Flower
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Flower Ch. 07 free porn video
I woke up, habitually silencing the scream that was building inside of me. After one night of calm, relaxing sleep, my night terrors had finally found their way back, stronger than ever, it seemed. The effect of this particular dream had me lying tense but shivering in bed, the long, old nightgown that Gabriella had given me, with a laugh, twisted around me, as if I’d been turning and tossing for quite some time.
I wondered if the fact that I was now free, or at least a few steps on the way to freedom, was why a dream about being hunted and caught felt more frightening than ever. It was almost as if hope, friendship and love created new paths and chambers inside of me, that fear and panic could more easily travel and fill. Actually being able to see a way out, that famous light in the tunnel, was filling me both with hope and dread. And in the night with no one around to help calm my fears, the sheer terror of thinking that perhaps I wouldn’t be able to get away after all, had my muscles tensing almost to the point of cramping, kept my breaths shallow and made tears run down my face.
I got out of bed and walked up to the window, my thoughts a whirling mess. I took deep, calm breaths and looked out the window, seeing the full moon play hide and seek with a few tiny, whisper thin clouds. The lake was calm, with a few small waves glittering magically in the moonlight, and I felt drawn to it. Remembering the calming effect of the short walk down there the day before I quickly decided to see if it could help me once more. I pulled the flowery quilt from the top of the bed and wrapped it around my shoulders, quietly opened the door to my room, borrowed a pair of old boots and stepped out into the night.
The night air was surprisingly warm and I felt quite comfortable wrapped up in Gabriella’s old quilt. I walked down to the lake, found a smooth, flat, large stone that was tilting slightly towards the water, and sat down. My feet almost touched the surface of the lake as I stretched my legs out towards it on sitting down, but my need for comfort had me curling up, my legs pressed close to my body, arms wrapped around them, my head resting on my knees.
My thoughts were still twisting and turning. Perhaps it wasn’t possible to ever be entirely free, to feel completely safe? Perhaps I would still be stuck in this sticky web for the rest of my life, no matter if the spider was taken care of or not. What if I would always be this scared, what if I could never trust again? What kind of a miserable existence would that be?
I thought about the way that I had found hope, friendship and human kindness, the way I had started thinking about a brighter future with a place, and a kitchen, of my own. But the darkness of my previous thoughts kept creeping into those brighter ones, all ending in thoughts of a bleak future where I was still waking up every single night, screaming and shaking.
I sat there, thinking and rethinking, jumping between bright ideas and dark notions, going back and forth, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I removed my boots and scooted down towards the water, pushing my feet into it, then leaning forward just enough to be able to push my hands into the soothing liquid as well.
I let my toes wiggle and my fingers dance in the water, keeping my mind focused on the sensory information sent up through my legs and arms, making a concentrated effort at calming myself, breathing slowly and deeply. But the calm wouldn’t come, and peace would just linger for short moments before lifting off and flying away.
I lifted my hands out of the water and looked at the pale, clean, blank surface of them. I so wished there was a way to become clean like that, on the inside, as well as on the outside. A way to be free from all the memories, all of the nightmares, all of the worries and anxieties.
Almost choking from the sadness that kept filling those deep holes inside of me, I stood up and started walking out into the water. My slow steps and the water caressing my feet and then legs calmed me, pushing back the darkness once more, and I kept walking. When the water reached my thighs I stopped and stood, letting my hands and arms dance a silent dance in the water, creating my own waves that the moon could play and flirt with.
The sad cry from a lonely bird some distance away stilled my hands, but made me start up my slow walk once more. In the company of the moon and the lake, I didn’t feel quite as lonely as before, and the sweet caress of the water made me calm, kept my mind blank, chased my fears away. I kept taking one step after another, growing calmer and more certain as the water reached higher and higher up my body, almost sensing a calming effect on my heart as the water reached my breasts, making my nipples tighten in cold delight. Another step, then another until I was finally completely covered by water. All impressions, senses and thoughts finally calmed by the stillness of the lake. True freedom at last.
