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So I rushed in at the last minute to Temari, luckily before they closed, and ordered what I always do, the sashimi lunch special.
And, well, after being on the road for an hour, well, a girl has to take care of business, you know? So I went to the little girl’s room and did just that, feeling very relieved to make it in time there, too. And while I was sitting there, I felt a funny shifting of the world, and I though fearfully, ‘Oh, God! No! Not again!’
And I came out of the restroom, and the world was still as it was, thank God! But … wait …
There’s a girl sitting at my table. I walk up to her.
“Excuse me,” I say quietly, trying not to be annoyed, “This is my table.”
I couldn’t have been in the bathroom that long, could I have?
And the girl at my table turns, and looks up from me from her chair, and … OMS! It’s YOU!
“Saga!” I exclaim in shock and surprise, “what are you doing here?”
You smiled, pleased at me, and say: “I thought I would join you for lunch. Besides, don’t you want the company?”
Flabbergasted, I sit down across from you, and at that point the kind old lady brings out the appetizer, the miso soup and the hot tea.
“Oh,” I say quickly, turning a very slight pink, “what would you like to have?”
“Some tea,” you say to the lady, who nods and smiles at you and leaves and returns with another cup of tea for you.
“You don’t want anything else?” I ask puzzled.
“I already had my supper,” you answer, “I’m fine.”
I don’t have time to contemplate this, as the main course arrives. I offer you some sashimi, but you politely defer, indicating I should dig in. I smile, pray, then mix the soy sauce and wasabi together and take the first piece … it’s maguro.
“Mmmm!” I sigh contentedly, closing my eyes with pleasure as I slowing chew the fish, savoring the taste.
I open my eyes to see a small smile on your face.
“What?” I ask shyly.
“I like watching you eat,” you say primly.
“Hmmphf!” I snort, but continue eating as you (regally) wave me on to do.
And it’s so nice, me eating, you watching me eat, us talking about nothing: how you’re doing, how I’m doing, the weather, the day.
As I finish up, you lean in conspiratorially and whisper to me: “Watching you eat has made me so horny! I just so want to take you home, throw you on the bed and fuck you!”
“Saga!” I exclaim in a shocked whisper, then add: “besides, I don’t wanna …” then I look around in embarrassment, checking to see if anybody can hear our whispered conversation, “… you know …” I say, even though nobody else is listening in to our conversation, so immersed in each of theirs, “on a full stomach!”
Your conspiratorial smile turns wicked. “Well, then, I’ll have to take care of some things first, and then we can …” your smile widens predatorially, “… well.”
And then you lean back, leaving unsaid what’s unsaid.
“‘Things’?” I ask, confusing written across my face.
“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head, Älskling!” You say confidently, so smug.
“Uh, okay,” I say, not knowing what else to say, feeling a bit overpowered and led along.
I settle up and we leave the restaurant, and as we exit, I feel another, subtle, shift.
I blink, twice.
“Where are we?” I ask. This parking lot is not the parking lot in front of Temari. I turn back around. The lady is turing the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed,’ but there is it, plain as day, in both Japanese and English: ‘Temari’
I look back at the parking lot. It’s not the parking lot I know. And my car isn’t there. And the skyline is … different.
I’m not in Rockville anymore.
“Why, Stockholm, of course, silly girl!” You say so easily. “Where else would be be?”
You lead a befuddled me to your car and we drive off.
“Where are we going?” I asked with a slight concern.
But you have none. You hum quietly, musically, as you concentrate on your driving.
We park in front of a huge brick façade and that’s when you turn to me.
“Sweetheart,” you say tenderly, “I have to take care of urfa escort some work here. Can you wait a half-an-hour or so? I’ll leave the engine running, as you may not be used to the cold here, but can you do that? Wait for me for a bit?”
You look imploringly at me.
“Uh, yeah, okay, sure.” I say, like a little girl.
You smile warmly at me, pat my arm, and exit the car, going into the large building. I see an engraving of “Universitet Stockholms” encircling a lit torch with two branches.
Huh. The University of Stockholm. I wonder if you’re talking with one of your professors.
I turn to my Edna St. Vincent Millay and continue my reading.
After a while I’m awakened to you reentering the car, and we’re off again. You say nothing to me, but it looks to me the conversation didn’t go well? You’re biting your lower lip and a look of concentration, moreso than what driving requires, has crossed your face. You seem to be in a hurry.
I say nothing. What would I say? ‘Are you okay?’ Doesn’t that just make a person who’s not okay, more angry or frustrated? Besides, what help could I offer? I look to the road, concentrating on concentrating, concentrating on taking whatever is burdening your mind, concentrating on not being a bother.
I concentrate a lot.
