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From: "Graham Wheeler" <gwheeler@lex.infi.net>
Subject: "Sarulandra" (M/F, cons, first story)
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THIS STORY CONTAINS MATERIAL THAT WOULD MOST LIKELY BE DEEMED
"INAPPROPRIATE FOR MINORS". IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 AND/OR DO NOT ENJOY READING
SUCH MATERIAL GO AWAY /NOW/....
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------
You may keep a copy of this text, and you may distribute it, so long
as it remains unaltered, including this header. Yadda, yadda, yadda.
	
A much cooler-looking version of the story (in addition to any other
works)
is available at my WWW site:
http://www.geocities.com/RainForest/6020


_Sarulandra_

By Graham Wheeler | 07/29/97


Rain falls in sheets upon the ground as I try to keep the old Ford on the
road. I like rain; really I do. But not when it's coming down as though it
were trying to kill me. I can almost hear the ominous thunderclouds
laughing to each other as they watch my slow and treacherous progress.
Thousands of droplets enter the range of my headlights and seem to take
their form and existance right there, dancing in front of me; reflecting
the light back into my eyes as if to entrance me long enough to make the
journey into Old Man Tree. /None of that!/ I think, and ease back on the
gas a bit more as I come to a hairpin turn.

Miles upon miles, it seems to me... the only sounds are the purring engine
and the water, falling on the truck and being thrown up by the tires.
Eyelids droop and flash open. Up ahead, in the distance, I can see a tiny
light. Feeling refreshed with my goal in reach, I give the truck more gas.
I'm almost to Megan's house when I see the whitetail. Several hundred
pounds of prime female deer versus a ton of American-made truck. Several
hundredths of a second to decide what to do. It's not going to move; it's
fucking /tharn/ in the hypnotic glare of my brights. Even if I brake now
I'll still hit it and if I swerve I--

The vehicle slows down noticably as the deer meets the chassis with a
sickening crunch of bone and glass and steel. My mind slows down too; In
the tiny fractions of time I see the deer; not quite dead, horribly broken,
rushing up to my windshield with a look of confusion still on the dying
face.

Darkness. Pain. Pain cutting through the nothingness of thought. Then it's
all gone.

My first conscious thought is one of concern. Megan sounded nervous on the
phone, and why shouldn't she? All alone up there and the weather just gets
worse... flooding in some areas already. I've got to load some stuff into
the truck and get out there before the real shit hits. Suddenly I realize I
can't see or hear.. that I've already done those things and that the truck
(and I) were in some kind of accident. /Am I dead?/ I think to myself with
no small amount of fear. I can't move; I'm restrained somehow.. In moving a
bit some feeling returns. I think I'm on a bed of some sort; it's firm but
soft under my back. Warm. Peaceful. I'm not dead. Then the real fear hits
me... /Am I really messed up?/ The doe flashes before me and hits me and I
think I must be paralyzed, but able to feel... Everything fades out again.

I can hear. I can see. (It's blurred but hey...) I'm lying in Megan's guest
bedroom in her own house, safe and snug. I can't move much of anything and
my head is fairly immobilized but I can see that I'm bandaged around my
chest and one of my arms. That might explain the pain that shoots through
me when I breath deeply... broken ribs. I don't care; it's so very
wonderful just to be alive at this point. It must still be raining outside,
but not so hard. The drops patter against the roof and the window in a
sleepy manner. I can see that I'm basically tied down to the bed. I guess
Megan thought I might suddenly wake up and damage myself even worse by
trying to move. Always thoughtful, that woman.. It's nice to have friends
that think about the little things.

/Let's see if the ol' vocal cords still work/. I try to form words but I
can only manage a pitiful sort of wheezing squawk. It makes me want to cry
and laugh at the same time. Suddenly from beyond my field of vision I hear
the quick scrape of a chair across hardwood floor and a soft little gasp.
Moments later Megan's lovely face hovers over mine, and I see in her face
such incredible fear and in her hazel eyes such incredible relief.

"Hi," I whisper. Tears pool in her eyes and fall on my face and she smiles
as though she hasn't smiled all her life.

