by StatStat



  Soft sunlight rouses me from a pleasant dream. I feel the cool smoothness of the sheets against my body, my legs and my junk. I have a little bit of an erection. It’s the way I like to wake up. There’s a soft pressure of a hand in the center of my chest and I open my eyes. A pretty face, self-assured, long light-blue hair, crystalline eyes staring down at me from inches above, biting her lip to suppress a grin that the corners of her mouth betray anyway. She lets it loose on me and I’m struck, still half in the world of sleep and not thinking yet of how I don’t know who she is, because she feels so right. I just bathe in the radiance of her, lip hanging slightly open.

   I start to remember my waking life and she’s not in it - who is this beautiful creature? - and the edges of my consciousness creep down her bare skin, down, down..... the skin doesn’t end, but even though parts of me want to glance I can’t tear my eyes from her eyes. She speaks with that gaze and that smile, playful yet anything but mocking. Then I feel her other hand on me down there. It wraps around, gentle but assertive. A handshake. Another “hi” without words.

   She rolls off a little to the side, rests her head on a hand but keeps her eyes and her hand on me. Her other hand, the first, stays on my chest, light but firm. Stay. I’m naked, this naked stranger woman is in my bed, she’s touching me, something’s wrong if this isn’t a dream... but I can’t bring myself to care enough to stop it, looking at her.

   She works her hand like a master, in a smooth, undulating motion. She knows me too well for a stranger, knows my buttons, switches, the secret valves that are supposed to be hidden from the outside world. She doesn’t let me blow, she keeps me at full mast and full steam. I feel like a machine being worked by a master of the art, pushed to the full. My breaths come in a steady, ragged rhythm. She sees. She’s watching my pleasure with a kind of sweet awe. And she’s keeping me where I am. I can’t keep my hips from bucking, even though her kind hand on my chest kindly implores me not to move.

   I open my lips to say something to her. There’s nothing to say; I feel like she knows everything about me somehow. She puts the fingers of her non-working hand to my lips.

   “I want to give you a gift. A big one - It will change everything. So you have to want it.”

   Then she moves her hand a different way, and I’m right on the edge again. But she keeps a firm grip on me as I hang above that thrilling threshold, and holds me there. I can’t help rolling my head back, even as thirsty as my eyes are for her. I’m hardly moving for my closeness. Little twitches, that’s all, back arched and my mouth wide open, hands clenching the bedframe at either side.

   She shifts and I see her face again through my slitted eyelids, craning around to look into mine. She looks at me, a brazen voyeur, appreciating me like a piece of art, loving every inch of the swelling ecstasy carved into my features.

   “It will be wonderful, but nothing will be the same.” All I can see is her eyes, staring raptly into mine. Clear, deep, sincere, they hold me in an embrace. “You have to be ready for that before this happens. I need you to want it, as unbelievable as it will be.”

   I struggle for a minute with the strangeness of it all. But thinking is being done down below, by my penis in her hands, and by my heart. And I trust her completely even though I don’t even know her name.

   “Do you want it?”

   I don’t need to know her name.

   “Yes!” I laugh, and I smile and shudder and groan, and her touch enfolds me, surrounds my shaft and makes gorgeous love to it, stroking and squishing and pulsing... She can’t be doing all this with her hand! With all my self-control I manage to look down again and there she is on top of me in her full glory, her naked thighs straddling my hips, she’s murmuring something forceful, something which entwines itself around and between us and works itself into our rhythm, poised to release if I do. I’m deep inside her, and I’m building fast towards an end.

   Building towards an end like I’ve never had before. I realize I’m already long past where I should have come. What’s going on? But she gazes at me with those arch eyebrows and and that keen look - “Do you wantit?”

    I have no idea what it is, but I believe her when she insists it will be nothing like I’ve ever experienced in my life. I don’t care. “Yes,” I whisper.

   Her smile almost makes me come right then. “Don’t worry. I’ll have plenty of time after.” She starts humping me again, works her wet vagina up and down along my penis, gripping me inside her. Her nipples are swollen hard; her lips are hanging open and her brow is furrowed over closed eyes. Then they open and fix on me.

   “Take it,” she tells me.

   And the little bit of inhibition that I have left falls away. I make a choice and I go over the edge. She lets me down somewhere I never knew I could go. As the orgasm grips me, deep and sweet and hard and long, my body tightens, makes a choice of its own completely separate from the one I’ve made. It chooses rose polished granite. She sees my desperation, my vulnerability, witnesses the most secret parts of my spilled out for her taking as the feeling of transformation floods me. My phallus hardens; my hips harden; my whole body hardens from my core out to my fingers, a petrifying quiver riding atop the spasm of my climax that stretches on, even past the last shuddering, involuntary groan-cry which croaks silent as stone claims all of me. All of me. The bedframe groans too; and holds, miraculously, leaving me poised, a monument of unfettered passion, calcified into a single eternal thrust, penetrating with an endless gratification into whoever chooses to mount me.

    She’s the one on me. I’m still inside her, though of course I’ll never have any choice in that now. Every last sculpted inch of me is hers. Her eyes flutter, she takes a deep slow breath and pushes herself up slightly, hair hanging down around my unmoving stone expression of complete disinhibition. She looks at me with a gentle brush on the cheek while I can do nothing but stare and gape. Through fixed eyes and stilled cry, with every fiber of my soul, I pray that she will take me now, as I took her gift.

   She flexes her back in a curve, straightens her belly, squares her shoulders, and takes another breath. And with another little curl of the lips at me, she enthusiastically tightens around my lower parts and starts masturbating herself on me.