Ravaged
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RAVAGED
Chapter One
It’s past midnight, now Saturday. She’s naked, on the bed, only a rumpled, plain white sheet partially covering her glistening body. The heat wave seems endless, the temperature hovering in the low to mid nineties, occasionally higher. Mixed with the ever increasing mid west humidity, the muggy nights give little relief, if any.
The small rotating table fan gives little comfort in the flickering shadows as it whirrs precariously on the sill ledge of the open bedroom window. What circulating breeze it gives off consists only of more heat mixed with the faint stench of the horse stalls in the stable across the gravel driveway.
Her restless body twists, turns, her long brown hair sticking, matting across her bare shoulders as she struggles to fall asleep. The cool, actually lukewarm shower she soaked under before going to bed has only mixed with her perspiration as the stifling night drags endlessly on.
Kicking the tangled sheet off, away from her feet, flipping on her backside, legs curling, her right arm rising above her head, her left hand slides slowly down across her flat stomach, slipping between her sticky thighs.
Twisting onto her right side, her glistening, bare breasts sway, jiggle, and press together, practically adhering as her naked body arches into a serpentine position on the stuffy mattress. The wrinkled pillow rest momentarily between her outstretched arm and the side of hr face as she’s relentless in continuing to try to find a more comfortable position.
Frustrated, realizing it’s going to be another long night, she does what she’s becoming accustomed t doing this long, hot summer. Closing her eyes, sighing, she goes limp, lets her fingers begin t gently massage her freshly shaven pubic mound, barely touching, caressing her freshly shaven pubic mound, barely touching, caressing, circling wider with each motion of her wrist.
In moments, she’s laying on her back, softly moaning, feeling the tip of her index finger slipping between the puffy folds of her labia, flicking the flap of her moist clit hood. Pressing her thighs together, sliding her fingers into her slit, she lets her thumb gently, softly caress the engorging nub of her tingling clitoris.
She can taste the salty flavor of her perspiration as she slowly allows her tongue to glide across her parted lips as she tilts her head back into the pillow. Several slow minutes pass as her body quivers, occasionally gyrates as breathing slower, softer, her body becomes more comfortable, the heat less noticeable.
?Uummm? Ahhh. Ohhh!? Each breath brings its own soft moan. Each flick of her thumb, poke of a finger brings another twitch of her hips. The pace gradually quickens on its own. Fingers flinching, sliding just a little deeper into her quivering, wet slit, her hips begin to arch up off the damp mattress, twist, pressing firmer against her jerking hand. HHead craned back, neck stretching, her right hand gripping the pillow, pulling it against her shoulder, the side of her face; she presses her index finger toward her thumb, compressing her swollen clitoris.
?Uumm!? Uuummm!? Uummm!? Her hips rocking, they twitch in rhythm as she boarders on the sublime, in the full stage of masturbating herself. Stroking, tugging, manipulating, she’s well past the discomfort for the moment.
Curling her thumb, finger, tugging, she reflexively presses harder, her nails digging into her sensitive flesh. ?Agghhhh!?
Her hips flinching, the pain’s not unlike an electrical shock as she jerks her hand away, quickly raising her arm above her head, interlocking her fingers behind her neck, again, she fully awake.
Legs trembling on the damp sheets, the breeze off the whirling fan flowing across her sweat drenched bare flesh, her breathing’s labored. She can feel the sticky dampness of the pre cum between her legs, across her thighs, oozing from her quivering slit, mixing with her perspiration.
Sliding the pillow up from under her head, she tosses it across her face, pulls the sides of its separating cover down over her eyes, ears, gripping the damp material between her clenched fists. She realizes it’s going to be another long, painfully hot night as she’s again restless, but not for the reason she’s thinking.
Outside, unknown to her, a man has been standing alongside her open window. Excitedly watching thru the flickering fan blades, in the haze circulating on her wooden, roofless porch, he’s spent the past half hour or so admiring her nakedness, and the show she’s been putting on, obviously just for him!?
He first saw her in her tight blue jean shorts, skimpy halter top, riding her horse around the edge of the property. He’s even seen her once, skinny dipping on the stream in her rear woods, naked, big titties, flat stomach and long legs.
The best thing is he knows she now lives alone. The last couple months, especially on weekend’s, he’s spent a lot of time sneaking around the outside of her secluded farm house. He watches her, usually late at night. Several times over the last few weeks, he’s snuck right up to her window, watched her, naked like she is now.
Wanting to do more then watch, he’s found out it takes time to build up the courage. It takes time to prepare properly. Now he silently stares, transfixed, thinking of how now’s the time, now he’s prepared. For the past few minutes he’s watched as her naked form’s twisted, turned every few moments, her firm, glistening breasts being seductively swayed, bounced, teasing him. Yes, he’s even watched that incredible, chiseled body before, but tonight’s the night he’s going to have her, he’s going into her bedroom, possess her.
