A Fistful of Sand Book 1Chapter 8 Promises to Keep
- 1 year ago
- 14
- 0
A Fistful Of Sand Book 1Chapter 7: An Apple A Day free porn video
Takashi Nomura sat on the edge of the little wooden bridge spanning the pond that half encircled his house in the outskirts of Nagamachi. He liked sitting here, watching the gold, yellow, and white fish swarm under his feet as he tossed handfuls of rice into the water. Swim, eat, mate ... their lives were so simple. It was a simplicity which he yearned for. Maybe he was finally close to achieving it.
It had been many years since he had sworn fealty to Lord Saihitsu-an to avenge the murder of his family. Saihitsu-an was more than willing use his skills. The slaughter he wreaked in the name of vengeance darkened his soul. Takashi was an honorable warrior working for a less-than honorable lord. But in the end, he achieved his goal. The murderous dogs who killed his wife, sons, and daughter were all dead now. Yet, that hadn't put his soul at ease.
That was years ago. In an effort to find answers to impossible questions, Takashi undertook a spiritual quest. His wanderings took him near and far. He meditated, prayed, and fought. More than once he was brought to the brink of death by those who wanted little more than more wealth, more power, or just whatever valuables they thought they could get off him. For most, that was their last mistake.
Then, one morning, as he meditated at a pond, not much different from where he sat today, an answer came — not the answer he had been seeking, but an answer nonetheless. He had been meditating for days, no food, no water. It was his last chance. Either he'd find purpose here, or he would die. Starvation and dehydration were playing havoc with his mind. His brain was a swirling mass of images and sensations. He talked to dead ancestors, he talked with his son, the gash of the sword still visible beneath his small kimono.
With a clarity that came from nowhere, he knew what he must do. To any outside observer, he knew his tasks would seem frantic, almost desperate. But there was no one around. He knew his body was on the verge of collapse, but he also knew he had to perform this one last ritual. It was like those he had performed numerous times, yet slightly different. It reminded him of the time he listened to his son tell his mother about one of their fishing trips. All the important parts were there, but some of the order was wrong, and some of the facts embellished.
In his fevered state, he didn't dwell on that. Either he had been given an answer or his fever-dream was playing one last trick on him before he died. One way or another, the answer was almost in his grasp. He said the words, did the motions, even used his knife to slice his palm. The world went white with pain when lightning struck him from out of a clear blue sky.
That was two years ago, almost to the day. That moment had opened his eyes to a whole new world. He never thought he would love again, but he did. A beautiful woman had found his still smoking body next to the pond and she had dragged him to her home. She didn't know where she got the strength to pull his mass, but she was determined that he would live. When he finally opened his eyes and saw her, he fell hopelessly in love with her.
New questions tortured his soul these days. Why did the gods grant him these abilities that had manifest themselves days after finding Yakuri? How did he go from a man searching for inner meaning to a man who explored the limitless pleasures of the flesh?
Takashi spent many days meditating on these and other questions. The most important question he grappled with was whether his gift was a test or a reward. Was he supposed to abstain from the pleasures he could get so easily? Or was he supposed to not question the gods and celebrate their generosity with these carnal delights.
His reverie was broken by his friend Somo's hand on his shoulder. "Master, I am sorry for bothering you while you meditate. You must come home. It is most urgent."
Takashi knew his loyal friend would not interrupt him unless he truly was needed. He trusted Somo with his life. His friend was honest and true, and Takashi rewarded him with his pick from his servants. Somo was as close to a son as he had these days.
They ran back up to the house, Somo in the lead. No amount of inner peace could have prepared Takashi for the scene before him. Twenty women, all naked were lying prostrate on the ground, noses pressed against the floor mats. Their smooth, firm skin almost shining in sunlight coming through the doors. This was nothing new. His servants, as he like to call them, worshiped at his feet. All were eager to please him, hoping they'd be picked for his bed that night. But something wasn't right. They had assumed their positions upon his entrance, but he saw that many of them were crying, shaking in fear.
"Come, Master. Your bedroom."
The rice paper walls, the teak framing, and the silk prints should have brought him calm. But they were torn and scarred, splashed with blood. On the bed, a crumpled form was covered in silk sheets. Takashi approached the bed and pulled back the silk, seeing, to his horror, the most beautiful face he'd ever seen. Her eyes were still open, but they held no life. Green eyes that had shone with a light of their own were now cold, unseeing.
Takashi knelt by her side, his grief so overpowering that tears could not come. "Somo, what happened?"
His friend and protégée knelt by his side. "This is how I found them. I came in to see if Yakuri was feeling alright since she did not come out for breakfast. That's when I saw her lying there, in a pool of blood. Nahtsuki-" he indicated the naked, kneeling woman in the corner. She covered in blood, a vacant look in her eyes and a bloody knife in her hand. "-Nahtsuki has been like that since I found her. She won't talk to me, and she won't let go of that knife."