"Hi," she chokes out. All of a sudden she becomes aware of the mess she's
making and looks around, presumably for a tissue. I take the opportunity to
taste one of her teardrops, why, I don't know. I feel rather shameful while
doing it but when that salty little droplet touches the tip of my tongue I
can almost feel how anxious and joyful she was. It's not like her to be so
concerned; Megan is one of the strongest women I know. Another moment and
there she is again dabbing at my face and hers with a Kleenex. Again, her
lips open and let forth the river of her voice, but this time it flows much
more smoothly and gracefully.

"You had me so worried. I saw your truck coming down the road and then
something happened and I ran out and all the way down the road until I
reached what was left of the truck. I thought for sure you were--" She
looks away again. "That was three days ago." I think to myself, /She's been
sitting here the whole time!/ But then something else intrudes into my
thought and rips it up. I must not have eaten in almost four days! Suddenly
I feel faint, and whisper to Megan:

"Food.." It sounds rather strange in reply to her own words but she
understands immediately, eyes widening and worry crossing her face again.

"Oh God I'm so sorry! You must be half-starved! Hang on; I'll be right back
with something." She departs amid a turbulent rush of air before I can say
anything, leaving me once again lost in thought. I hear distant thunder
mixed with the whirring of a microwave oven and the clinking of kitchen
things. Presently Megan returns and sets something next to the bed on a
tray. "I put your head like that cause I was afraid you might have injured
your neck, but that doesn't seem to be the case.. You think you can sit
up?"

"I'll give it a shot," I whisper, more strongly. Megan removes the
restraints and helps pull me away far enough to prop the pillows up for
sitting. It takes considerable effort but I get into a decent position and
rest a bit. From my new vantage point I can look around quite well. It's a
nice room but at the moment I am famished, and my gaze travels towards the
source of the smell that just reached me. Chicken soup! Megan carefully
puts the tray over me, and with my good hand I can still eat decently.
Never in my life, I think, has anything tasted more delicious than that
ordinary bowl of chicken soup. As though a condemned man, after recieving a
pardon at the last second, goes on to eat his first meal of a new life.
Megan seems quite happy that I'm getting it all down with no trouble. "It's
wonderful," I beam at her. Then I remember other feelings. "Did you.. were
you sitting by me the whole time?" Megan turns and blushes ever so
slightly.

"I.. Yes, I guess I did.." She casts her eyes down, as though ashamed of
something.

"Whatever is the matter, Megan?"

"Oh, nothing; nothing at all. I'll let you rest now, 'k?" She removes the
tray and heads out of the room and I can't quite help the feeling that
she's hiding something. But she's right in that I do need to rest more.
Sleep sneaks up on me like old age, and I go into the land of dreams.

-------------------------------

I love walking in the woods. Out here, there's nothing but that which
belongs here. I'm strolling; maybe floating, through this evergreen forest
when I hear a voice behind me. Not a human voice, mind you, but something
altogether strange.

"Why do you come here?"

Whirling, I see the dead doe, only it's not dead. Its mangled body drips
life slowly onto the soft earth, but it seems totally indifferent.
"Wh..What do you want with me?" I back away in terror, hoping that the
ghastly phantasm will leave.

"Why do you come here?" It repeats, cocking its good eyeball toward me.
Shivering, knees weak, I try to reply.

"I don't understand! I didn't mean to harm you! Please, just go away and
leave me alone!" Then, the deer throws back its broken head and laughs, and
to one who has never heard a dead deer laugh I will not try to reconstruct
it for you; it rather defies description.

"Human, you do not understand things so well as you think. I am not here
that I might seek revenge or torment upon you, but that I might help you to
see what before you would not see." At this point, I simply sit down,
because it seems like the thing to do. I close my eyes, hoping that when I
open them the deer will be gone. It isn't.

"Tell me, then, what I am not 'seeing', because I'd sure like to know."

"Do you not know the depth of your feeling for Megan? Do you not admit to
the love within you?" It was my turn to laugh, but it was a sort of
madman's laugh. Here I am, in the middle of some dream-forest, with the
blood-soaked body of a deer conversing with me about love.

"I care very much for her, I suppose. She's very dear to me." The deer
frowns slightly (can they /do/ that!?)

"But you both hide your true feelings from one another. Why?" I look away
sheepishly (and because I just don't like looking at the damn thing),
searching for an answer.

