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Diana 2/3
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Diana
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Part II
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Michael stumbled from his hiding place in the shadow of the
ancient oak, falling to one knee, hands braced to catch himself. His
face and groin were burning as he looked up, though burning for
different reasons. She only laughed at him, a rumble of laughter like
muted thunder as one of the blond women stepped forward and reached
out a hand to help him up. The blond's hand was steady and dry in his
damp one, her nails long and sharp and red as blood. She led him over
to where the redhead sat on the flat rock, damp with the water
dripping down.
She cocked her head, studying him carefully, from the thatch
of windswept stringy hair, down the length of his sweat-stained
clothing, pausing briefly at the all-too-evident bulge in his pants.
She didn't look particularly impressed.
"You don't look like a hunter." she said. Michael shook his
head, while trying to place her accent. It seemed familiar, somehow,
like something he'd heard before, but he couldn't name exactly where.
"I'm just a hiker." he explained, trying his best scapegrace
smile, wondering if he'd wandered accidentally onto private property.
The paint signs had gotten very faint towards the end of his trail.
"I'm just here to admire the....beauty..." and his voice trailed off
as his blush deepened. Michael tried desperately to keep his eyes on
her face and off her naked body.
Then she smiled at him, a smile so stunning he was dizzy with
the force of it. Her teeth flashed like a model's, bright and sharp
in the sunlight. "We like admirers" she said, and with that beckoned
to the six blond women, calling them over from their perches on rocks,
their games in the water, their rolling in the drying autumn grass
and fallen leaves. They came with fragments of red leaf caught in
their tangled hair, with clear water drying on golden skin. He had
never, never in his life seen women so beautiful.
And then they were touching him. Michael tensed, unsure what
to do or say in this totally impossible situation. They murmured
gently among themselves, laughing in some foreign language as they
eased off his backpack, untied the sweater wrapped around his waist,
pulled off his Vikings cap. They began kissing his neck, his chest,
his hard nipples as they unbuttoned his cotton shirt and slid it off
his shoulders. The blondes ran their uniformly long fingernails down
his chest and back as one knelt in front of him, undoing his pants and
removing them, dropping sharp kisses on his trembling thighs. Michael
lifted his legs, one at a time, blindly. They took off boots and
socks and pants, his gaze still focused on the blurring face of the
redhead and her brightly shining eyes. Then, with their hands and
mouths moving over him, she leaned over...and kissed him, sliding her
tongue deep into his mouth. It was then that he collapsed.
*****
End of Part II
M.A. Mohanraj
January 12, 1994
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