desire

John Hoggard

She sat on the worn carpet in the middle of the old drawing room of her gran’s house.  Nothing had changed.  Every item furniture, every nick-knack, every ornament had a million untouched, happy memories.

 “Oh gran, how I miss you,” she whispered.

 The room seemed to wrap it’s arms around her and hug her back, just as it had since the day she was five and she’d moved into gran’s after the death of her parents.  The house was warm and comfortable and she loved it almost as much as her gran.  They’d had some fun, her and this house, played their games, her, ever curious, the house revealing its secrets a few at a time.  She would be happy here, her gran radiated from the very fabric of this house, so even though she was gone, in many respects she was right here too.

 “I can’t believe you’re gone,” she whispered, touching the last picture her gran had taken, just last Christmas.  The skin only just starting to wrinkle, the hair only just starting to show shades of winter white, and the eyes....

 ...well the eyes, they betrayed her ninety-nine years, and although they sparkled with such life that even in a flat, soulless photograph they still burned into the viewer, they were very, very old.  They had seen so very much.  Two world wars, two husbands, the loss of her only son and wife and seen to the upbringing of her only granddaughter.

 She put the photograph down and returned to the box she’d started to unpack.  In ninety-nine years her gran had certainly built up an amazing collection of “things”.  Some she’d seen before, many she had not.

 She pulled out a small ivory elephant.  It was smooth to the touch.  It had been rolled around many hands many times.

 She closed her eyes.

 Do you like the elephant Jessica?  Her gran had asked.  She had nodded vigorously, she remembered with a smile.  Well, when I’m gone, I shan’t be needing it, so would you like it?  More vigorous nodding.  So, here it was...

 She plunged her hands back into the box.  It was like a huge Christmas stocking, she was almost as excited too.  Her hands touched some tissue paper and she pulled it out of the box, scattering it around the room.  Beneath the paper was some cloth.  At its touch she looked into the box and to her surprise saw a sheet of beautiful ivory satin.  With a furrowed brow she tried to pull the cloth from the box only to discover it was wrapped around something.  Reaching further into the box she lifted out all of the cloth and the heavy object it surrounded.

 Carefully she pulled back the cloth fearing it would tear with age, but it didn’t, in fact the cloth looked new.  Nor was it just a simple satin sheet.  Holding it, Jessica stood up, pulling it free from whatever it was wrapped around, to reveal two things, a beautiful satin dress and a huge leather bound book.

 Two mysteries, thought Jessica.  Which one to try and solve first?  By its sheer beauty and feel the dress won.  She moved over to the large mirror that hung in the drawing room opposite the large, sunlit bay window.  She held the straps of the dress across her shoulders with one arm, while the other swirled the bottom of the dress around.  It was gorgeous, it shone in the sunlight, it felt so cool and beautifully smooth.  She wondered....

 ...no she couldn’t.  It was gran’s.  It wouldn’t be right.  Besides gran was smaller.  No, actually gran hadn’t shrunk like other old people seemed to, not that gran ever looked old.  They’d be about the same size...

 She couldn’t, could she?

 No...

 ...well, that’s why she was stood here in her bra and knickers with her jogging bottoms and T-shirt discarded on the floor, wasn’t it?  Why was she hesitating?  Was it because didn’t think she should wear the dress?  No, she’d already made that decision...

 ...with a wiggle of her hips her best M&S white cotton knickers fell around her ankles and she stepped out of them.  With a click and a shrug of shoulders her bra joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

 Feeling strangely conspicuous, naked, in her gran’s house Jessica quickly, but careful, slipped the dress over her head.  She gazed into the mirror, stunned.  The dress clung to every curve, curves Jessica didn’t even know she had.  Her “unsightly” (and some had told her, non-existent) rolls of fat were gone.  Her stomach flat.  She seemed taller and grander.  Her skin was aglow.  Her breasts (she always been quite proud of her breasts) were fuller and even more shapely.  Her nipples were hard beneath the clinging dress (was she aroused by the touch of the cloth or her own seemingly, staggering transformation?).

 She stepped closer to the mirror to touch the apparition that stared back from the silver surface.  The dress moved with her.  Her figure beneath the cloth seemed more lithe, more sultry and sensual than she’d ever thought possible.  The dress had become a beautiful second skin and in the ten seconds she’d worn it she’d fallen in love with it and never wanted to take it off.  Backlit by the sun coming through the bay window she looked, and felt, like an angel.

 With a sigh (and fearing a case of Narcissism) she stepped away from the mirror and returned to the box, its emptied contents and the book.  She worried about how she would sit down without creasing or stretching the dress but as she dropped slowly to the floor the dress eased its way around her frame and continued to hug her beautifully.