"I-- I don't know...  I mean, ok, I /do/ know, I guess. I love her, but do
I really? It's.. It's like, I don't want to find out.. I don't want to hurt
her, I guess.."

"And does that not say something in itself? Why did you come here?" And
suddenly we are in the bedroom again, in the dream still, and I understand
what it meant.

"I came because I was worried about Megan, and I cared for her, and.." my
voice trails off as I look inward and begin admitting things to myself.

"Now do you see where your actions, and hers, are rooted? You must not
fear, else you will become enslaved by it. Go now, and remember what you
have known here and always." Saying this, the creature vanishes.

"Wait!" I cry out, "Did you have to die so that I could know this?" The
breeze gathers itself into a whisper.

"You will understand when it is time." The whisper fades into the rustling
leaves, and I am again alone. With a start I awake, breathing heavily. A
glance at the clock tells me it is just past seven in the morning.

Without knowing quite how or why I manage to rise, swing my legs out, and
stand up beside the bed. I can stand on my own! I'm a little wobbly on my
feet, but I take a few tentative steps forward. It works! I know Megan's
awake because light is pouring through the hallway. /I must show her how
fast I'm recovering/, I think. With some effort I walk to the doorway and
into the hall, searching. It's been a while since I was up here. Too long.
She must be taking a shower; I can hear water running from the direction of
the bathroom. I decide to hang out in the kitchen, maybe surprise her with
a little something.

My legs feel stronger already as I enter the kitchen. I don't know if I can
really fix a decent breakfast with one good arm, but it's worth a try.
Quickly as I can I mix up some pancake batter and begin pouring it onto the
hot griddle. I hear the water stop running halfway into the first batch,
and prepare to surprise her. My culinary confidence grows by the minute.
I'm taking the cakes and flipping them with the spatula so they come down
just right... I'm in the zone.  Flip.. sssssss....Flip....sssssss.....Flip..
.I notice movement in the doorway and look up mid-flip to see Megan.
Staring. Naked.

 The warm light of the sunrise comes through the kitchen window and
perfectly illuminates her sculpted body. In a flash my eyes take in her
little feet, movie-star legs, not-too-wide hips, perfect thighs, joined
somewhere below the carefully trimmed back nest of softest black hair. Just
the faintest outline of her womanhood visible; and then I'm tracing up,
past her navel, past the slight scars on her torso, to those little
projections that would make Venus herself jealous. Dark nipples half-erect
in the cool air, rich, creamy skin all around.. 

Even as time slows down and I take in her delectable curves another small
part of my mind taps me on the shoulder and reminds me of the pancake. It's
already left the planned trajectory though, and is now sailing lazily
towards the far wall. With a soft thwack it greets the vertical surface and
suddenly the trance is broken. Megan turns beet red and just sort of stands
there, with a confused expression on her face. Despite the embarrassment of
the situation the whole pancake incident is causing her to smile ever so
slightly.

Looking away, I stammer out, "I.. Uh, made some breakfast.." Looking away
from her seems even more awkward, so I look at her again. She still hasn't
moved; hasn't made any attempt to cover up. I venture another icebreaker.
"Boy, I sure could use one of those right now." /No, wait,/ I think,
/that's no good!/ "Err, a shower, I mean." Then I break down laughing,
because I can't help it, and she, wonder of wonders, begins to laugh with
me. My injured ribs protest loudly against such exercise, and I sink to the
floor in pain. Megan stops laughing.

"Are you ok?" <I>There's that worried little girl again..</I>

"Ohh.. ow.. I'm allright.. just need a bit more time to heal down there,
that's all... Are you ok yourself?"

"Yes, I... Well, I didn't know you could get up and move around all by
yourself, so I just went around like.." here she sort of gestures towards
herself. It's a thoroughly awkward moment. Once again, the pancakes come to
the rescue. The smell of burning batter wafts ever-so-pleasantly to our
noses. Megan gives a little shriek and runs for the stove. I try to look
away modestly, and speak again.

"Umm.. well I seem to just be making a mess of things here.. Do you mind if
I take a shower, maybe do some cleaning for once? Breakfast is so much more
fun when the other person doesn't smell like a wino." I hear her
crystalline giggle from behind me.