There’s just enough light from the moon thru the haze for his eyesight t adjust to the bedroom’s darkness, the shadows away from her bed. Gripping, squeezing the handle of the brown leather satchel he’s carrying in his left hand, it slides, brushing against the sill.
She moans while twisting. He freezes, holds his breath, watches, just for a brief moment as she seemingly irritated, flips onto her right side, her exposed firm breasts again bouncing, swaying. He can hear her agitated groans, then he relaxes, seeing the fingernails of her left hand scraping down across the rounded curve of her bare thighs as she jerks, unconsciously swats at a mosquito flittering across her rounded hip.
Rubbing his hand against the crotch of his blue jeans, he feels the hardening of his throbbing shaft. She’s again taunting, teasing him, her left hand slowly slipping up across her melon size breasts, gently flicking across the nub of her nipple before again sliding up behind her neck.
Feeling his swollen cock twitching, he stares in anticipation for the moment he can slide the screen aside, enter the room, and use the bag of devices he’s brought just for her. He can barely hold himself back, anticipating, listening to the rhythmic sound of the circulating fan as she again spreads out naked, lays there, spread eagled, stretching, displaying everything’s she’s got, just for him!
Even in the semidarkness he ogles her perfect body, athletic, tanned, her nipples thick, hard and glistening, her pubic mound freshly shaven.
He’s already mentally visualizing later, ropes, stretching her arms, legs to the four corners of the bed, the tight bindings digging into her bound flesh, spending the entire night using everything in his bag on her.
Still unable to sleep, impossible to get comfortable, totally stretched out, naked above the sheets, she listens to the steady whirring of the fan, oscillating, rattling against the screen, the warm air blowing back and forth across her sweaty, sticky bare flesh, thinking for the hundredth time this summer how irritating it is that the air conditioning’s broken.
Bowing, she flips one of the pillows under the small of her back, forcing her breasts to jaunt outward, spread toward her shoulders, allowing what draft there is to circulate upwards from between her spread thighs to across her bare breasts as again she stretches out spread eagled.
Lying motionless, head tilted back on the mattress, she feels the traces of moisture cooling, trickling between her thighs, down the puffy folds of her labia, along with the added pleasure of the circulating air flowing up from between her legs, past her stomach, hardening nipples.
As the light of the shifting moon begins to shine through the screen, through the flickering blades, reflecting off the wall, annoying her, she tugs the other pillow across her eyes, leaving only her pouting lips uncovered, her elbows up, laying flat on the bed. The air tingling, whisking between her thighs, she slowly presses the soles of her feet together, pulls her legs upward, knees bending, wider apart, sliding up across the mattress.
Gripping his satchel, continuing to stare in from the side of the window, he feels the slightest patter of rain. Thick, random drops splash across his shoulders. He’s transfixed with the sight of her spread, stretching thighs, her shaven vagina fully visible from between her bare legs. Glancing up toward the clouding sky, he decides the wait’s over.
Her eyes remain covered under the pillow as he hesitates, slowly reaching toward the window. Ever so slowly, he grips the sill, very carefully placing his fingers to the tight of the old style folding screen, sliding it gently to the left. The fan continues to rattle, rocking, scratching against the metal mat of the screen until he can grip it with his free hand, hold it steady, watching her every movement, twitch.
Waiting for a minute, a couple minutes, he finally slides the base of the fan across the wooden sill, against the edge of the window frame. The time’s arrived. Tiptoeing, lifting his left leg across the low wooden threshold, he silently crawls through the opening, still gripping the satchel in his other hand. The sound of the fan whirring, now was mixing with the steady patter of the increasing raindrops fill the background as he slowly, stealthily steps beside the bed.
Looking down in the darkness at her flat stomach raising, lowering, her breasts spreading with each breath, he can smell the bath oil mixing with the mugginess of the heavy night air. He can barely resist grabbing; tweaking hr rock hard nipples, twisting her bare clit, as he carefully sits the satchel on the floor, reaches into its open top. Grabbing a clear, zipped plastic bag from the contents, he unzips, removes the soaked cloth. Unfolding it as he drops the bag on the floor, he glances toward her covered face.
Hesitating one last moment, his heart pounding, he firmly pushes his right hand down across the pillow, positions the soggy cloth directly over her nose, mouth. Pressing, pushing both hands firmly downward, he watches her body instantly jerk to life.
Jerking, twisting, gyrating, she struggles, grunts, kicks as he holds tight with both hands. Letting his body lean over the bed, he presses her into the mattress. Startled, panicking, her hands claw the air, her fingers scraping at his arms. Rasping for breath, the stench of the chemicals fill her flailing nostrils, mouth as the bitter taste gags her. Head whirling, spasmodic, her breasts flail, her hips jerk, twist under his weight until gradually, her shoulders slumping, her neck goes limp, her body relaxes. Slipping into unconsciousness, she’s his.
End part One
Mckenna
- 28.10.2021
- 21
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