A Fistful Of Sand Book 1Chapter 6: A Time To Learn free porn video

The room was dark. Maybe it wasn't even a room, but it was definitely dark, or maybe it was just big. The walls were black, or maybe the walls were so far away that they appeared black ... or maybe there were no walls. The room, space, whatever, seemed infinite, yet claustrophobic. There was no wind, but a fog was shrouding the floor. There were no lamps, but there was light enough to see.

"Hello?" Heather called out. There was no response, not even an echo. "HELLO!!" Silence. "Anyone there?" she said softly, mostly to herself. She shivered, but it wasn't because she was cold.

'Am I dreaming?' she thought to herself. 'Then again, if I'm dreaming, how would I know it was a dream? Get a grip, Heather. This isn't the Matrix!'

"Hello."

Heather spun around at the sound of the voice. It came from a small child, maybe seven or eight years old. He had a face that seemed too serious for a boy his age.

"You're pretty." He was blushing bright red, looking mostly at his feet, or at least where his feet would be beneath the fog. He occasionally glanced up and, catching her eye, he'd quickly drop his gaze.

She shivered again, and this time it WAS because it got cold. But it wasn't a drop in temperature. It was a cold fear. She looked up beyond the boy and saw a dark shape walking toward them. It was obscured by fog and darkness, its lines blurred. Man, woman, she couldn't tell. But whatever or whoever it was, it oozed danger — life and death danger.

It lifted an appendage that seemed to point in her general direction. "You're mine," it whispered. It was a whisper, but it wasn't softened by distance. If she thought such a thing possible, she would have said that he, or maybe she, was whispering in her ear.

The boy seemed not to hear, he was still looking at his feet. She wanted to scream and get him out of the way, but her voice wasn't working, her feet wouldn't move.

"You're really pretty. I've never had a girlfriend before. Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked, still not able to look at her and still not noticing the danger behind him.

The dark figure raised an arm, shrouded in black fog. A black claw shot from his arm, directly toward her heart. She could see it was tethered to the dark figure by an impossibly black chord. It was coming right at her at incredible speed and she braced for the pain when it struck. But the boy stepped into the chain's path. It bounced off him with a resounding metallic clank. He didn't seem to notice. Heather stared at the boy in horror. "Don't look at me like that. Really, I've never had a girl friend before. I didn't used to be this strong." The boy flexed his arms like a body builder. The image of this scrawny kid posing like a muscle man would have been funny if not for the danger Heather saw they were in.

The dark figure moved to the right, positioning himself to get a clear shot. She knew it was a man now, the lines becoming clearer. He reared back and again the claw shot from his hand. Heather again braced for the pain that was sure to come. Again, it didn't. The boy had taken a step and again placed himself in the path of the hook. This time the boy was knocked off his feet. He stood and replaced his glasses, one of the lenses was cracked. He seemed to be hurt, but he was trying not to let it show.

He closed his eyes and a series of paper screens formed around the two of them, like ones she'd seen in Japanese restaurants.

He limped closer to her. "Don't worry, I built a fortress. We're safe here." Heather wanted to scream that his paper fortress wouldn't stop a fly, but her voice wouldn't come. "I have a secret," he said, tears barely being held back. He limped closer to her and grabbed her hand.

Tears were pouring down Heather's face. Why couldn't she do anything? Why couldn't she warn him, or comfort him, or protect him?

She bent down to listen, but her eyes were pulled back up to see shadows playing against the screen. She knew the dark figure was getting ready for another attack, that he was just behind the too thin paper. But she couldn't move.

"I ... I lo-"

The boy's sentence was cut short as he stood there, silently trying to make his mouth move. Heather knew what had just happened. She couldn't look down face the truth. She didn't need to see the blood trickling out from the corner of his mouth. She didn't need hear his gurgling, wet breath, his last words swallowed forever. She didn't need to see a chain so black it seemed to absorb the light around it that went from his small, delicate back through the paper screen to the dark figure's black gloved hand.

Finally her voice worked. She screamed and everything went black.