"Help yourself. I salvaged the one change of clothes from the truck, when I
went back to it the other day." I had to get out of there, and let her
preserve whatever dignity she could. Limping to the bathroom, I see my
extra clothes up on a shelf and go in, closing the door behind me. The fan
is running but there is still a great deal of moisture in the air from
Megan's shower. The room is alive with her scent. I struggle to keep my
mind off of her as I strip down. Then I realize: /What about the bandages?/
Great. I can't shower with all this junk on me, and I dare not remove it..
Oh well. Pulling my clothes back on, I head back to the kitchen, this time
stopping short before the doorway.

"Umm... I kind of forgot about the bandages..I might as well come back and
eat something.. Are you...decent?"

"Not really. It doesn't much matter now, does it?" Stoic acceptance in her
voice.

"Hrrmmm... well, I guess not.." I walk into the room. Megan is sitting at
the kitchen table, still naked, near-perfect breasts hovering over a plate
of pancakes. My pancakes. Our pancakes. Trying not to stare, I take a seat
opposite her. She speaks.

"They're very nice, thank you." My ears turn crimson. She speaks again.
"The pancakes, you perv." I let out an awkward thank-you and resume looking
at nothing in particular. 

"I, uh.. I just thought it might be nice to surprise you.. you've been
worrying yourself sick over me and you've been taking care of me so well..
You know? I wanted to do something nice for you." I look back, at her face,
scanning for a reaction. /There's that lovely smile again./

"It's very nice. Of course..."

"What?" /She's doing it again.../

"Oh, nothing. Let's just eat, and then we'll see about cleaning you up." So
we do. We eat in silence, silence that seems both pleasurable and
unbearable. Then it's over, and she's beckoning me down the hallway and to
the bathroom again.

"Strip down and sit in the tub." I don't dare disobey. The clothes go off,
and there stand I for all to see. Alone, in the bathroom, with Megan, naked
save for my bandages. I sit in the tub, feeling the water left by her and
at the same time fighting to keep my thoughts down. Megan notices my
troubles. "It's arousing, isn't it? But it's only fair..and you certainly
have nothing to be ashamed of. Now put your arm up and I'll take these
things off." She gingerly unwinds the bandages, revealing a chest with
massive bruises and some cuts. I shudder as I take in my ugly condition and
give thanks to God that it is only this bad. Now that my broken arm is free
it hurts a bit more, but I keep it still. And then, Megan is in the tub
with me, kneeling in front of me with a sponge.

Water pours from the showerhead and cascades about us as Megan soaks the
sponge through. Gently, ever so gently, she dabs at my cuts with the
sponge. I wince as the soap stings, but it feels good just the same. All of
a sudden I'm looking at her, and she's looking into my eyes, and we see
each other for the first time, or maybe the second. I see her love for me,
love she tried to conceal, flowing up through her eyes, and reflecting my
own love towards her. I had no idea how I was going to talk to her about
what I had realized but now it doesn't matter. Words are not needed.
Hesitantly, I take her sponge-hand and raise it to my cheek. She drops the
sponge.

With incredible tenderness she brushes my cheek with her fingers, and then
my lips find her soft, fleshy palm and kiss it. I hear her sharp intake of
breath; feel her tensing up. Time, we have in abundance. I let her lather
my greasy, matted hair with shampoo. It feels strange, but in a good way. I
dip my head into the stream of falling water and let it rinse my hair
soothingly. When I pull my head out I see her looking at me; tears in her
eyes, face contorted with pain I do not understand. I break the magical
silence.

"Megan, what's the matter?"

"I saw /him/ in a dream last night. You know.. Greely.." I feel a sort of
creeping dread within me. "He was just walking towards me, with the knife,
and it was happening all over again and I couldn't stop it, I
just..couldn't.." I reach out with my good arm, trying to comfort her,
reassure her, but I realize my mistake the moment I touch her shoulder and
she recoils in fear, her graceful frame racked with sobs. Lester Greely,
convicted felon; the man that ten years ago raped Megan and left her for
dead among the dumpsters in south Queens. And now I knew the depth of her
fear, and I reach out in another way. I don't even know why I spoke how I
did; it just was.

