****** Silent Partner by Hale ******
===============================================================================

Silent Partner

Dark. Damp. I am alone. What is that sound; at the stairs...it must be her.
No...can't be...no it is her.. yah... her mother. What did she say? Oh, I
remember, she would be gone for...damn, what did she say? Her parents maybe, no
the seminar...yes that's it ...Cincinnati. Two weeks, consulting, big six, shit
why does she need to learn that...new computer crap. There it is again...oh she
is coming...will she speak today? The door is cracked but not open. The
humidity has just increased in the room, heat, it's getting warm...she is near.
I remain at rest...I will not speak...no, it must continue...but she is
young...I must acquiesce for I am the older, she is weak.

I hear the globe, she is at the globe...it is spinning. She is bored. I cannot
hear her breathing...maybe if listen I can hear her. She is crying, I must ask
her...no...hold on. My foot has fallen asleep, it is propped on the desk, I am
leaned back in my chair. The light from the hall sconce, I just open my eyes
and can sense the light. The door is still cracked, the globe is still
spinning. I can make out the room, the walls, I see her-as if a shadow. She has
lain on the sofa against the window, the study is now silent, globe has
stopped.

I quietly move to the sofa not knowing what exactly my intentions are. Maybe I
should take her to her room. Yes that's it, to her room. I lift her off the
sofa, she is not asleep, but says nothing. She is trying to communicate with
me. I cannot see her though. Now we are in the hall, the candle is ablaze. I
look into her tired eyes. She is thinking of the last two days. We have not
spoken. Neither of us has any questions that have to be asked. We create our
own answers, we are content with being. The communication seems real, even more
real than our native tongue. A deeper breadth of understanding. This started
before she was born.

While in the womb I would try to communicate. I knew that if we could develop
that sense of connection we would be free. It could just as well be another
language. Only it had to be one not yet in existence. Her mother and I had a
certain connection as well, but she was too engrossed in the organic. She could
not separate, a part of her was with society...she could only be defined in
relation to society...maybe no one could be defined otherwise...perhaps I was
deluding myself. But a natural inorganic communication seemed possible to me.
To me we had only gravity and nutrients as our nemesis. Arian, my little star
on this material dream, and me had come as close to inaudible communication as
possible, perhaps.

In the stands, if I looked out at her and she at me we both understood. She
knew what I was saying. And tonight was no different. As we neared the end of
the hall, still in the depths of eye and body contact, her room drew close. I
did not look at the surface of her eyes, but more toward the center of her
soul. Suddenly, I am aware that I have crossed some imaginary line. Was it the
last rampart of civility? I thought I was free, no this cannot be. I feel pain,
Arian has dropped one leg...I am in a stooped position just at the threshold of
her room, she still has her arm encircling my neck.

I do not raise up, I am frozen in time and space...my thoughts seem free
but...lingering...lingering...then I realize that I cannot make the move.
Another energy, a body, Arian, must move me. I would allow her to steer me,
thoughts, body, everything. She seizes my mouth with the hand near my face.
Gently, so gently, she sinks two fingers in my mouth and pulls in such a way
that my face is forced away from her. Then she pulls my head, via the arm
around my neck, to her face. She kisses me on the mouth, her fingers are still
there but add some sense of externality, it feels so different. What is she
trying to convey?

I enclose my mouth, as best I can around the fingers of my Arian. We begin to
lean toward the bed. She is pulling me, and at the same time bringing up my
shirt, it is a white button down, but with the top three buttons lose, she is
able to get it around my neck. I sink to one knee, she is leaned against the
bed, her leg finds its way to my shoulder. Her nightshirt has fallen away, the
light is dim but I see her panties. My face is pulled down to her hips as she
tightens the leg around my back and shoulder. The shirt is stretched then
pulled away from my face, Arian tosses it to the floor. The light hair upon my
chest is standing out as if on a cold winter night, but I have a small bit of
perspiration on my forehead. Arian brings my head to her bellybutton, sensing
the moisture her hands immediately move there and whisk the moisture all over
her chest. In a near rage she has pulled the nightshirt over her head, it falls
gently off the bed--as in slow motion. In my mind, and hers, there is a strong
sound, a deafening roar of noise, I would say music but I can't waste time
listening, another person could hear a pin drop in the room.

She pushes at the sides of my face, moving up to my hair, my black hair is
somewhat long and acts as an excellent moisture sink, as she discovers this,
again, she rubs the moisture about her body, continuing down to her panty clad
mound, slowly she presses her left hand down to the folds of her mound, gently
allowing the panties to enter her. The other hand, while she rolls to the left,
is brought under her pelvis and allowed to trace the area near her anus.

I do not move, but revel in the sight cast before me. My manhood is a gallant
soldier. I ease up, so as not to have her leg fall, and cast my belt with one
hand, the trousers drop with alacrity. My boxers are moist and my penis is
itching. I grab my penis through the material and squeeze until the itching
subsides. Quickly, I snap back to the feast before my eyes and see that Arian
is pulling the four fingers from her pussy, the cotton material of her panties
remains, and is moving her hand very fast around her whole sexually charged
area. Her smallish breasts are moving about, the nipples appear painfully hard.

I begin to rage with sexual passion, pulling her up by the hips I begin
licking, everything, completely out of control. At thirteen, she is strong and
I feel that she is nearly as powerful as I am. She is bucking wildly, pulling
my head to her pussy, grabbing at her tits. She takes a pillow and bits into
it, she is making a sort of moan or growl, covered in sweat. I let her fall
back to the bed. As she lies on her back her legs immediately open, her butt is
near the side of the bed. I pull my penis out through the hole in my boxers,
slowly I guide the head to the panty covered slit before me. The cotton panties
are soaked with moisture, my penis easily enters with the cotton encasing my
penis. Lust takes over and I begin pumping wildly, the itching, perhaps brought
on by the friction returns, a burning feeling takes hold of me, sort of a
feeling of nearing urination. Suddenly, the panties yield, perhaps to one side
or the other, and my penis is cast into the depths of her abyss. One pump later
and the whole experience is brought to a goose-bumped shuddering end. I fall on
her and we embrace. She takes a deep breath and I feel the most exotic feeling
imaginable her pussy contracts....

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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