We arrive at your place. Not that I know your place, but it is a four-story building, and you get out of the car, carefully, indicating for me to follow, walk up to the door, enter a code, and we’re in, walking — briskly, I might add — up the four flights of steps. You’re used to this exercise, but I’m not, even with my normal daily workout, this walk stretches muscles in different ways than I’m used to, and I’m a bit winded when we reach the top floor.
You open your door and wave me in.
I look around, quickly gathering in the details of your lived-in flat.
Your flat is bigger than my little ‘efficiency.’
“Nice nap?” you ask neutrally.
I blink, a bit surprised. “Yes, I suppose it was. I didn’t even realized I had nodded off until you came back in the car, so the time passed quickly.”
You nod, then grab my wrist.
“C’mon,” you command, and you pull me gently into your bedroom.
“Saga!” I exclaim as you shove my rump back onto the bed, “what’s going on? You’re acting like such a boy!”
You’re patience is gone. “Take your clothes off now, Melissa!” you hiss, and, at my blink, you add a desperate: “please!”
“Sag…” I begin, but then you silence me with a passionate kiss, using your whole body to push me down onto the bed, supine.
That’s when I notice something particular about you.
I gasp in shock, and then I’m laughing. “Saga!” I exclaim, “You are such a boy!”
My eyes crinkle with delight and deviousness, as I ask innocently, “Were you packing this whole time?”
My hand reaches down to touch your “‘man’root.”
You slap my hand away.
“God!” you gasp, “don’t touch it!”
I look at you, puzzled. “Why not?”
“‘Cause,” you explain tightly, “it’s a double-ended dildo! I’m like … so close to cumming right now!”
“Wow!” I exclaim, wide-eyed, but quite pleased, “you really are such a boy, Saga Louise, you know that?”
“You have no idea,” you say seriously. Then you take my head in your hands and ask imploringly, “May I please fuck you right now? You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this, so may I please just … God! … right now, Melissa?”
I sigh, reach up and bring your forehead to my lips, kissing you sweetly.
“The sacrifices I make!” I murmur sarcastically, then relent, seeing you don’t see the humor that I see in this. “Yes, you may,” I try to say equally seriously, but I can’t quite keep the smirk from painting my lips.
“Thank you,” you groan.
And there must be some record in how quickly a girl can get herself undressed without ripping her clothes, and I think you beat the record, Saga, really!
Your member? Well, it looks big. It’s not, but it looks that way to me, ’cause … well, I urfa escort bayan haven’t had other girls, you know … do that to me. If there’s toys involved, I’m the one on top. I’m the player, not the play-ee.
But something has inspired you. A fire, burning your belly, enflaming your eyes, and I all see of you is pure lust and need.
It’s actually a little scary for me.
“Melissa,” you said dead seriously, “I’m going to take you and make you mine now.”
And you crawl into the bed, on top of me, and I murmur shyly, “Gently, Saga, okay? Can you be gentle?”
And you say through gritted teeth, “I’ll try, okay, Melissa? Can you please …” you break of to gasp, “… guide me in?”
“Yes,” I saw quietly, looking up at you, and I take your big purple member, and I place it at my entrance, slightly wet already with the need I see in your eyes, and guide the head of it …
I close my eyes for a second. “It’s there,” I whisper.
I look up to your face and see intense concentration there. Your brow is clouded and you’re biting your lip.
“Okay, Melissa, I’ll … I’ll go slowly,” you say tightly, then add in one breath: “just tell me if it … if I’m hurting you, okay?”
I nod, then add, “Yes,” because I’m not quite sure you can see me from your eyes with their far-away look.
Then you lean into me, your breasts kissing and caressing mine, and your face burying itself into the pillow next to my head.
And then I feel it. You. Inch by inch, you carefully press yourself down and into me.
“Ah!” I gasp as I feel you going into me, then filling me. Completely.
“Am I hurting you?” you ask quickly.
“No,” I answer just ask quickly. “It’s … just give me a second, okay?”
I feel you nod, and freeze, your hips resting on my hips, your body draped over mine.
After a moment, I say, “Okay,” very quietly.
And you say, “Okay,” and “hold on.”
And you pull out a bit, and then you thrust forward, into me, again.
“Mmmfh!” I say.
And then you pull out a bit again, and thrust forward again.
And then you pick up the pace.
And I feel you, fucking me.
“I…I’m fucking you, Melissa!” you gasp.
And then I really feel it. And I wrap my arms around your shoulders, and I lift a leg, locking my right ankle around your leg, as you fuck me.
And I give myself over to you.
“Oh, God! Saga, fuck me!” I say, and I hear the want in my voice.
And that just turns you into an animal.
You start pumping, forcefully, powerfully, viciously, almost, and you begin grunting and panting with effort.
“Ah! Saga!” I sigh. “Oh!”
And it’s amazing, but I feel myself, in giving myself to you, propels you further, and in my submission to you, I feel so, so connected to you, my little fuck machine, and I also feel so powerful, too, in giving myself you.