 She opened the book.  Slowly.  The heavy spine creaked and groaned but didn’t crack or break.  There was writing on the first page but the flowing ink script was so faded against the yellow aged paper that despite much squinting and staring Jessica could not read a word.

 She skipped a few pages until her eyes fell upon some bolder script that had survived the ravages of time and could still be read.

 “...Cometh unto me tonite and taketh me af before my Lord...”

 Jessica raised a brow and turned a few more pages.

 “...oh how thou maketh me fhudder with thy touch.  Vifit me thif nite I beg of thee...”

 More page turning.  Different handwriting.

 “...I cannot believe how I scream when you take me.  Come to me soon my sweet dream lover.”

 Half way through the book now.  Several changes of handwriting.  More praising of night time escapades with... well with somebody.

 “You came to me when I was all alone, beyond even despair.  You came to me and with your gentle touch and soothing words and made me a woman again.  With my eyes shut the very thought of you makes me weak and wet.  Until tonight.  Yours, Desire...”

 Gran?  It must be.  She’d know that handwriting anywhere, she’d seen it in enough birthday and Christmas cards.  Intrigued Jessica read on.

 “I yearn for you.  I wish the day gone so that the night will take me to you.  I wish for nothing but to feel you touch me,  lips against lips, skin against skin.  I wish to feel you part my legs and slide yourself deep inside of me.  When I am with you I forget that I am alone...”

 Oh gran.  So lonely, yet it would seem, so incredibly horny.

 Jessica flicked to the last entry in the book.

 “My dear sweet wonderful lover – I’m so old now, but still you come to me.  Still your lips caress my skin, still you suckle at my breast and make me feel young again.  How easily the years slip from my limbs as I wrap my legs tightly around you as you push yourself deep inside me.  How I relish the moment of your shuddering release as it brings me to a delightful conclusion too.  Thank you for a wonderful ninety-ninth birthday present.  Yours, forever filled with Desire.”

 Jessica shut the book and stared at the cover.

 Who are you?  What are you?

 She went back to her gran’s first entry and started to read...

 Only when she realised that her eyes were hurting from straining against the gloom of the fading light did she notice that she had read through the whole day.  Reluctantly she slipped her fingers out of her own hot, wet hole, away from her tingling clit.  She had read the last section on her knees with her legs spread with her fingers rubbing her clit with a vengeance she’d orgasmed even before she had finished the page.  She had done so many times that day already.  She could feel that her hand was sticky with her own juices.

 She stood and went to the bathroom to wash her hands and prepare for bed.  As she rolled the soap around her hands under the flow of warm water from the mixer tap she stared into the mirror and her satin dress wearing, flushed with desire, beautiful countenance stared back.  She knew what she was going to do when she got back into the room.

 She dried her hands quickly and went back to the drawing room.  Flicking on the light as she entered she went to the book still laid where she had left it.  However, the book was not turned to the last entry she thought she’d been reading it was turned to a new blank page.  She thought she best find a pen before her resolve to do this foolish act faded but she noticed that she had left one in the crease of the two pages.  Picking it up she wrote the following, with such speed and clarity that she amazed even herself.

 “I know not what you are or who you are, but I know you have made many sad and lonely people very happy.  You made my gran happy for fifty years or more it would seem.  Were you there because she did not re-marry a third time or are you the reason she did not re-marry?  I don’t know and at this moment I don’t care.  I want you to come to me tonight.  I want you to take me.  To do to me what in my heart I desire but at this moment fear to put into writing.”

 She closed the book and went quickly to the room she had used for all of her childhood here.  She climbed onto the soft, deep mattress of the old double bed and closed her eyes.  Did she sleep?  No.  She laid there and waited.  She listened to the house breathing, relaxing, creaking its bones.  Then...

 She was awake.  Or was she asleep?  She was naked, she knew that from the touch of the air on her skin.  She was being watched too.  Her nipples hardened in response.  She tried to open her eyes but realised that she had a scarf, a silk scarf, tied across her eyes.  Nor could she pull it free as she found that her arms had been tied at the wrists to the old black iron headboard.  Silk again.  Tight, not enough to hurt, but enough to stop her moving.  She waited...

 The first touch was so gentle that she thought it was just the movement of air across her skin, but, as it travelled down her arms it grew in strength and pressure.  Ever so slowly it moved down her forearms, and across her biceps to her shoulders.  She felt the movement travel up her neck on either side to gently touch the lobe of each ear, before the touch centred on her lips.