Heather's eyes opened. In the movies when someone wakes from a nightmare, they sit bolt upright, gasping for breath. But it never happens that way. Her eyes simply opened and she took a deep breath — a hurried deep breath, like it was the first she'd taken in hours. The only indication that she was emerging from a nightmare was the cold, clammy feel of her skin and her heart racing a mile a minute.

She tried to get her bearings. It was dark, but not like the dream. She was on her side. Her face was buried against something hard — a shoulder. A man's shoulder. She moved her arm a little and felt that it was draped across his chest. She moved her leg a little and felt it was tangled among his.

She looked down and saw a woman's hand resting on her hip. She took another deep breath and felt something, a face she guessed, pressed against her back. Her shifting caused the person behind her to mumble something unintelligible, and press herself tighter against her back. She felt the rasp of wispy hair against her ass cheek and twin hard points pressing into her back. She moved her hand down and felt the long tube of flesh resting between the man's legs.

Bit by bit, she put the pieces back together. She was in bed. Curled around Gregg. Emily was behind her. Together the three of them were one naked tangle of flesh. The nightmare faded and reality set in.

Heather glanced up at Gregg's face, her eyes regaining their focus. It was hard to see in such limited light, but she soaked in every line of his handsome, yet innocent face. For a moment he seemed younger than his 26 years. Much younger ... a boy. The images from her dream flooded back into her memory.

The boy, his features indistinguishable from Gregg.

The dark man.

Gregg protecting her, but completely unaware of the real danger that was present. The dark man trying to trap her, and failing that, turning his rage against Gregg. The paper screen, as effective as hiding under a desk during a nuclear explosion.

Heather wrapped herself tighter around Gregg. She tried to cover every exposed inch of his flesh as if she could protect that little boy now. She held him close and grief overtook her. 'It was just a dream. It was just a dream... ' She cried for long minutes. She cried until sleep overtook her again and her dream was washed away in her tears.

As light filled the room from the window, Heather's eyes opened again. Her brain tried to remember her dreams, but it was like holding sand in her hands — the harder she tried to hold onto them, the faster they slipped away. All that was left were feelings.

She rolled on her back and after a second was surprised that there was no one behind her. She was sure Emily had fallen asleep against her back.

Gregg was still asleep, softly snoring. Like her, he was naked. 'Naked and beautiful' she thought. 'How is it I never noticed it before?' She rolled back onto her side and rested her head back on his shoulder. She drew lazy circles over his chest and around his nipples. Her finger trailed lower over his hard stomach muscles. Lower.

Stopping herself, she pulled her hand away. 'I'll let him sleep ... besides as much as I want that, what I want even more is a shower.'

Her brain flashed back to last night. All three of them were sated beyond belief. After catching their collective breaths, one by one they took turns using the bathroom before coming back to collapse on the bed. They all barely had energy to stand, but Heather wanted at least to wash Gregg's cum off her chest and neck. They all climbed into bed and promptly fell asleep, not a goodnight kiss among them.

Heather sighed happily at the memory. She looked toward the clock to check the time and saw a piece of paper folded and resting on the night stand.

Opening it, she read:

Dear Gregg & Heather,

I don't have the words to describe how amazing last night was. I was tempted to call in sick this morning, but people depend on me. Help yourselves to what ever food you can find. I put your clothes into the washer, but you'll have to dry them when you wake up.

I left a spare key for you on the kitchen table. Just drop it off at the hospital later today.

I hope I get to see you both soon ... real soon.

Hugs, kisses, and much much more,

Emily

'I didn't even hear an alarm go off! I wonder what time she left.' Heather read the note again, smiling at the fact that Emily dotted her eyes with little circles. As her eyes passed over the mention of food, her stomach rumbled.

Heather stepped into the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the shower. The hot water felt really good. She was glad Emily had left her soap and shampoo where she could find them. Heather loved taking showers. She loved the hot, tingly spray over her neck and shoulders. She loved letting her soapy hands rub over every inch of her body. She was tempted finish her shower like she often did, but didn't want to bring herself off with a finger when Gregg's giant cock was sleeping in the next room.

Forcing herself to shut the water, she stepped out, dried her body and wrapped her hair in a towel, making one of those terry-cloth beehives that only women know how to make.

She went back to the bedroom and saw that Gregg was still in bed, but he was awake ... and so was his friend.

