Wish s Chapter 3 Reluctantly I grant my husband s birthday wish
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Make A Wish Part 3 free porn video
Make a Wish Part 3
Copyright Kristy Leigh 2003. All rights reserved.
3.
Danny halted in mid-step, transfixed by what he saw.
The girl had changed. She was different. Not substantially,
not in any way he should have noticed - but she was
different nonetheless. More distinct, more... herself.
There was no other way to describe it. Her eyes had
deepened to a clear glacial blue; her hair shimmered like
fine white silk. A thousand subtle alterations had taken
place over the last hour or so, from the tone of her skin
to the smooth curve of her thighs. Almost as if she were...
what? Transforming? No. Evolving? Closer, but not quite.
Developing? Yes, that was it. She was coming into focus,
like an image sharpening to a higher resolution.
He raised a hand to his throat and drew it slowly down to
his cleavage, revelling in the aria of sensations his
fingertips raised over his (her) body. The desire to caress
that soft, ripening form was overwhelming. And why not? She
was beautiful. Staggeringly beautiful, impossibly
beautiful. He roamed his gaze over her lithe, pliant
figure, indulging his voyeuristic impulses.
Of course, he could do a lot more than look. He could
touch. Touch her in ways he'd never touched a woman before.
His girlfriends had always refused him any kind of intimacy
(they invariably dumped him as soon as he tried to get
physical), but who was going to stop him now? It was his
body; he could do anything he pleased. Jesus, he could take
her back to the bed and live out every panting,
masturbatory fantasy he'd had since he was twelve years
old. And why shouldn't he, for fucksake?! He had every
right. And anyway -
(she wants it)
Yes, she wanted it. Why else would she have dragged him
over here to the cheval? Why else would she be posing in
the mirror, flaunting her breasts and thighs and underwear
like some cheap Frisco streetwalker? Yes, she wanted it.
They all wanted it, no matter what they said in the women's
magazines. He'd learnt that much through painful
experience. Look how often he'd been ditched in favour of
someone better looking; some rich, fast-talking scumbag
with a leather jacket and a Porsche. The sort of guy who
treated women with the most abject contempt, lying and
cheating and tossing them aside like used condoms once he'd
had enough -
(oh, they want it alright. They just don't want it from
YOU)
"Fuck off," Danny replied. Why should he be overlooked,
simply because he'd lived off welfare cheques all his adult
life? That's what he resented most about women. Despite all
their self-righteous, feminist rhetoric about justice and
equality and everything else, they still dismissed him as
some worthless, unattractive failure. Lower on the scale of
humanity than wife-beaters, racists or petty criminals. And
Christ, if convicted felons were allowed conjugal visits,
why wasn't he?!
Well, he finally had an opportunity to make up for the
years of frustration he'd been forced to endure. He had
access to a young girl's body. And not just any young girl
- no, she was a nymph, a goddess, the Erotic Virgin every
man secretly yearns for. He'd be a fool if he didn't take
advantage of the situation. It wasn't as if he'd be hurting
anybody, after all. It wouldn't be a rape, because there'd
be no victim. As he'd reasoned before, Danni wasn't a human
being, she was just some excess storage space in the
emotional warehouse of his brain. It certainly wasn't her
body, it was his. Which meant he could fondle and play with
it any way he chose.
Unaware he was employing the same logic used by generations
of serial killers and rapists; Danny looked into the mirror
and slipped the bra straps off his shoulders. He'd
forgotten about the antique shop, forgotten the Gipsy and
her magic looking glass. None of that mattered any more.
The only thing that mattered now was satisfying his libido,
his voracious, carnal appetite.
He tugged the brassiere down, exposing his breasts to the
mirror. The breath caught in his throat as he surveyed
their firm, supple contours. His nipples were as huge and
dark as cherries, their carmine tips throbbing with
arousal. He could almost see them pulsing in time to his
heartbeat. A gentle, sensuous warmth began to spread
through his torso, flowing downward through his belly.
He cupped his palms under his breasts, carefully slipping
his fingers over the engorged nipples. A flare of pain
erupted from each point, as sharp and bright as the edge of
a razor. Danny gaped in shock, looked down, and -
inexplicably - squeezed again. Gingerly at first, then with
increasing force. Streaks of pleasure lanced through his
body, all the way down to his tummy button. Oh my GOD, he
thought, arching his back, this is GOOD. Better than Cosmo
said it was, better than he'd ever imagined. It hurt -
bordered on agony, to tell the truth - but he liked it.
And this was only the beginning.
Eyes wandering over his reflection, Danny lowered one hand
to the trim of his panties and slid his fingers under the
red lace. A surge of adrenalin seemed to hit his
bloodstream. His knees weakened, the room lurched beneath
his feet. He felt a surge of delight in his nether regions,
far more intense than anything he'd experienced as a male.
