocent, non-racist things like old street signs and pictures of his family members on the walls too. Positioned in one of the corners of his bedroom, there was weight set with a bench press and dumb bells resting on the floors; there was a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that was in the corner that was across from his bed and there was entertainment system positioned a few feet in front of his bed. Then, there were two other objects in that room had captured my attention: one of those things was a dog kennel cage. I felt goose pimples when I noticed the door to the cage was opened. Then, there was a flag placed right above his bed's head board. It was a red flag with a swastika symbol in the middle. While staring at it, I felt like I was at some type of worshipping altar and I was the sacrificial object.

"It's a beauty, isn't it?" he announced, breaking me out of my reverie. I turned my attention towards him. He was standing in front of bedroom's door, locking the second lock out of the three locks that he has on the damn thing. "The flag is an actual flag that was hanging in the Madison Square Garden during the night Hitler had given a speech. It's very valuable."

I picked myself up off of the floor and straightened my clothes. "I'm sure you can get a lot of money for it, if you go on 'The Antiques Road show,'" I declared, with a voice so low that I don't think Malachi heard me. "Malachi, listen to me..." I stated, trying to reason with him. "Please, don't do what you're about to do to me. Please, let me go..."

As I was trying to reason with him, I notice he was walking towards me. There was this bone-chilling, predatory grin on his handsome face. I watched his hands slip underneath the elastic waistband of his black sweatpants and pull out the bottom of his tank top.

"Oh God," I murmured.

He chuckled, which pissed me off. I felt like he wasn't considering my feelings; that he considered me as a lesser human than he was.

"You say 'God' a lot, you know that's blasphemy, right?" Malachi's leisure stroll towards me had come to a halt, when there was at least less than a foot of space between the two of us. Once I seen his hands move away from his sides, I jumped a few inches away from him. He chuckled again, which caused my anger to increase. He ended up folding his arms across his chest.

"Well, thank you Father Patrick, for the fucking theology lesson," I said to him, sarcastically, feeling my anger bubbling over. "You have two goddamn choices, Malachi: release me and I won't tell anybody about this. Or I will escape and I will make sure that your ass will buried underneath a goddamned---

The next thing I know, I was slammed into one of the walls and Malachi was invading my personal space. Just like before, my neck was getting acquainted with that massive paw he calls a hand and he was squeezing my throat. Our faces were centimeters away from each other and he was shouting into my face.

"Listen, you black bitch, don't you ever fuckin' tell me what to do, you fuckin' black nig—

Before Malachi could finish pronouncing that vile word, I slapped him on the side of his face. I used so much velocity that his head had rocked to the side and he hand released my neck.

"Don't you ever speak to me that way again!" I shouted at him.

Then, I slapped him again.

"You are a racist piece of shit!"

Then, like the non-fighting person that I am, I begun to unleash a barrage of sissy, wimpy hand slaps onto him. He managed to fend off my attack and ended up pushing me back into the wall. Before I could defend myself yet again, he grabbed my throat again, but he lifted me off the ground this time. The tips of my toes were brushing up against carpet. I stared down at his enraged face as I tried to pry his hand off my throat by scratching at the wrist and forearm, putting my $35.00 manicure to work.

"Let me go," I growled. "Let me fucking go, you racist asshole!" I demanded, once again, after he refused.

My attack on his forearm wasn't working, so I started to attack his face. His left cheek was all ready a bright shade of red, due to the first two slaps that I've given him. After a few more slaps, both of his cheeks had taken on a maroon color.

"Let me go," I whimpered, feeling the first stages of losing consciousness. I felt my stubbornness and my need to fight back weakened as well. "Let me go, I'll do whatever you want," I begged.

The last things I can remember seeing were Malachi's face, the carpet and then the pipes that were on the ceiling.