“AH!” You shout. “Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh … fuck!”
And then I feel a warm spurt of something … inside me.
And I exclaim, “Saga, what’s that?”
“Me!” You shout. “Fuck! Me! Oh, God!”
And you stop humping me, like there’s no tomorrow, and you fall heavily on my chest, breathing in deep gasps.
And as you are resting on top of me, and as I gently rub your back with my arms, I wonder, did you stay ‘that’ was ‘me,’ or were you saying ‘fuck me.’
After a moment you come back to yourself and you ask solicitously, “Am I too heavy on you? Can you breathe?”
I smile and say quietly, “No, I’m fine,” then pause, “it’s been a long time since … well, you know … this is nice; I like it.”
“Me, too,” you say quietly, but did I hear a hint of sadness there?
We stay like this for a few minutes more … I could stay like this forever, but eventually you move, you pull yourself up, then out of me, and I feel myself tightening down on you, not wanting you to vacate me.
You feel it, too, through your … member. And you smile sweetly at me and kiss me on the chin, then pull out completely, … I’m ever so slightly embarrassed at the slight escort urfa sucking sound you make … or is that me? … when I’m emptied of you.
You sit up on the bed, resting your hand on my stomach tenderly. “Water?” you offer.
“Yes, please,” I smile up at you.
You disappear into the kitchen, returning with two glasses. I prop myself up, and you slide another pillow under me, supporting me, and hand me a glass.
We drink in silence, looking at each other, and then not, looking at our glasses.
I finish my glass.
“That was wonderful!” I say.
You look surprised. “You liked?”
I smile. “Very much so. I liked it very, very much.”
You smile back at me. “Good. I’m glad.”
Then you look away.
“Saga,” I ask concerned, “what is it?”
You won’t look at me. You unfasten the harness, reach between your legs and remove the dildo. You examine it critically. I see that your end of the dildo is a hollow tube.
“Saga,” I ask even more concerned, “what was in there?”
You smile at me. “Remember you said how … you know … you loved your baby?”
I looked at her guardedly.
“Well,” you pushed forward into the silence, “I’ve always wanted to … well, give you a baby to have, Melissa, and …”
I gasp, “Was that sperm from some donor?”
“Well, …” you say.
“Saga!” I say shocked, “did you just impregnate me? Is that what you had to do at the university, get some man’s sperm?”
“No,” you said shaking your head vehemently, “it wasn’t ‘some man’s sperm’!”
“Look,” you say quietly, “I said I wanted to give you a baby, and not from some man, but from me.”
I felt my eyebrows pull together. “What do you mean?”
“Remember there were some tests in Japan where they were able to produce an offspring from two female mice?”
“Yeah …” I said carefully. This created quite a stir when it happened, and there were more than a few lesbians who were more than interested … for themselves. But this interest soon faded away as the reports kept saying that it would be impossible for humans to do that for a long time … if ever.
“Well, they were repeating those experiments at university, and I volunteered to be a lab assistant,” you said, then waited.
“And …?” I added helpfully.
“Well, I substituted some of my own stem cells in one particular culture, and, well, they were ready today.”
“So…” I said slowly as the dawning realization hit me. “Those were your ‘sperm’ cells?”
You look at me and nod gravely, “Yes,” you say.
I let that sink in.
After a moment, I hand you the empty glass and say: “I think I need another glass of water.”
You take the glass and smile sadly at me, looking as if you don’t know whether to touch me in compassion or at all. You leave.
I watch your retreating back sadly.
You come back with the water for me. I take it and begin to drink again. I pat the side of the bed, and you sit gratefully at my side.
I wrap my arm around your waste and we both look outward toward the kitchen, toward quiet, toward nothing.
“You don’t have to kee-…” you begin but I shush you.
We keep looking into the quiet. I’m warmed by your body. I like the feel of you against me.
“Saga,” I whisper into the silence, “I’m scared.”
“Me, too,” you say.
We’re quiet again.
“What if the baby doesn’t make it to term?” I ask concerned.
You pause. “There’s a good chance that will be the case.”
I sigh. “Thank you, doctor,” I say sarcastically.
“But what if,” you pose, “the baby does make it to term?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Have you thought about what you want to do then?” you ask carefully.
“I can’t see that far ahead right now,” I say. I can’t see to the next hour sometimes, so seeing ahead nine months?
I look up to you. “Will you leave me?” I beg.
“No,” you say quietly.
“No matter what happens?”
“No,” you answer firmly.
“No matter what I decide?”
“No,” you say.
I snuggle more into you. “I’m tired,” I say, surprised at how tired I actually am. “May I sleep now?”
“Yes,” you say tenderly.
“Goodnight, Saga,” I say, closing my eyes.
“Godnatt, Älskling,” you echo.
I hum, then say, “I love you.”
You kiss the top of my head and whisper, “I love you, very, very much.”
And I sleep.