It was alien, exotic, unfamiliar. And the most wonderful
thing he'd ever known.
Was this how it felt to be a girl? He inched his way a
little further south, threading his fingertips through the
downy blond thatch at the junction of his legs. He'd have
to proceed with caution; Danny knew from a thousand Cosmo
articles that the feminine organ (what was it called?
Clitoris? Clytoris?) was unspeakably sensitive. He'd have
to go gently, at least at first. He explored a little
further, swallowing air in swift, panting spurts. God, he
felt aroused. If he'd been a man, he would have been
hovering on the brink of orgasm.
His fingers encountered a series of complex folds, moist
and slick with some hot, sticky ejaculate. Lubricating
fluid, Danny guessed. Her panties were almost saturated
with it. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back,
moaning through half-parted lips. A wild, transgressive joy
seized him, so profound it was almost a bolt of panic. It
wasn't only the illicit thrill of probing a girl's trinket
box. It was her defenceless, helpless state. It was as if
he was inside her, violating her semi-naked body by sheer
will. It was power. Power he'd been seeking for as long as
he could remember.
Her vestibule was an intricate, fleshy rose, covered with
tiny bulges and dimples. Lubricant seeped from its pulpy
heart (oozing with pussy-juice, Danny thought, relishing
the obscenity for no apparent reason), soaking her upper-
thighs. He delved into her tight little girl-thing, feeling
it melt in his hand. So unfamiliar; an alien landscape
waiting to be mapped and charted.
The minutes drifted by in a purple fog. His fingers darted
back and forth, teasing and tickling and nibbling away like
a minnow. His temperature rose to feverish levels, he could
barely stand upright. He found himself shivering like a
leaf in a hurricane; his belly was strumming like an
overtuned guitar string.
Huge, mauve stars suddenly exploded across his field of
vision. His index finger had brushed against something. An
inconspicuous bump near the top of her cleft. A hair-
trigger, waiting to be squeezed. The slightest prod would
send him into a vast, spiralling climax. He paused in his
crude fumblings, unwilling to launch himself over the
precipice. It was too soon, he wasn't ready yet. He wanted
to get his fingers inside first, feel his way around that
soft, dripping labyrinth.
(i want to fuck her)
Yeah, that was right, no sense denying it now. He wanted to
screw her, hump her, spread her legs and make her scream
for mercy. May have lost his weapon somewhere along the
line, but he still had his fingers to work with. They'd do
the job just as well, given his unique circumstances. Who
needs a harpoon when an awl was sufficient for the task?
The girl was practically begging him to mount her saddle -
Jesus, she was wetting her pants with expectation. As he'd
said before, she wanted it. She may not actually exist, but
she wanted it all the same.
Danny's questing fingertips followed the line of her cleft,
searching for an opening. It had to be here somewhere, all
women had one. His pulse was cantering in his head, his
tummy began spasm, shaking his frame from crown to heel. He
was approaching some physical zenith; he wouldn't be able
to postpone his orgasm much longer. He drove his middle
finger into the centre of her labia, groaning with
exhilaration. So close, so close...
Realisation burst on him with blinding urgency. She was a
virgin. She had to be, she was only born yesterday. That
was why he couldn't find the opening. It was blocked by
some kind of membrane, he remembered that from high school.
Well, that shouldn't prove a problem. From what he'd read,
it wasn't very strong, he could probably pierce it with a
little effort. Might sting a little, but that didn't
matter. Most girls lost their virginity by before they
turned fifteen, so obviously, it was no -
(what?)
She was here. Danni. He could feel her presence all around
him. Growing, spreading out through the pathways and
conduits of his mind. Danny stepped away from the mirror,
almost tripping over in his desperation to escape that
haunting, alluring image. She'd tricked him, tempted him
with her body. Distracted him long enough to take
possession of his consciousness once more. The little whore
had seduced him!! How could he have been so blind, so
gullible, so fucking stupid?
(no! NO!! STOP IT, DON'T!!)
This couldn't be happening. She was nothing, just a
collection half-forgotten memories and infantile day-
dreams. She had no reality, no identity - she wasn't a
person, for Chrissake! She couldn't drive him out, couldn't
usurp his birthright this way. He was a man, not some
mincing teenaged slut. He'd proven his right to exist. It
was his life - miserable pointless waste though it was -
and she couldn't have it.
The transition hit him with seismic force. There was no
gradual blending of the waters this time. It was a storm, a
cyclone. Danny fought to maintain his dominant position,
but felt himself being swept away in the deluge. His psyche
began to dissipate before that torrent of thought and
emotion. A chasm seemed to open up beneath him, an endless,
black ravine beneath his conscious mind. Falling into the
abyss, he clawed desperately for purchase. Once, twice,
three times -
and was gone.
TO BE CONTINUED email me for more:
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