"Good morning ... to both of you," she giggled. She walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. She leaned over and kissed Gregg on the lips chastely. Sitting up, she let his eyes roam freely over her naked body. His gaze was lighting a fire between her legs. Heather twisted and bent again, giving Gregg's friend a kiss also, right on the tip.

He reeked of sex, a scent that was overpowering in both its rancidity as well as its allure. In fact, the whole room reeked. Fighting off every urge to mount him without further ado, she instead kissed him gently the lips, pulling back before he could get his arms around her. Heather was the only one who really cleaned up at all last night, and that was just a wet washcloth to clean away Gregg's final shots.

"No, no, no. I just managed to scrape the residue from last night off me. Why don't you take a shower. I'll make you a breakfast fit for a king." With that she stood and walked to the door. She turned and saw Gregg lying there with his monster hard on and a little boy's pout on his face.

A momentary pang went through Heather's body, some distant memory, before she shrugged it off and left for the kitchen.

Gregg rubbed his face with his hands and then sat up. He caught a whiff of himself and agreed: a shower was more than necessary. The odor of sex and chlorine filling the room was almost overpowering. He jumped into the shower and washed away the night's activities. Since he had no razor, he was forced to keep his overnight stubble.

Gregg wrapped his towel around his waist, again noticing his new, trimmer self in the mirror. He was no expert on the male form, but he liked what he saw. He was about to head down stairs when he remembered that Heather wasn't wearing a towel when she left, except for the one on her head. 'Well, if she can do it, so can I!' and down he went. Gregg was proud of himself, especially since he never even walked around naked in his own apartment.

Heather looked at him above the rim of her coffee mug when he entered the kitchen and swallowed her mouthful of java audibly. He was absolutely beautiful. Chiseled, rugged, and his ... his ... wow! She stood, as if in a trance, and put her mug on the table, afraid she might drop it. She stood from the table and walked up to him wrapping herself around his naked body. He pulled the towel off of her head and she shivered as her wet hair caressed her back. They kissed long and passionately, his hands tangled in her thick, wet hair. They would have stayed that way forever if Gregg's stomach hadn't interrupted the moment.

Heather backed away, giggling. "Have a seat. I've prepared your feast, my king!" Heather punctuated her joke with a curtsy ... which would have been elegant, had she been wearing any clothes.

Gregg sat in the chair and eyed the feast. Coffee, toast, butter, and several open tupperwares of last night's cold leftovers. "For a king? Are you sure you don't mean for a jester?"

Heather smirked and sat herself crosswise in his lap. She put one arm around his neck to balance herself and shoved a piece of toast in his mouth. "Okay, so I'm not a chef from the Culinary Institute! My talents lie-" she grabbed his cock, "-elsewhere."

Gregg chewed his toast, eyeing her thoughtfully. His face was expressionless, except for slow chewing of his toast. Heather was starting to worry he had no sense of humor when suddenly she jumped in the air, having been goosed on her behind.

She got off his lap and grabbed his head in both hands. Gregg was suddenly at a loss for breath when his face was pressed firmly between her breasts and shaken vigorously. "Let's just see where THAT gets you!" she laughed, releasing his head. Gregg's eyes came back into focus, and were treated to the vision that was Heather's ass as she walked across the kitchen away from him. Gregg pouted again before grabbing another slice of toast. Heather laughed and grabbed the coffee pot, pouring him a mug. She set it down in front of him, but she kept out of reach of his hands, unsure if he had plans for a second attack.

Returning the coffee pot to the counter, she leaned against the counter and watched him eat as intently as he watched her. There was no hiding his excitement. 'It's probably visible from space!' she thought mirthfully, hiding her smile with her coffee.

She was excited too. Excited and scared. Scared by what she was feeling. Scared by what she wanted to ask. She had time to think in the shower — perhaps the first truly clear thoughts she'd had in days.

Gregg must have picked up her mood, her face no longer hidden by her coffee as she stood lost in thought. "What are you thinking?"

Heather's face paled. She wasn't sure she was ready to ask him. It was just a passing concern, an errant thought, but it was too late. "I'm thinking about you ... and Emily ... and me." She didn't know how to say what she wanted to say, not yet having time to process what she was feeling. She always prided herself on her emotional detachment, but this was different.

