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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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		                WARNING!
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Whisper 
by Jea (address withheld)

***

Waking in the night to the realization that a strange 
man is in your bed next to you and there's nothing you 
can do about it. (MF, nc, rp)
 
***

She lay on top of the bed, the comforter rumpled 
beneath her. Her shoes lay scattered on the floor where 
they had fallen. Her hair was tussled, and lay in long 
fine strands against her pillow. The room was dark. 

He spoke close to her ear, gentle, soothing. The pale 
light that filtered through the closed drapes revealed 
only the broadest hint of his features: the tip of his 
nose, the ridge of his forehead. His breath was sweet. 

She was aware of every detail around her. Her silken 
blouse felt cool against her skin. Her long skirt felt 
like a heavy sheet against her legs. 

Outside she could hear the far-off bark of a 
neighborhood dog. Inside, she could hear the faint 
ticking of a clock, his soft breathing, and her own 
heart beating. 

She stiffened as she felt his hand touch her stockinged 
foot, and gently trace a whisper up her calf. "Relax," 
he said, continuing his touch along her thigh and past 
her hip. He barely brushed the fine cloth of her work 
clothes, which in turn kissed her flesh. 

She tried to even out her breathing, hearing her heart 
beat, seeming to echo off of the walls. His touch came 
higher still, past the swell of her breast, along her 
neck, up into her hair. She closed her eyes. 

His fingertips made the round trip, this time detouring 
to explore her face: the contour of her nose, the 
softness of her lips. His touch rounded over her chin 
and down her chest, rising and falling with her breath 
so that she could only feel the slightest pressure. She 
could feel her skin tingle all up and down her body, as 
if the goose bumps could change the pressure on her 
skin. 

Her head rolled against the pillow and she let out a 
soft moan as she felt his fingers at the top button of 
her blouse. He unhooked each button with great 
gentleness. She could feel the rub of the material 
against her skin, every spot seeming to glow in the 
darkness. 

When he had finished, he slowly drew the blouse away 
from her chest. She could feel the air, cold, against 
her. He ran his fingertips across her breasts, and she 
could feel her nipples stiffen and rub against the thin 
material of her bra. 

He traced the edges of her bra, and found the clasp 
between her breasts. He unclipped it carefully, and 
then pushed the material aside. Again she felt the 
barest suggestion of his fingertips along the side of 
her breast and across the throbbing nipple. She felt 
herself shudder. 

"Rise up," he whispered, and almost mechanically she 
did so, allowing him to pull the blouse off of her 
shoulders. He then gently removed her bra, and she felt 
the strap touch first her shoulder, then her arm. With 
soft pressure at her shoulders, he eased her back into 
the bed. 

When he leaned over her, she could feel the heat coming 
off of him. His lips closed over one nipple, tasting 
with the faintest touch. She gasped when he removed his 
mouth, and blew against the wet spot he had made. 

He ran his palms down across her stomach, and then he 
slipped his hands beneath the elastic of her skirt and 
stockings. Carefully, slowly, he pulled them down 
across her hips and along her legs, until he pulled 
them off entirely. His motions created the barest 
breeze that flowed along the length of her body. Again 
she turned her head and moaned. 

She felt him tug gently at her underwear, and soon they 
too were removed from her body. There was nothing now 
between her and the soft cool air of the room. 

He nudged her legs apart, and she moved against him. 
"Be still," he whispered, and she was still. 

He stepped back for a moment. She was aware of every 
inch of her body exposed to the air. She could feel her 
comforter brushing her leg. A single strand of hair 
tickled her cheek. The rise and fall of her chest 
seemed to make the air move against her breasts. 

She could hear the tinkle of ice cubes in her water 
glass that was set, forgotten, on her bedside table. 
She started when she felt a drop of water on her skin, 
but tried to melt back into the bed when he said, 
"Shhhhhh..." Without warning she could feel the burning 
coldness against her nipple, and it was as if there was 
a direct connection to her most secret places between 
her legs. She arched her back, but he reacted to her 
motions as if expected, and the ice cube never left her 
nipple. 

A part of her heard the clinking of the ice cube as it 
was dropped back into the glass, and the soft sound of 
the glass being replaced on the table, but the rest of 
her felt only the sudden warm lips on her breast. 
Slightly firmer now, his tongue explored her nipple, 
his lips like fire. 

Her breathing seemed loud in the room as he moved up 
across her chest. Soon he was using his lips against 
her neck. She could feel his tongue trail up until it 
was behind her earlobe, and then all around her ear. 
She felt his teeth against her ear. She did not hear 
her own moaning, she only heard the sound of his mouth 
against her ear. 

He moved down her body, placing kisses against her 
skin. She gasped when he kissed her belly, then moaned 
when he dipped his tongue in her belly button. His 
hands were pushing against her knees, and she let him 
spread her legs. 

She felt his breath between her legs, and she held 
hers, waiting for the inevitable. It came -- the gentle 
touch of his tongue on her. 

Again she arched her back, but his hands on her caused 
her to lie still again. But she trembled. And he 
explored her. 

His tongue was gentle at first, but it grew bolder. She 
felt his finger slip inside her, and move within her. 
She could not control the slight movements of her hips 
and her chest as she felt the uncontrolled excitement 
building inside her. 

The room was filled with darkness, but she was filled 
with the light of the coming fulfillment. He was 
carrying her there, she could not resist him. She could 
hear her own cry as if it were apart from herself as 
the peak hit her. She rode each crest as it carried her 
higher and higher, as his tongue and fingers pushed her 
higher still. 

The tiny sound of his zipper broke through to her, and 
she whispered urgently at him, simply, "Please..." He 
was on her. She could feel him hard against her. She 
could feel his clothing against her skin. 

"Be still," he said, and he was in her. Hyper sensitive 
from her climax, it was as if she could feel every 
ridge. He thrust within her, matching her rhythms of 
only moments ago. His lips centered on one nipple, and 
she felt his teeth nipping at her. The waves were 
returning again. She felt herself buoyed by them. She 
was rising again, higher. And as he cried out and 
shoved hard within her, she again was tipped over the 
edge. 

He lay against her for a moment. She felt his breath 
hot beside her cheek. Tiny muscles reminded them of the 
waves where they were still connected. The clock was 
still ticking. 

As she lay panting, he drew away from her, and she 
could hear him zip up his pants. She could hear him 
moving about the room. It was too dark to see. 

She heard a strange loud snap near the wall. A moment 
later he was back by the side of her bed. "That was the 
phone line," he said. She felt the barrel against her 
temple, and the sound of the hammer snapping back, as 
loud as thunder in the silent room. "Remember," he 
said, as if she needed reminding, "don't do anything 
you'll regret." And then he was gone. 

She heard the door close behind him. 

For long moments she lay as if frozen. The air in the 
room felt thick, like foam. She felt like she could not 
draw it into her lungs. 

She began to tremble. She had been weeping long before 
she knew it, but then her sobs racked through her body 
like an earthquake. 

Her paralysis broken, she sat up and fumbled for the 
phone on the bedside table. As she pulled the receiver 
to her ear, she heard that it was dead. She pulled 
herself out of the bed, becoming tangled in the sheets 
and falling to the floor. She crawled to her purse, 
abandoned by the door, and searched it with shaking 
hands until she found her tiny cellular phone hidden in 
its depths. 

Sobbing, she dialed 9-1-1. She could barely speak, and 
so it took three tries before she could sputter into 
the telephone, "P-please, please help me, I-I've been 
raped..." 

END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 49