"Lester is dead and gone, Megan.. the evil done to you died with him; you
just didn't notice. Let it go, and let the love within you replace it." I
understood something else, too, though I didn't know how. "I saw him last
night in a dream too. He was the good Lester, though, not the bad one. Do
you understand?" She looks at me, tears more precious than diamonds
streaming from the reflecting pools of her eyes.

"I... I want to, so bad. I want to think that.. I don't understand
though!"

"He showed me the truth I had been hiding myself from; that I had feared
wasn't true. The truth of my love for you."

"I love you too, but I'm scared! I'm so scared of losing you to.. to
<I>him</I>..." I was rather shocked by this.

"/Never/ while I live will I allow that.. You know I wouldn't. You know
inside how much I love you; now take out your fear from between us! Let's
pu-" She silences me with her lips. Pressing her soft mouth against my own.
The sound of falling water grows distant as the blood rushes in my ears; as
she opens her mouth slightly to take my lip inside. I relax in the warm
rain of the shower and the still wetness of her mouth, but I can wait no
more. My tongue gently knocks at her lip, and is invited inside her warm
chamber. I taste the sweetness of her mouth and the sensuous slimyness of
her own tongue. Have my eyes been open all this time? I shut them and smell
her arousal rising up between us, and I feel my cock responding according
to its own rigid doctrine.

She gives a slight moan of pleasure, vibrating up through her mouth and
down into mine. I feel her tension dissolving
and her body relaxing into the shower. Even as our tongues explore each
other she reaches out with her arms to pull herself closer. Breaking off,
she reaches for the sponge and begins to lather my aching body. I close my
eyes again and enjoy the sensation of her work; soft and rough against my
skin. She's very careful not to disturb my chest and especially my arm
(/hmm... won't this thing need to be set?/).  I worry about re-breaking the
arm but in the same instant my dread of the future evaporates with the
steam from the shower, and the smooth action of her delicate, soapy fingers
sliding over my penis brings me back to the present. She notices my hissing
breath and smiles in a most naughty fashion, increasing the tempo of her
dancing hands. With my one working arm I grab her away and let the shower
rinse the soap and dirt away and down the drain. We are clean.

Disappointed perhaps, she gives me a playful slap with her trapped arm. I
bring the offending hand to my lips and kiss it again. Megan forces two
fingers between my lips (well, she didn't have to work hard!) and wets
them, then draws them out. She rises to stand above me, and for the first
time I am treated to an uncompromising view of her cunt. Spreading her wet
fingers over it she makes no small suggestion as to what she wants. With
that trusty ol' good arm I reach out behind her and, grabbing her shapely
buttock, pull her to my lips. A tentative lick around her labia is enough
to send her moaning. Water runs down her and under her, mixing with her own
wetness and dripping onto my mouth and face.

Nudging her, I look into her eyes and she understandingly adjusts the
showerhead away from us.
I resume my attention towards that mystical valley swollen with hot blood.
Her clitoris beckons but I know she can't take it quite yet. I insert my
little finger into her moist tunnel just enough to thoroughly wet it, then
withdraw. My tongue traces the outlines of her features and passes her
shudders into me. Megan sighs louder this time, and her sex drips with
renewed power into my face. Sweet, musky, perfect to the taste. /Much
better on pancakes than maple syrup/, I think lewdly. I rub my nose in her
wetness and pause for a moment to catch her off guard. Without warning I
slide my moistened pinky into the little pucker of her anus, while at the
same time thrusting my tongue into her tunnel and rubbing her swollen clit
with my wet nose.

 The effect is nothing short of earth shaking, at least that's the
impression I get from her. Megan gasps and her back arches convulsively,
and as I play around below she begins to come. With my one arm I try to
support her as her knees buckle and she sinks down, hot fluid washing over
me. I pull my tongue out of her depths, leaving a glistening strand of
saliva connecting us. Carefully I guide her until she rests against the
wall of the shower, still heaving and panting from her tremendous orgasm.
Eyes half-open, mouth slack, she rolls her head around to face me. I
(again, carefully) bend to kiss her neck, and she raises her head with
trembling muscles to give me better access. A little tickle here.. pressure
there.. gently suck the earlobe... My movements flow naturally over her
body. Soft sighs and warm breaths my companions. The ever-present shower of
water, soothing away pains and fears with its unshaking sound. Cupping her
breast in my hand I lick around her nipple, careful not to touch anything
but the nipple. More moans. God, this feels good.

