Origin Of Sin

24. The Touch Of The Crown (¡)

CHAPTER 24 THE TOUCH OF THE CROWN

My sheets were hot and humid, sticking to me in uncomfortable ways. I could have sworn I fell asleep on the couch... I distinctly remember Zuemier's troubled scent emanating into the air when I sunk into the cushions, too tired to make the extra effort to the bedroom.

But now, in my dozy delirium, in an out of sleep and simultaneously restless and exhausted, the hot silk sheets didn't help in soothing me into slumber.

I could hear my self whine, whimper in frustration. My legs felt like jelly, numb— escaping this heat trap seemed impossible. But so was the idea of sleeping more that half an hour tonight.

Finally, or maybe momentarily, I felt a darkness encase me, lay over me like a thick, foggy blanket. I was dreaming of phases, in layers, like papers that acted as mirrors and revealed themselves to me in blinks. In some blinks I could see the window of the bedroom, the lilac walls and a full moon beaming down from the sky to illuminate the deep, dark night.

But in other blinks, I could see myself staring into nothing, floating on top of a water I couldn't feel or see but feeling incredibly melancholic. My stuttering dreams were bleak.

Then I felt a tickling at my toes, at my ankles, my calves. A silky climbing sensation, running— sliding it's way up the flesh of my legs, my thighs. The sensation echoed in both blinks. In the blink of nothingness, small puffs of smoky colors, green that morphed into violet then red— creeped into my vision, only to dissipate soon after.

And in the blinks of my bedroom... I thought I saw a shadow cast itself against the lilac walls, illuminated from the lights still on in the living room.

My breath caught in all of the realities, in all of the phasing paper layers that acted as mirrors. The feather soft touches on my legs and thighs were gentle, caressing the flesh. I thought I heard the bed dip, the springs creak.

I thought I felt a puff of hot air on my inner thigh, warming my core like the heat from burning coal.

I turned from my side to my back, my thighs slowly opening in a lucid fit of irony. I welcomed the soft caresses of the heat.

The bed creaked more, the presences heat now closer and their touch became more persistent. Their gentle caresses, like the gradual clicks of a roller coster climbing towards its peak, morphed into deep, squeezes and pulls. It's calloused hands massaged my thighs, leaving no muscle stiff as it meticulously lulled every chunk of flesh into a relax submission.

I could hear myself sigh softly as a pair rough thumbs were pressed deeply into my inner thigh, high enough to scrape the cloth of my panties before being dragged down to my knees in slow circular shapes.

I shivered at the sensation of calming hands so close to me... they brought up explicit ideas into the nothingness reality, the puffs of smokey colors becoming more vibrant. I felt a hand— my own, slink itself down my chest, my stomach, and straight to my panty clad core and brushing against the soft fabric.

I thought I heard a sound, the bed, the water vibrating from the bass of it before I was rewarded with another puff of a hot air, warming my fingertips and making my hairs stand up in delight.

The sensation I didn't realize I was craving came promptly— soft, damp, supple lips laid devastatingly lethal kisses on my skin. Delicate and kind, no intent to harm and carried the same relaxing, massaging touch as it's hand. I gripped myself reflexively, as it's lips brushed against my panties while his hands worked a hard rub into my raised thighs.