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Mirage
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.
Mirage
[A friend of mine informed me that this story was "naughty". I hope
you like it. -Idnlay]
He watched her through the window. Asleep, her hand lay curled against
the pillow, and the slow rise of her breast scattered shadow away from
the starlight. As he pushed the thin wire between the window and sill,
the fall of her breast let the shadows play in the folds of the blanket
draped around her. The wire touched the latch, once, twice. He looked
away from her serene face and parted lips, carefully settling the wire
again. The window slid open under his hand.
She murmured as the cool breeze touched her skin. He laid the mask over
her nose and mouth, and she raised her hand as if to brush away an
insect. Then it fell limp against the blanket.
He checked the pulse at her neck and watched her breathing for a time.
Pulling back the covers, he tenderly pulled off her nightgown over her
head and then replaced the dislodged mask. The webbing went over her
wrists and ankles, snug but not too tight, and he tied them down. He
smoothed a hair away from her face before covering her eyes with the
blindfold.
He removed the mask and stroked her curves while he waited for her to
awake. He kissed her breasts during the first gasps. When they turned
to softs moans he moved down and explored her mound with his tounge.
She moved under him, trying to bring her clitoris to his tongue. He
moved away and licked the folds above, and then the vaginal opening
below. His shoulders pressed against her thighs as he ran his fingers
over her stomach.
She cried out when he finally came to the clitoris. Great shudders
wracked her body, she arched her back, and collapsed.
"I am the incubus," he whispered to her, "naught but a dream in the
night." He smiled, though she could not see it, and replaced the mask.
Untying her, he carefully dressed her again in her nightgown. He set her
pillow beneath her head once more, and pulled up the covers. He
collected his webbing and blindfold.
He watched her a while, serene again in the starlight. Then he took the
mask, stepped out the window, and slid it closed.
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