Gently I take her nipple between my teeth and give it just a tiny amount of
pressure, then back off and lick around her areola, blowing softly on the
wetness I leave. Megan coos appreciatively, but I can feel her tensing up
again as I work my way down her chest, and to the faint but everpresent
pink scars left years ago by a 5-inch Buck hunting knife.
I know what she's thinking in that little part of her head and I won't let
her. Kissing the angry flesh, running my tongue across her jagged memories,
I make love to her pain. The tension is gone. I take another quick dive
between her legs and collect more of her pooling arousal.

By this time she's beginning to resume her interest in my own body. Pulling
away, I come back up to kiss her lips, letting her taste herself. This
really turns her on, and soon she's down on my neck giving me playful
little nips and bites. She works her way down, down, caressing my own
sensitive nipples with her teeth and tongue (I didn't know how sensitive I
/was/ there!). Down, down, licking around my navel and not stopping. She
pauses for a moment to look up at me, a seductive smile on her lips, and
then my view of the world below is blocked out by the flash of her wet,
auburn hair. I don't need to see, though.

My neglected, throbbing cock broadcasts her every action in stereo to my
mind. I feel her hand holding tightly around the base, and then I feel
something wet hit the head and ooze down the sides. Just as quickly, her
hand begins to move up and down, spreading her saliva around evenly. Then I
can feel her tongue sliding in between the little bit of foreskin and glans
as she strokes up and down, down and up. I feel her wet mouth descending
over it like a sheath, and pressure builds as she begins to suck. An
incredible feeling of enveloping warmth flows through me as she takes me in
as far as she can. I feel a tightening at the base of my cock and know I'm
near my own orgasm, and she feels it too. Suddenly I'm out in open air
again, spit-slicked stick being blown on by the restless air currents
generated by the shower. It's another delicious feeling in and of itself.
But now, she's sitting up.

Our eyes meet again as she guides herself down upon me, and as I enter her
I have to fight to keep from exploding right then and there. Wet beyond
wetness, warm beyond warmth, soft beyond softness. Again I take her nipple
into my mouth and suckle like a babe; Megan begins to rock gently up and
down, hips grinding into my own. My bad arm has probably been moving too
much, but I've got so much endorphine in my system I don't notice any pain
at all. Faster and faster we rock against each other as squishy wet noises
come from between us. I'm rising, rising with Megan, to a plateau beyond
thought. Squish. Pant. Slosh. Sigh. No dirty talk, no screaming, just
rising, together. Again and again our heads drift together and apart,
touching lips, teeth, tongues.

"I love you," she gasps.

"I love you," I moan in return, and I mean it.
  
 We reach the top of the plateau together and stand, wavering, on the
brink, seeing all creation spread out before us.
The dam breaks. She cries out in pure pleasure and my own weak voice joins
her. In the solid field of white light behind my fluttering eyelids I see
the birth of universes, and I see the deer again, healed and beautiful and
smiling down upon me (can they /do/ that!?), and then we are falling,
sliding, tumbling back down into life, into the ordinary, and once again I
hear and I see and I can think. The warm water falls upon us; washing away
the sweat. Face flushed with exertion and joy, Megan kisses me again, and
then I am sliding out of her and she is going down on me a second time. I
notice that my ribs don't seem to hurt at all, even with pressure on them.
It's out of my mind for the moment, as she has once again presented her
nether regions to my own mouth. With relish I clean up the juice that
trickles out of her tunnel, holding it in my mouth. Then we are back
sitting next to each other and cooling down. We look at each other, and
indeed she looks quite nice with my semen running in little rivulets from
the corners of her mouth. I kiss her again, sharing with her. Nothing is
said. Everything has been said. I could sit like this for a long time, just
holding her against me... but the shower begins to go from warm to cool,
and then to cold. Still warm inside, we shut off the water and help each
other out, wrapped in a single large towel. The rest of the day is spent in
her bed; in her arms, as we drift in between a dreamlike wakefulness and a
sleep that holds reality inside.


THE BEGINNING



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