Takashi rushed to face girl. "Nahtsuki, what happened? Answer me!" But she remained still, unhearing. Linking to her mind, he searched for answers. Did she walk in on bandits? Was she tortured? Who did this to his beloved?
The answer horrified him. He felt her rage at being second to Yakuri. They had been friends all their lives. But when Takashi named Yakuri his most beloved, above all servants, her heart broke. She was happy to share her master with any number of women, but she knew she loved him more than any woman. It was her rightful place to be his chosen, not hers. She had confronted Yakuri about it that very morning, telling her she wasn't worthy. When Yakuri laughed at her, all her rage poured out. She pulled the knife she didn't even realize she carried out from her kimono sash and stabbed her childhood friend. Stab. Stab. Again and again, even long after her friend was dead. When the red haze of rage finally passed, she saw what she had done. In her horror, she laid her hands on her now gone friend, willing her to breathe, but to no avail. Stepping backwards from the body, she knelt, waiting for the storm of her master, praying he ended her life with more mercy than she had shown his beloved.
Takashi pulled his mind back. He was numb. Twice now his life had been destroyed. Once by those he hated, once by those he loved.
With a voice devoid of emotion, he spoke. "Somo, bring me my paper and ink. As well as my wakizashi and my katana." Tears fell from Somo's eyes hearing this, knowing what it meant, but he would not disobey his master's request. He would have felt honor at being named kaishakunin, or "second" in this ritual if he wasn't also overcome by grief.
Somo returned wordlessly with a tray with Takashi's best writing implements, having taken control over his emotions so as not to shame his master. With bold strokes, Takashi painted his haiku, the perfection of the letters only marred by the tears that had finally begun to fall from his eyes. They were not tears of sadness at the loss of his beloved. They were tears of shame, at his failure to protect her. He never thought she'd need protection from those she loved, and who loved her.
With the poem written, he peeled his kimono off his shoulders. Somo placed Takashi's katana on the floor mat between his master and the body of his master's wife before taking his ceremonial place behind him.
Takashi chose Nahtsuki as his focus, staring into her unseeing eyes. His wakizashi, or short sword plunged into his side, slicing across his abdomen in a left-to-right motion. Nahtsuki became aware of what was happening and screamed out her horror. She had thought her master would kill her in a rage, but she never expected this. Other servants held her in place, not allowing her to ruin their master's last honorable act. Takashi's hands moved back to the center of his abdomen and began to slice upward. The sound of a sword being unsheathed was heard behind him as Somo prepared for the final blow.
Takashi's final thought before everything went black was, "I was not worthy."
Gregg woke from his dream, covered in sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands instinctively went to his stomach and the back of his neck, feeling for the wounds he was sure would be there. He was a bit surprised and very relieved that his hands found no intestines pouring out from his midsection. As he got his bearings he remembered that he was in his camper, Heather asleep by his side.
Feeling the memories of the dream slipping away, he jumped out of bed and ran into the camper's main room. Grabbing his notebook which was still on the table, he wrote down everything he could remember — names, people's faces, events. By the time he had finished writing, he had about three pages of notes in a hurried hand. Rereading what he had just written, he was surprised to see things he didn't even remember writing, things that had already escaped from his memory. He put the pad of paper down, his hand aching from gripping the pencil so tightly.
It seemed so real. That man ... he checked his notes ... Takashi — his pain, his feelings, they were too real. Then it hit him: he had been inside this Takashi's head, he had seen everything he had seen, felt everything he had felt, remembered everything he had remembered. There were things in that dream he couldn't have known. Like the names of the swords. He was sure they were correct, but he'd check. Gregg's mind began processing this, unable to make heads or tails of what it meant. Could it all just have been a dream? Was he just not thinking clearly? He closed his notebook while he tried to process his jumble of thoughts.
He was brought back to the present by the moaning sounds coming from the bed. Gregg blinked, wondering how long he had been sitting there. Slipping back under the covers, he saw that Heather was sweating, her face contorted in fear, her head thrashing back and forth, unintelligible words coming from her mouth.
Gregg shook her shoulders. "Heather. Heather! Wake up, you're having a nightmare."
Heather's eyes burst open, green emeralds shining in the darkness. Recognizing Gregg, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his neck, sobbing uncontrollably. She held him so tight, he began to worry about his ability to breathe.
Once she got a hold of herself, he pulled her back and looked into her deep green eyes. "Heather what is it? What's the matter? What did you dream?"
Heather lowered her gaze. "I ... I ... I can't talk about it. It's over now, anyway. Just a nightmare." He could tell she was lying. Instinctively he tried to listen to her thoughts, trying to see what had scared her so, but his head rocked back by a bolt of pain, like someone punching him between the eyes. Either Heather was shielding her dream, or something else was. Either way, he wasn't going to learn tonight. Luckily Heather didn't see his reaction, having buried her face back into his shoulder.