One last thought lingered, about the true circle of life perhaps being more closely related to water than to earth, ash and dust. A sad smile covered my face before I closed my eyes and let myself sleep, some final pictures of my life spinning through my mind, from water, to in sickness and health and then back to water again.
* * * * *
A soft sound woke me from my light slumber and I stretched and rubbed my eyes, not quite as instantly alert as my self-imposed guard duty really required. Sleeping in the car really wasn’t all that great. And waking up all of the time from the sounds of nature and wildlife just going about their business didn’t really help. With a large yawn I studied my surroundings, quickly scanning the area between the lake, the road and the house, before turning my eyes to the nearby building, seeing a pale shape closing the front door slowly. I almost didn’t need the light of the full moon to be able to recognize the person in front of me. She looked adorably rumpled, her hair tousled and her body covered by a wrinkled old nightgown, an old quilt covering her shoulders, boots about three sizes too big covering her feet. At least she was wearing slightly more clothes than the previous morning’s too short t-shirt, thank god for small mercies.
She walked slowly down towards the lake and I watched her, trying to gauge her mood, wondering if I should make myself known to her, not knowing if my presence would be a comfort or an annoyance, or perhaps most worrying of them all, if it would frighten her.
She sat down on a flat stone by the water and pulled herself into a small Rose-shaped ball. I kept looking at her, aware that not even an earthquake or a laughing relative would have been enough to make me stop doing just that.
I saw a small, sad-looking shape sitting by the water, her hair long and blond, seeming almost white in the pale moonlight, her skin and clothes just as white, as if she was made out of some rare, pure fairytale substance. I was filled, almost to the point of choking, with feelings of awe and worship – somehow natural in the presence of that ethereal, angel-like fairy creature – but also with feelings of sadness and helplessness, because I had no way of removing her pain or erasing her memories. I didn’t even know how to approach her, how to reach out to someone who’d been hurt that deeply, heart, body, mind and soul.
Not liking those feelings of helplessness, that reminded me of those early years I would rather forget, I decided that trying, not matter how unsuccessfully, was better than standing – or sitting – idly by. I carefully, silently eased the car door open and stepped out into the night. I stretched my stiff muscles and stifled a groan at the pain in my neck and shoulders. I wouldn’t be able to sleep in the car even one more night, so it was time to convince Gabriella to pack up and move back into the city.
I turned my eyes back to the pale, almost ghost-like, shape by the lake and saw her remove her
boots and put first her feet and then her hands in the water. I kept looking at her, every heartbeat, every breath concentrated on her movements, as if she was caressing me as well as the water. When she stood up, let the quilt fall off her shoulders and started walking out into the water it was almost as if my heart and breath stopped for just a few seconds. Some part of me wanted to reach out for camera, a paint brush, anything that would help me document the purity, the calm, the beauty of that night, with the moon, the lake and the woman.
She kept walking, but stopped just as the water reached her hands, and I saw her swaying, moving her arms, almost dancing in the thigh-high water. Without conscious thought I started walking towards her, drawn by some invisible string, needing to get closer, to be near her.
As I reached the edge of the lake she started walking again, and the magical feeling started slipping away from me. My muscles tensed as she kept walking and fear gripped me when her head disappeared under water. I ran out into the lake, silently cursing myself for not realizing what she was about to do, praying that I’d be able to reach her in time.
I dove into the water, searching for her body with my arms and legs, the light of the moon not strong enough to penetrate the water surface, not strong enough to let me see where she was. A desperate cry wanted to part my lips and send the last of my breath to the surface, when my fingers finally found her hair and my hands could grip her around the arms to pull her up and out of the water. Her arms were slack and it didn’t seem like she was breathing, so I hoisted her up in my arms and started walking towards the stone she’d been sitting on.
I half-ran to my goal, fighting the water every step of the way, cursing my foolish romantic ideas about beautiful women taking moonlight swims, fully dressed. Desperately praying once more that I wasn’t too late, that I’d be able to save her. I didn’t want this, not one more useless death, not one more person dying because of my inability to save her, not one more loved one gone, never to be seen again.