Gregg stood up and walked to her. His visible excitement disappeared from his face as well as from other areas. Heather put her mug on the counter and hugged herself with her arms, small armor indeed which would hardly protect her. Her arms crushed her breasts together, lifting them and thrusting them out as a result. It would have made Gregg even more excited if he wasn't so worried.

'She's probably upset about last night. We all drank too much. She regrets it. I hurt her. How could I have been so stupid?!'

Heather pulled him in for a hug, resting her head against his chest. 'It'll be easier if I don't have to look him in the eyes... '

Heather took a big gulp of air, trying to ignore his arousing scent and the pressure of his cock pressing against her skin. "Emily ... Emily was your first, wasn't she?"

Gregg was puzzled. It wasn't the question he'd been expecting. Maybe his inexperience was showing? Maybe last night was terrible? A thousand thoughts ran through his head, but it all came out as, "Uh huh." Why did her skin have to feel so soft? Why did her hair have to smell so nice?

Heather didn't relax her grip. If anything, she held him tighter. "I'm jealous of her."

Gregg really wasn't prepared for that. He pulled back, which took some effort. "How can you say that?" he said to her softly. "Yeah, sure, she's pretty and all, but ... but ... you're beautiful! What happened between Emily and I..." He wanted to tell her that when he dreamed of that night, it was her he thought about. He wanted to tell her that, but thought better of it. "Heather, you-"

He was silenced by her fingers placed over his mouth. "No ... no it's not that. When I realized that she had taken your virginity, it made me ... I don't know ... sad, I guess. I know this sounds silly, but that night you woke up in the hospital, I knew it was supposed to be me who took it."

Gregg was dumbstruck. Heather's fingers on his lips were pointless because he had nothing to say. Nothing in his twenty-six years could have prepared him for this conversation.

"But I had a thought..." She finally looked into his eyes with a mixture of hope and fear. Whatever she was about to say was clearly taking every last bit of courage. "Last night you awoke something ... something inside me. You did something nobody's ever done before. It was something I thought I'd hate. Something I was taught to hate, but when you did it, it felt better than I could ever have imagined..."

Gregg was lost. He knew she wasn't a virgin. She was beautiful and exotic, and he imagined there was nothing he could have done that she'd never done before. In fact, she was the one showing HIM the ropes. He was so stunned by this conversation that it didn't even occur to him to try his mental trick and read her thoughts.

"There's a way for us to take each other's virginity. It's not the same as what you gave Emily, but it's a way for me to have something first from you." Gregg stared at her blankly, unable to fathom what she was talking about. "I ... I ... I want you to sodomize me."

He stepped back, holding her at arm's length. He looked at her and saw the fear in her form. She looked like she was trying to curl into a ball standing up. He lifted her face with his had under her chin. Tears were starting to well up. He didn't understand her behavior. He desperately wanted to know what she was thinking, and he finally remembered his trick. Listening carefully, her inner voice became audible:

'Why isn't he saying anything? Oh my God, he thinks I'm some kind of pervert. I knew I shouldn't have said anything. Damn it Heather, you finally fall for a great guy and you have to ask him for something like that. What the hell's the matter with you?'

Gregg couldn't believe what he was hearing. In the months he'd known her, fear or self-loathing were never traits he'd ascribe to her. She fell for him? A tear rolled down her cheek. Her thoughts were becoming more frantic with each passing second. He had to say something quickly, before she spiraled out of control.

"Okay."

She looked up at him, mostly in surprise. She wasn't sure she heard right. "Okay?"

"Yes, okay. But..." Gregg saw her face drop. "No, it's not what you think. I ... I don't ... God, how to I say this?"

Heather smiled, wiping a tear off her cheeks. "Just tell me ... After all, I just asked you to stick your dick up my ass."

Gregg was knocked silent again. He kept forgetting that sometimes the most blunt things came out of that beautiful face. "That's just it..." He wanted to tell her it would work better if he still had his small penis, but that would just start a conversation he wasn't ready to have. "It's ... It's a matter of size..." he finally managed to get out.