 At first the touch felt like the gentle brushing of fingers but now it felt like the touch of other lips.  She felt her teeth parted by a strong exploring tongue.  She could taste... sweetness, like honey.  The kiss was soft but powerful.  Deep, long...  She longed to be kissed in other places...  and the kiss was gone.

 She felt it return.  She felt her left nipple being taken gently, slowly into a strong mouth.  The mouth stayed there for an eternity, gently sucking, rolling the nipple around with a tongue.  A tiny hint of sharp teeth made her gasp with surprised delight.

 Then she felt her right breast being caressed, the whole breast being gently rolled and squeezed, the nipple rolled between thumb and forefinger, tugged and gently squeezed and twisted.  She felt her whole body begin to respond the this double onslaught on her sensitive nipples and she knew that she was now very wet between her legs.

 The kissing stopped.  It became a gentle, wet, slow moving tongue.  It moved away from her nipple (which instantly yearned for more) and moved down underneath her breast where the skin tingled after the tongue had run over it.

 The tongue slipped ever downward.  It traced its way down her ribs and circled around  where lower ribcage gives way to flat, soft abdomen.  It headed towards her navel, tiny, nibbling kisses joining the tongue as it travelled downwards and inwards.

 It spent an age circling her navel before finally began lapping into it, tongue exploring it, tickling it, make her insides roll with delight.  Then it was gone...

 She felt it return on the sole of her left foot.  She normally would have jumped but it was so beautifully soft that she did not.  It passed over the silk cord that she realised for the first time also bound her legs to the bed.  It slipped slowly upwards, pausing to nibble at the back of her knee and the soft fold of skin that made her shiver when it was touched or stroked.

 Up it travelled and when it reached half way up the inside of her thigh she began to gasp with anticipation.  Up the tongue and delicate skin nipping kisses went, but not to where she hoped, no, desired, longed for them to finish.  They traced up and out.  They kissed around the whole of her upper pelvis before finally, delightfully, wonderfully, stomach twirlingly she felt the first touch of her lips being parted and a exploring tongue enter her hot, wet hole.

 Sensations coursed through her body that she’d never experienced before.  When the tongue started dabbing and licking her clit.  Long, luxurious licks like those of small children and ice creams would be she felt her whole body tremble.  When those licks, and there were many, many of them, turned into ever so gentle sucking, she thought she would explode.  Then, when sucking became, gentle, teeth gripped squeezes, she could hold on no more.  Her body shuddered and shuddered,  muscles clenched and relaxed and when she realised a tongue had slipped inside her hole to feast on the juices she came again with a jolt that she thought would break her bones or stop her heart.

 She was on her knees, face down in the pillow, but this could not be because she was still tied and the bonds had not been loosened, yet here she was.  She felt two hands trace their way speedily down either side of her spine, then, as one cupped her buttocks and squeezed the other slipped around to her front, etched a nail into the skin of her stomach before it circled a breast and cupped it, squeezing it as it did so.

 She felt her knees being slid further apart, so that she could feel the tension in her backside and she knew how easily she could be accessed from behind.  She felt the head part her lips.  She gasped, the sound was deafening in her ears.  It hovered there for an eternity.  Strong hands held her waist, she could not pull away or push back.  Such a delightful torture.

 Slowly a thick, long shaft slid its way inside of her.  Deeper and deeper until she thought she would burst, but still it did not stop.  She felt the gentle soft pressure of a sack against her clit and squirmed with delight.  Out, as slowly as it had gone in, she could feel every vein, the ridge around the glans as it rested at her entrance.

 Speared.  So deep and fast that she shuddered.  And out.  Right to the tip, right to her entrance, she felt her hole clench, begging for more.  She got it.  Slow, deep, powerful.  Quick and shallow.  She came again and again.  Her juices poured out of her and still the thrusting continued.  It built to a crescendo that arched her back and when her release was so powerful she thought she would pass out then she felt another release, deep inside her.  An eruption that seemed to flood every fibre of her being and then she did, she must have passed out...

 She woke with a start,  bright morning light had her blinking in surprise.  Lord, what a dream.  But, no the instant she had the thought she dismissed it.  No dream was that real.  No dream left her with a pang of fear that it would never happen again, left her cursing the arrival of the sun.  She hugged herself and smiled, on the air she caught the scent of... him... raw and vibrant, pure, pure sex.

 Picking up the white satin dress, but without putting it on, she slipped downstairs to the book and opened it up.  She stared down at the blank page and he stared back from the sheet.  With a smile she began to write and await the coming of another night...