Perhaps it was my quick movements that jolted her back to her senses, because before I reached dry land again she started coughing and spitting up water. When she finally managed to take a short breath and then another I realized I was holding my own breath and had to force myself to inhale and exhale at the same time as she did.
She was lying still in my arms, but I felt a change in her just a few seconds later. It was as if it took some time for her to sort out where she was, but the very moment she realized that she was being held and carried by someone, I felt her body tensing up, then she started to fight my hold, squirming and flaying her arms around in circles. A low, complaining cry escaped from her tight lips and I started talking to her, explaining what was happening, telling her that I didn’t want her to die, telling her that she had to live.
I reached the stone and sat down heavily on top of it, still holding her in my arms. She continued her panicked fight against my hold, but I held her in my lap and talked and talked, not really sure what I was saying, just knowing that I had to get through to her, to calm her, to sooth her. It didn’t take long before the fight just left her and she started trembling. I freed one of my hands, grabbed the old quilt and wrapped it around her back. I held her close and kept whispering soft words, until I could feel the fear and tension leaving her, until she turned her face into my chest and started crying, her body shaking from the deep sobs that were running through her.
Her warm tears mixed with the cold water of the lake on my soggy sweater, and as I heard her expressing her deep sorrow I realized I was also crying. Big, silent tears were running down my face, and I could almost hear the squeaking hinges of the sealed door to my innermost fears and regrets as it opened slightly. I cried for Rose, for my mother, for myself, for every single tormented soul in the world and for the world in itself.
I knew I had a tendency to keep my feelings bottled up, partly because I didn’t know if I’d be able to stop the whirlwind of emotions if I opened myself to them, partly because, as a man, society dictated that I wasn’t supposed to have, or at least not show, my weaker emotions. But by letting those feelings out, joining her in her sorrow, it felt like I was cleansing my soul, that the tears cleaned away my anger, my fear and my sadness. And I was filled with strength, calm and a feeling of absolute rightness.
We sat there together in the night, on the stone, by the water, sharing the sorrow, the anger, the helplessness of our lives. It was almost like a slow, silent dance, where my body felt what she was feeling, where I could sense her emotions by the speed of her breaths, the rhythm of her heart, the tension of her muscles and the way her hand kept gripping or letting go of my sweater.
No more words seemed necessary and I was grateful, because I was fully aware of her reactions to my previous attempts at talking, helping and trying to care for her. I didn’t want this moment to end in anger and disappointment, so I just sat and held her close until the storm inside of her seemed to calm, until she silently leaned away slightly and looked at me, her eyes scanning my face.
‘I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t going to…’ she whispered, her eyes begging me to believe her.
I shook my head, and hugged her close again, letting my eyes and body tell her that she didn’t need to worry, that I believed her and, above all, that she was safe. Almost without thinking I bent my head and pressed a kiss to the side of her face, letting my lips linger softly on her cheek, closing my eyes and relaxing with a renewed sense of rightness. It felt good to hold her in my arms, it felt like she belonged there, and I didn’t ever want to let her go.
I felt her muscles tighten before she leaned away once more. Her sad eyes caressed my face and I saw them soften a few degrees before she leaned back in and pressed her trembling lips against mine. I held my breath and kept absolutely still, instinct telling me that that moment of fragile trust and careful closeness had to be on her terms. Her kiss was soft and then a bit harder just for a short while before she leaned away and looked at me again. Through the sorrow, there was a bright glimmer of something new shining from her eyes. I felt hope and then, as she licked her lips and leaned back in, lust came riding on a wave of warm feelings of compassion and perhaps even love.