"What are you doing up?" she asked, still holding him close.
Gregg fought down the pain, getting control over his voice. "You're not the only one with bad dreams tonight, it seems." He didn't want to talk about his dreams either, and was glad she didn't ask.
Heather turned his face toward hers. She wiped away her tears and smiled. "Well, I have some ideas on how we can pass the time, as long as we're both awake..." Her eyes turned from amusement to a hunger that needed no further explanation.
Gregg folded her in his arms, laying her back on the bed beneath him. With her guidance his rapidly hardening cock slipped easily inside her. They made passionate love again, eventually falling into a blessedly dreamless sleep.
When morning arrived, so did Gregg's wholly unromantic realization that there was still a lot of work to do getting the site ready for their departure. While he hadn't expected his students to stay the entire time, he was disappointed that half of them had left that very night. And now, another of his students was leaving in just two more days. She had told him next week, and technically that was correct, she was leaving on Sunday. When she told him that at the café, she couldn't bring herself to admit she was leaving so soon, and he wasn't about to bring up a semantic argument.
While his heart was heavy with the fact that she'd be leaving, his immediate concern was getting the work done. He had woken up before she did and had slipped out from her arms to get dressed as noiselessly as possible, wanting to let her sleep. He knew they'd see each other in the States when he returned, but he couldn't shake the heaviness in his heart at being away from her for even that long.
Gregg walked over to the student campers, figuring he'd set up shop there, especially since there was one, soon to be two, unoccupied units. He started the tedious task of packing pottery in boxes stuffed with straw, carefully labeling every box, every item. He looked up when Chad's camper opened — but it wasn't Chad who stepped out. Jenny, the girl from the café stepped out, and gave a small shriek of surprise seeing Gregg standing there. She was cute, he had to admit. Pixyish face framed by curly blonde hair, a slight build covered by one of Chad's shirts that was just long enough to be decent.
"Good morning," he said with a grin. He struggled between hiding his amusement at catching her and admiring her bare legs. Jenny blushed, but not nearly so much as Chad who exited the camper right behind her. She caught Gregg's roving eye and a small shiver of pleasure went through her. After all, just two days ago she was imagining the delicious things he could do to her in Omar's bathroom.
Gregg watched in amusement as Chad tried stammering out an explanation. Jenny was in the process of turning around to reenter the camper and put on some pants when a woman's voice saved them.
"Gregg, why didn't you wake m..." Heather stopped in her tracks coming into the camper area, realizing that Chad was there too. She hadn't seen Chad or Jenny because as she was walking over toward the student campers, she was looking down at her shirt, buttoning it up. After a long moment's awkwardness, all four of them broke down in laughter. Heather was the first to speak, getting her breath. "Listen. How about we just say that whatever happens in Tunisia, stays in Tunisia? Huh?"
Everyone agreed, although Jenny wasn't quite sure what was going on. She jumped back into Chad's trailer and gathered up her things, kissed Chad goodbye and headed home. Gregg was going to make a comment about missing school, but then he remembered that today was Saturday.
For the most part, that was the most excitement for the day. The three of them worked diligently preparing boxes and files for shipping. The hours went by too fast for Gregg. He was torn between trying to close up shop and wanting to be with Heather. Fortunately, or unfortunately, his sense of responsibility won out, and they stayed on task.
That evening after the sun set and there was no more light to work outside by, they headed over to Omar's. Opening his email account, Gregg ignored all the letters except from one person. Emily must have really been bored at work again because she continued her highly detailed and highly erotic emails to him. Judging by the flush on Heather's cheeks, he guessed he wasn't the only recipient. Emily insisted that she be allowed to host a little farewell party for Heather. Apparently, Heather had emailed the girl yesterday after she booked her tickets. Gregg's ears burned at most of what Emily had in mind, but he was intrigued. The girl had a very vivid imagination and that gave him some ideas.
Luckily, Chad said that had plans with Jenny that night, so it appeared it would just be the three of them. Gregg sent this to Emily and was surprised that only two minutes later a response came back requesting that Heather and Gregg come over for an early dinner and "entertainment" tomorrow. She had CC'd Heather the email but had left it vague just what, exactly, that would entail. Gregg blushed when she asked him, but wouldn't tell, not wanting to ruin the surprise. The mere thought of it had his blood pumping, and Heather seemed content to leave it at that.
Jenny met them at the café and when the three headed back to the campers, she followed along, arm-in-arm with Chad. There were no snide comments or jokes when Chad and Jenny went into one camper and Gregg and Heather went into another.