Relief flooded Heather's face. Relief and fear — a new fear, like she was finally realizing the physics of what she had asked. She embraced him in a tight hug. "We'll go slow. You'll be gentle. I know it. Come on." She grabbed his hand and walked him upstairs.

Grabbing the bottle of baby oil from the bathroom she found after her shower, she stood before Gregg in front of the bed. Any last trace of her tears was gone. She looked determined. Determined and hopeful. "Now, let's see if we can get Mr. Happy excited about the prospect..."

Kneeling in front of him, she lifted his long, limp cock to her mouth. She held onto his hips while she sucked in his head, massaging the underside with her tongue. Gregg sighed in pleasure, and held her head in his hands. His cock grew is little pulses, gradually filling more and more of her mouth.

It didn't take long for him to fully rise to the occasion. She would have been content to stay where she was and suck him until he unleashed a belly full of cum, but she had more immediate desires. When she was confident that he was as hard as he'd ever be, she pulled him out of her mouth.

Clearly Gregg was as disappointed as she was that the blow job had come to an end. Looking down, Gregg didn't need to be a mind reader to see that she was nervous about the next step.

"Heather, if you're having second thoughts..."

"No!" she said a bit louder than she had intended. She tried again. "No. I want to do this ... Please ... I need to."

That seemed to settle her mind. She flipped the cap on the oil and squirted some in her palm. She put the bottle on the floor and rubbed her hands together. Next she started massaging the oil onto his incredible length. Even when his length shined from tip to base, she squirted more oil onto her hand and applied a second coat. The slippery hand job felt incredibly good, and Gregg was momentarily disappointed when it stopped.

Heather stood and handed Gregg the bottle of oil, which kept trying to slide from her slippery grasp. Pressing her hands to her stomach, she appeared to be mentally measuring the depth to which Gregg's cock would soon bore. Taking a shuddering breath, she walked into the bathroom and returned with a bath towel on which first wiped her hands before spreading it out on the bed. Taking another deep breath, she crawled onto the middle of the bed, her ass hovering over the towel. Gregg watched as she grabbed a pillow and lowered her head to it, turning her head to the side so she could watch him watch her. When he climbed onto the bed behind her, she closed her eyes and turned her face into the pillow, determining that she really couldn't watch.

Gregg's hands rubbed across her tight asscheeks. He couldn't believe how beautiful she was. Her twin, perfect globes stood at her apex. Her cuntslit peeked out from between her thighs, the small clit nubbin peeking out from the top (or in this position, the bottom) of her slit. Her spine was arched, pressing her breasts into the comforter, but he could still see them flaring out to the side. He moved in closer and she flinched when his cock brushed against her clit between her legs.

Gregg flipped open the cap on the oil and squirted a few drops directly onto her tightly clenched sphincter. Next he let a few drops fall onto his index finger before pressing the slippery digit against her tightly sealed entrance. He was very concerned about her enjoyment. It was obvious that this act was very important to her. Using his mental trick, he listened in. He could hear her voice in his head, 'Oh God, oh God, this is never going to work. It's going to hurt. Shit! He can't even get his finger in. Oh God, he's going to hate me.'

Gregg thought to himself that she needed to relax. She was getting herself upset. He was surprised when he heard an echo of his thoughts ... but in her voice, 'Relax Heather. Relax, you're getting yourself worked up.' Gregg was astounded. He concentrated harder. 'You're enjoying this, you just need to loosen up and let me in.' Her voice followed in his head, 'I'm going to enjoy this. Just relax, open up, let him in.

As if on cue, Gregg's finger slid home, burying itself fully inside her. She gasped in pleasure. He heard it both from her voice, muffled by the pillow, and clearly in her thoughts. Gregg was blown away. He was actually putting thoughts into her head. He was helping her enjoy this.

Then something truly amazing happened. What seemed like a hollow version of himself pulled away from his body, like a dust cloth being pulled from furniture in a strong breeze. It pulled away from his body, a translucent version of himself. Invisible fingers seemed to pluck this Gregg-sheath at his shoulder, where the lightning had left its oddly shaped scar. It floated toward Heather's body and when it touched her skin, it pulled tight like a chord between them.

