The early morning fog clears to reveal a small grove long forgotten. A place where the air is sweet as honey and caresses those lucky enough to stumble upon it with a gentle breeze. Where the cobblestone paths have been worn by time but still, they lead to a manor hidden in the secret grove. Upon the manor’s walls, vines grow tall and cover most everything but the large stained glass windows.
Shadows and movement can be seen from the courtyard. Warm light no doubt made by lit hearths and candles create such a warming glow, beaconing, and inviting… Laughter and other pleasurable sounds can be heard spilling out of the cracked windows. More so, it can be heard coming from the front door that has been left wide open. Is this an invitation?
Under a covered porch that wrapped around the building, the open door is large with intricate designs carved into burgundy stained wood. The handle, the hinges, and even the small viewing window are all glittering gold, polished to perfection and shimmering even as the sweet fog dims any bits of sunlight.
“Say it. Mmm, I want to hear my name pour from your lips. Abair m'ainm”
The voice is accented and sounds almost as if it’s ethereal.
“Ahhhh, yes. AGAIN! Make meeeahhhhhh”
There is no mistaking the moans that now filled the manor. They were passionate, filled with lust, with need, and coming from a woman’s lips. More so, they were coming from up the winding stairs just past the entrance of the manor. An overwhelming feeling of being pulled inward is stemming from the second floor, begging for something.
Stepping over the threshold, the manor is warm, whimsically decorated, and not a single space was empty. The walls were painted in warm jeweled tones, every nook filled with some sort of interesting item. There is a never ending number of shelves filled with books, pictures, and jars of every size filled with anything and everything. The smell of warm bread made its way through the cozy space adding to the feeling of being welcomed.
“Don’t keep me waiting, A stór”
Her voice was breathy but filled with an authority that demanded satisfaction. It called from an open set of french doors on the second story landing. This had to be an invitation and there was not a moment to consider otherwise. The winding stairs are carpeted and make every ascending step muffled, the banisters are the same burgundy stained wood and the carvings perfectly match the previously wide open front door.
“You’re finally here, A stór. My treasure. Why are you just standing there? Don’t you want what is yours?”
The image laid beyond the open doors is decadent. The room is littered with blankets, pillows, and tapestries covering every wall. At the center of the great room, a large fireplace is lit and provides the only light source behind the focus of this image; a large golden throne bejeweled with emeralds the size of cherries. And there, in nothing but a green silken robe that was open and barely hanging from elbows, she sat with her legs spread and lips smirking.
“Ahh, Ahh, Ahh, You certainly took your time“
Her chest rose and fell and her breathing rapidly increased in speed. A mane of red curls waterfall from the woman’s head, long and wild and falling well past her shoulders. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown out with lust as she eyes the man in front of her, as her hands roam every curve of her body. Her pale skin sparkled with a golden shimmer, but still grew pink under her own caress.
Pillowy lips, stained red, remain open as her moans escape. Her tongue licks along the edge of her bottom lip before its bitten down on in an attempt to stifle the increasing volume of her moans. Her eyes rolling back as pleasure surges through her body.
Her left hand now grips tightly onto her large breast, twisting and pulling at the pebbled nipple begging for attention, massaging the heaving mound of flesh causing it to swell to an even larger state. The other hangs lonely and swollen, the pink nipple perked and begging for an ounce of the attention the other receives.
“Look what you’ve done to me… mmmm ahhhhh… look how you make me.”
Her other hand has been busy working its way down her body. Down the curves of her breasts and soft belly, her fingers drag across the inside of thick thighs, finally resting between her spread legs, each anchored on the armrests of the golden throne. Glistening in the light of the fire, her fingers sliding easily between the slick lips of her pussy. As her finger finds the bud of delicate nerves, her pleasure drips down and gathers on the seat of the throne.
“Don’t just stand there, ahhh” Her fingers plunge into herself as deeply as she can.
“You know what you have to do to get what you want.” In and out, in and out, her fingers move gently causing the drips to become more like a stream of pleasure pouring from her.
“All you have to do is say my name, Damon” Her hips buckle, she is on the verge of climax, she is so close so…
**RING RING RING RING RING**
The alarm clock is ringing and reality comes crashing down as Damon wakes up from the same dream that’s been haunting him since the start of the new year. The same hidden manor, the same wild hair, the same large breasts…. But never has she called to him personally before. Never has she said his name…