Her kiss was warm, decisive, almost desperate in its nature, but I managed to hold myself back, to give her space, to let her control the pace, until she let her teeth nibble my lower lip. I might have groaned or growled, but from that moment passion pulled me under, and my mind no longer registered what was done, by whom and in what order. I just felt an all-consuming need to hold her, to kiss her, to let myself drown in the shivers she sent through my body, to celebrate every passionate response I could feel running through hers. The dance of sorrow replaced by a new, heavenly dance, where sadness and hopelessness had been chased away by comforting closeness and healing warmth. And underneath it all the certainty that we had both taken a few steps towards something better and brighter.
Through my passion I felt her body starting to shake, and I pulled away to look at her. She was tired, wet, probably in a state of shock and I needed to get her indoors and in a new set of warm clothes straight away. I kissed her cheek and whispered ‘dry clothes, now’ before I helped her up and then stood on slightly shaking legs. I didn’t want to let go of her, so I held her hand and walked her towards my car, quickly grabbing a set of clothes from the trunk, my cold skin telling me that I needed to get out of my own wet clothes as well.
We entered the house and she walked towar
ds the tiny guest chamber to find some clothes. I stepped into the bathroom and quickly – or as quickly as wet clothes will allow you to – removed my lake-soaked things, realizing that my phone had been submersed along with the rest of me. I shook my head and thought that saving a person’s life was well worth the cost of a new phone. Hell, in this particular case it was worth the cost of all the phones if the known world.
I started hanging my things on one of the clotheslines, my mind filled with thoughts of Rose’s hands touching and caressing me, and I realized that I would remember our short moment of passion, of sweet kissing, every single time I looked at that particular sweater. I would also remember the way she kept grabbing the soft cloth of it, in pain and frustration, and the way I was able to help her, to support her in her time of need.
I was happy I’d been able to comfort her and surprised that my actions had helped relieve some of the dark feelings I’d been carrying inside of my own self for so long. The helpless sorrow I’d been hiding from the world, and perhaps even myself, suddenly felt so much easier to bear.
After hanging my clothes, I walked out of the room and was met by a cold, shivering Rose. She was carrying the clothes she’d been wearing just a few hours ago and seemed not to want to look at me. I couldn’t stand the thought of going back to the awkwardness and embarrassment of our interactions the day before, so I took her hand as she passed me and squeezed it softly. She looked at me, gave my hand a quick press from her cold fingers and then walked into the bathroom.
I waited in the hallway for her, thinking that I needed to say something before we parted but worrying how to end our joint nightly adventure in a positive way. Especially since I didn’t want the night to end with us parting, because I didn’t want to let her out of my sight.
I bit my lower lip and ran my hands through my wet hair, before pushing my nervous fingers into my pockets to keep still. Perhaps the best way to end the night would be to wish her a good, restful sleep and return to the car, keeping a calm, straight face to hide my worries, wishes and longings.
I heard the low click of the bathroom door unlocking and turned towards it, my good-night-sleep-tight wishes hanging on the tip of my tongue. She looked nervous and anxious, and my worry found new strength as she walked closer and looked up at me with large, scared eyes.
‘I want… could you please hold me? I don’t want to be alone’ she whispered before taking my hand in hers and leading me into the small guestroom. Stunned, I followed her, thinking that some wishes did indeed come true quicker than others.
She closed the door behind us and I climbed into the small bed, keeping my clothes on, for warmth and protection. With me lying on my back, there was just enough room for her to climb in beside me, sideways, with her head on my shoulder and her arm across my torso. And as she settled in, I let my arm hug her close before I exhaled slowly, the surprise, almost shock, of her invitation making my heart beat too fast, my breaths too fast and shallow.
I felt her body relaxing, and before long she was sleeping safely in my arms. I felt her body next to, partly on top of, mine and I knew I would always cherish this moment. I closed my eyes and let her calm breaths lull me to sleep.
* * * * *
I jolted awake and sat up with a gasp. What had happened and where was I? My body started tilting slightly to the left, and I realized that one wrong move would have me falling out of bed. The small bed in the guestroom, in Gabriella’s house. The small bed, now filled to the brim with a large mountain of a man who was sleeping peacefully by my side. My tired questions were instantly answered by my quickly awakening mind.
Lesley
- 11.08.2021
- 16
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