The imagery of his hollow-self disappeared, and it was as if a light was suddenly turned on. Gregg saw the woman beneath him even more clearly. He saw the mixture of pleasure and pain centered around her ass. He saw the pleasure coming from her vagina as she rubbed against his member. It was difficult to comprehend what he was seeing. Trying to understand it was like seeing something out of the corner of his eye, but every time he tried to focus on it, it would disappear. For once, rather than trying to understand, he simply let it be.

Colors danced before his eyes. Instinctively, he knew he could say the pain Heather felt was almost red, and the pleasure was almost green. It was a painfully simple imagery, and didn't even begin to explain it, but it was the best his brain could do in the given circumstances. He could feel every muscle in her body, every sensation from every nerve ending.

He pulled his finger out to the first knuckle and watched as waves of pleasure spread through her. He focused in on those pleasure waves and when he pushed his finger back in, he imagined those waves increasing in size. It was like making waves in a bath tub, each wave he pushed built into the next and as he began a slow fucking motion with his finger, the waves increased in size, doubling, tripling in height when suddenly her body shook in an orgasm. He watched a white and yellow explosion burst through her body.

Heather screamed into the pillow, gasping for air, her whole body convulsing in pleasure. Gregg had only barely begun pleasuring her anus when suddenly her pleasure built and built until she overflowed. Like being struck by a truck, her orgasm tore through her, unexpected and immense. If Gregg hadn't grabbed her waist, she was sure she would have fallen over. 'I didn't even feel the build up. I had no idea it could be so pleasurable! One moment I'm fighting back pain, and ... and the next, I'm cumming like I've never cum before!' Catching her breath, she turned and looked at Gregg over her shoulder. He was pumping his finger in and out of her slowly, staring at her ass like he was studying one of his artifacts.

"Gregg?" she gasped. He seemed not to hear.

"Gregg!" she repeated. He looked up and stared at her like he was seeing at her for the first time. "I ... unngh! ... I think I'm ready for another ... Oh shit! ... for another finger."

He blinked and looked down at his hand and then back at her. "Oh ... yeah ... sure." She thought he must have been as surprised by her reaction as she was. He certainly seemed ... well, distracted seemed an appropriate word.

Gregg pulled his finger out and Heather flinched. He grabbed the oil bottle and let some more oil drip into her slightly more relaxed anus. He then let a few drops coat both his index and middle fingers, before re-closing the cap and putting the bottle on the bed beside his knee. Gregg reestablished his mental connection to Heather. Trying to do it consciously required some effort, more than he would have imagined given how naturally it happened that first time. Repeating the images of his hollow-self becoming a chord between them, the link reconnected and once in place, required no more effort to maintain.

Gregg watched both with his eyes and with his mind as he pressed both fingers to her opening. He pressed the tip of his middle finger against the index finger's nail to make the tip of his finger-spear as narrow as possible. Gregg sent soothing thoughts to Heather and when her muscles to relaxed, he found that his fingers entered easily.

Not wanting to shove her over the top like before, he merely watched the waves of pleasure spread from her ass. Pleasure seemed to emanate like waves. Pain was more like sharp ice crystals. Pressure, was like an icy sludge that could be soft and pleasurable or could freeze into sharp jagged ice. Gregg wasn't sure why he thought of the images like various forms of water, but it seemed to work and allowed him some control.

Like a circus performer keeping multiple plates spinning, he did his best to dampen down the pain, and slightly boost the pleasure. Pleasure was the easiest to control. As his earlier experience showed, it built on itself rather quickly and only needed some nudging. Pain on the other hand was far more difficult. Like pleasure, it built on itself quickly. He knew that if he wanted to cause pain, it'd be as easy as causing pleasure. But Gregg didn't want that. The moans coming from Heather were a redundant reminder that pain was the last thing he wanted her feeling.

He tried completely blocking the pain, but it took too much concentration. He might as well have been trying to shovel snow with a teaspoon. Accepting his limitations, Gregg focused instead on the tallest, most jagged, most searingly red spikes of pain. To his great surprise, and relief, he found that as Heather got used to both his fingers sliding in and out of her tight hole, waves of pleasure began washing away some of the pain.