The Dawn of Darkness (Part 8)

I grabbed my shirt and started to slip it back over my head, covering my torso and attempting to avoid the impending questions. She sat back on her heels and cast her gaze downward. Slowly she reached down and removed the vegetables. Her hands folded across the tops of her legs. I paced the floor, trying to decide what to do next. I toyed with leaving, but there was a desire still gnawing at my belly. There were still things that I longed to do to her. I wasn't quite prepared to let this opportunity pass.

She glanced up at me again tentatively. I sank down onto the couch, feeling somewhat defeated.

"The.... scars?" She started slowly, the words hanging in the air. "Um.... where... uh.... what...."

"I don't know," I replied.

Her eyes searched my face for a fuller explanation. "You don't know?"

"No. I don't know."

"You don't know if you want to tell me?"

"No. I just don't know."

She took a deep breath and considered her words carefully. "You can trust me, you know. Well, I don't know if you know that, but...."

"I said I DON'T KNOW!" I stood up, spitting the phrase out at her. She winced at the ferocity of my tone. "I don't know where they came from! I don't know how I got them!!"

Confusion clouded her features. "You don't know how you got them?"

"NO!" I growled. "I.... I don't remember."

This statement haunted me the most. There were times when I was in high school, showering after P.E. and the looks would come. The eyebrows would be raised and the questions would hang in the air, yet remain unspoken. I always hurried to dress and sped out of the locker room as quickly as was possible. I didn't want to confront having to answer. The truth was, I really DIDN'T remember where they came from. There was a huge chunk of my memory missing, and I didn't care to go digging around trying to figure out what was lurking in the blackened depths.

She stood up and approached me slowly. I was partially exposed, having yet to pull my pants back on. My shirt hung limply from my body. She came up very close to me and stood there, not moving and not meeting my eyes. Finally her hand reached out, stopping halfway on its route to my shirttail. She looked up and I saw deep into those blue eyes of hers. They begged me wordlessly. My chin fell to my chest and I let out deep sigh.

She lifted my shirt and exposed my belly. For a minute she just looked, scrutinizing the markings. Then her other hand reached forward and began to lift my shirt over my head. I obliged, raising my arms and allowing her to remove it from me completely. She dropped it to the floor, never looking away from my chest and stomach. The pointer finger on her right hand drifted forward and traced one of the medium sized scars, one marked jaggedly over my belly button. Her touch was cool against my skin. I closed my eyes and pretended that she was gracing me with a lover's touch and nothing more.

She placed both of her hands on me and ran her fingers over the markings, spreading out her fingers and flattening her palms against my skin. Soon there wasn't an inch of me that she hadn't touched. I kept my eyes closed and waited, holding my breath. I felt as her hands ran up my pecs and over my shoulders, not stopping until they were cradling my face. It was then that I became aware of the hot tears pouring down my cheeks.

I opened my eyes and looked down at her. Her face was quiet with understanding. There was no look of pity. No hint of horror. Just her smooth skin, those delightful freckles and her ever adoring eyes. Her thumbs caressed my cheeks, wiping away the tears. I leaned down and kissed her forehead, then her nose, and finally placed my lips gingerly on hers. She ran her hands to the back of my head and pulled me down towards her. I allowed my arms to encircle her and hugged her tight to my body. She tasted like compassion. I drank her in.

We kissed for a seemingly endless amount of time before I realized that we were both coated in the cooking oil that I had poured over her chest. I broke from our liplock and took her by the hand, guiding her to the bathroom. I ran a hot shower and we both stepped in, allowing the water to rain down over us. We alternated soaping each other up, slowing wiping away the oil and the confusion of the prior situation. We kissed under the hot water, letting it stream down our faces. We became cleaner in more ways than one.

There was only a twin bed in the guest room, so we decided to sleep in the homeowners' king instead. I picked her up and carried her from the bathroom to the bedroom, laying her gently on the mattress. I laid next to her and cradled her body in my arms. She nuzzled against my throat. We fell asleep, entangled.

I awoke several hours later, drenched in sweat. I glanced down and saw her sleeping perfectly still, her eyelashes fluttering on the tops of her cheeks. I rose from the bed and walked down into the kitchen, shaking with every step. I ran the tap and filled a glass with water, then gulped it down hard. I had to grip the sink to keep from buckling under my weakened knees. My head fell forward and my eyes closed for just a second, the images instantly returning.

Hands over my mouth, stifling my breathing, smothering my screams. Being thrown into darkness, surrounded by the overpowering stench of human waste. Not being able to stand, having to crouch on all fours. Someone opening a hatch, jabbing at me with a stick, cutting through my skin, bringing blood in a steady flow. The stinging pain. Suddenly being drenched in wet warmth, the acrid smell of urine accosting my nostrils. The hatch slamming shut. Darkness choking me again. Weeping tears of fear, hot and bitter.

I'd woken up at that point and was now here. I'd never experienced a dream like this before, not that I could manage to recall. What door had been unlocked? Did I even want to know? And could I manage to get it shut again?

I filled another glass with water and drank it down. My stability was beginning to return to me. I made my way back down the hallway to the bedroom. She stirred slightly as I laid back down, then flipped over and nestled up against me. Her hand lazily reached down and cupped my balls. Her nose was tucked behind my ear and I could feel her breath disturb the fine hairs on my neck. She gently fondled me and my manhood began to respond. There were no dreams in existence that could stop the biological function of that.

As she leaned in closer, the inner length of her arm grazed the largest of my scars, the eight inch long wicked protrusion. I flinched and withdrew from her. She startled and awoke faster than she'd intended. Her eyes questioned me. I grabbed her hand and removed it from my crotch. I shook my head sternly at her. I rolled her over onto her stomach then stretched my body out over hers.

Keeping her legs as closed as possible, I managed to cram my dick between them and glide into her pussy. I opened my legs and planted my knees on the outside of her thighs, wedging them together. I pushed her face into the pillow with both of my hands, pressing on the back of her head. My body bounded up and down on hers and I relished the tightness of this position. I was so into the moment that it wasn't until I was unloading into her that I caught sight of her arms flailing, her hands frantically attempting to grab at me, any part of me.

I lifted my hands from her head and she turned it rapidly, heaving for air. She wrenched her body over, flipping me off of her. She was taking huge gulps of air and clutching at her throat. I simply sat and watched in bewilderment.

"Too..... much...." she gasped. "Too.... hard..... couldn't...... breathe....." She was trying to push herself up on her elbows, into a sitting position. I tilted my head and enjoyed the sight of her breasts bobbing up and down on her chest, her nipples jiggling as if a piece of fruit floating in Jell-O. She blinked hard at me. "Did you hear me?" she was finally reclaiming her voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, I heard you."

"Please don't do that again," she stated, then looked hard at me, willing me to meet her gaze.

I let my eyes drift up from her breasts to her face. "OK," I slowly drawled, then reached out and tweaked her left nipple hard. "OK." I repeated for effect. She raised an eyebrow at me, suspicion clouding her face. I leaned down and kissed her softly. After a couple of seconds, she stopped resisting and returned the kiss.

"It'll be OK," I spoke softly against her mouth. "You'll be fine. You can trust me. You'll be just fine. I promise that won't happen again." She wrapped her arms around the back of my neck and pulled me into her.

The scar on my right side began to itch.