The next day was more of the same. At least they knew they were working a shorter day. To Gregg's surprise, Jenny stayed and helped as she could. An extra pair of hands was definitely appreciated. Around noon, another surprise: Emily showed up. She had the next two days off, so she figured she'd hang around with her new friends. She didn't expect the frantic pace of work at the site, and quickly offered her help along with Jenny's. Even if they were only planning to work another few hours, every little bit helped.
Gregg was happy to see Emily and Jenny talking like old friends while they worked. He imagined that Jenny was as starved as she was for contact from fellow U.S. citizens. What worried Gregg was the frequency with which worked stopped between the two while Emily leaned down to whisper in the slightly shorter girl's ear. Jenny would then stare at him with surprise, or maybe awe. When she'd see him looking at her, she'd avert her eyes, blushing. Gregg would have listened in to find out what they were talking about, but he respected their privacy ... well, not really. He tried, but they were too far away, and failing that, he "decided" to respect their privacy.
When three o'clock rolled around, Gregg called it quits. He didn't want Heather's last memories of this place to be of work. It would all get done, somehow, with or without her. Gregg and Heather were about to head back to their respective campers for showers when Emily suggested they come to her place instead. Her shower was bigger anyway.
Heather packed up the rest of her belongings in her trunk and with Gregg and Chad's help, carried it over to the road where they hailed two taxis. Heather gave Chad a big hug goodbye and whispered in his ear. Gregg couldn't hear what she told him, but she gave him a meaningful look before hugging him again and kissing him on the cheek. If anything, Chad looked nervous.
Heather and her trunk were packed in one cab, the trunk across the back seat and Heather upfront. The cab driver didn't seem to mind having this gorgeous woman sitting beside him. Gregg and Emily grabbed the next cab and they caravanned back to Emily's. While driving there, they discussed their plan for the evening. Actually, Emily TOLD Gregg what was going to happen. He just nodded, and grinned, his pants revealing his approval, something that wasn't lost on Heather as they stood outside the gates to Emily's house.
She looked down at his tenting jeans and asked, "So, what were you two doing on the ride over?"
Gregg blushed and answered somewhat evasively, "Oh, you know ... childhood memories and such..."
Heather decided not to push the questioning. Not much could have happened in such a short ride, and the wicked gleam in Emily's eye held promises of fun for later. Emily keyed the gate open and they carried Heather's trunk and their two backpacks up the drive to the house.
Dinner was a light affair, but still delicious. Emily had demonstrated herself to be a natural in the kitchen. "Well, my dad is often away and there aren't too many frozen food options here. So, I had to teach myself." The girls did the dishes, not letting Gregg near the kitchen, explaining that they wanted a little girl time. Emily turned on the stereo and had Gregg relax in the infamous living room chair overlooking the patio. Gregg watched the girls washing and drying and talking, but he couldn't hear what they were saying due to the ambient music. At one point Emily looked worried about whatever Heather was saying and kept glancing at Gregg, but whatever it was, Emily finally agreed. Heather pulled her into a hug and mouthed, "Thank you."
Emily and Heather joined Gregg in the living room with glasses of white wine. It wasn't champagne, but it'd do for a toast. The air was crackling with sexual tension. There was no hiding the hardon that Gregg had in his jeans, and Emily seemed even more bouncy than normal. Heather's imagination ran wild, wondering what the two of them had planned. For the next half-hour or so, they chatted about inconsequential things, what was left to do at the site, what the college was like, etc. Emily finally stood up and said that she had to "wrap Heather's going away present" with a knowing and obvious wink to Gregg. She ran up the stairs and they heard the bathroom door shut. Gregg waited a few minutes before asking Heather to follow him upstairs, since her gift was in Emily's bedroom. Heather followed, a confused look on her face, not quite understanding what they had planned. Why not the big bedroom?
Gregg had Heather sit on Emily's bed facing the door. It wasn't a big room, and it was sparsely furnished. In the middle of the hardwood floor, there was a twin sized bed. In the corner next to the open door was a chair that didn't fit with the room décor. There was a closet and a dresser and a night stand on the door-side of the bed. Heather was surprised not to see any stuffed animals. She sometimes forgot that Emily was older than she looked ... but not by much.
Gregg took a seat in the chair facing Heather on the bed. She sat unsurely with her legs together and her hands in her lap. The window was open and the evening air was beginning to cool the room down. Gregg wasn't saying anything, and clearly she was meant to wait until Emily arrived.
Gregg had been thinking about this night for two days now and he was ready to try out his idea to make it even better for Heather. Of course, Emily wouldn't know what he was doing, but he was sure it would work anyway.
Alma
- 29.10.2022
- 17
- 0
A Fistful of Sand Book 1Chapter 21 Dreams and Nightmares
- 3 years ago
- 30
- 0
A Fistful of Sand Book 1Chapter 10 Of Mice of Man
- 3 years ago
- 22
- 0
