NB! The chapter features mature content
I have never talked to him like that before, and I have never quarrel with him at all. The couple always have arguments and adorable fights, but not with me. When we talk about our relationship – I'm a typical peacekeeper, an ambassador of goodwill. Moreover, we've never touched the "money" topic before: it has never been a problem for me... until now.
I deliberately do not turn on the light, fearing of dispelling the illusion of what is happening. There is no witch, of course. I sigh and lower my head, my chin is slightly trembling: schizophrenia, no doubt... I've heard that only antipsychotic medications could dull the symptoms...
"Gotcha!" the damn witch laughs and grabs me, pressing her cheek against mine like a child.
The jar slips out of my hands as if out of spite. I close my eyes, reluctant to see and hear what will happen next. But there is no disgusting sound. I slowly open one eye, then another, and gasp quietly: the "pet" is floating in the air a few centimeters from the floor. Casting a glance at the night visitor, I notice how she, with a slight grin, smoothly directs the glass jar to the low bedside table; her hand at this moment resembles ballerina's slender hand when she makes a beautiful movement when dancing: smooth and graceful. Another small, barely noticeable motion of her palm and the fungus is on the table.
"Can all witches do that?" I ask in a whisper.
"Nah, not all. Mom taught me. Well, she greatly got on my nerves then. She could be such an annoying "teacher"!"
"I can sympathize here." The image of parents immediately comes to me. What would they think of me now? About me and her?
The witch distracts me from my thoughts by touching her nose against my neck, smelling my hair, that is still soft after my evening shower.
"Let's enjoy the relish and hale of this thing later?" she mutters, slightly touching my neck with her lips.
And I give up. My body, of course, has already given up, but now it is the turn of my common sense to do the same. She is kissing me on my cheek in a very special way, even more intimate than in the club, lingering her lips on my skin much longer. I relax and give in. It feels I am having a bath with a perfect temperature of water after a very hard day. I, as some writers like describing inexperienced girls with "Mary Sue" potential, really do not know where to put my hands. I always thought that when I had a boyfriend, he would somehow guide me... When I accidentally catch my friends kissing passionately, I would invariably notice that Dasha, no matter how headstrong and independent she seems in everyday life, is very dependent and submissive when with her boyfriend... as if she surrendered to her partner, becoming a follower, not a leader. So, I believed that this was the way it should be... And now I just drop my arms submissively and let the witch drag me to the bed, being pressed by her body there.
Everything is like in a dream: she immediately lifts up my long old T-shirt and leads a path of kisses from my navel and down. She's covering my hips with kisses while I am gripping the blanket tightly with my fingers. I try not to make loud noises, since Danya is somewhere in the apartment, and he could hear me and show up at any moment. But stifled moans are still escaping when she is kissing me through the fabric of my panties. I close my eyes...
"May the devil fuck her!" the witch hisses and moves away from me. "They are calling for me again! I'm sorry," the girl says with an apologetic expression on her face.
It was as if I was being doused with cold water from a bucket, like a "spring" cat that is raging in the yard. She has no right to do this to me! She cannot simply leave me again as her toy, and then come back when she wants, hoping that the toy will still lie in the same place where it was left. "Once a little scatter-brain left poor Bunny in the rain..."*
"No, wait!" I demand loudly, not caring that anyone might hear us, trying to grab her by the shoulder to turn her towards me, but instead I pull her stretched T-shirt, exposing one of her breasts.
We both freeze. She looks at me with surprise, and I gaze at her with horror. Now she will definitely kill me.
"Forgive me, please, I didn't mean to," I babble, trying not to look at what is clearly seen now. I sit pulling my shirt down as far as possible. If my T-shirt was as solid as Hulk's pants, I would stretch it to my heels.
"Why aren't you looking?" she asks unexpectedly.
The girl grabs her collar with her hand and quickly bares her other breast. It seems that the steam is coming out of my ears now.
"Don't you like it too?" she pouts her lips capriciously. I can see tiny sparkles dancing in her eyes, but maybe it's just a faint reflection of a yellow street lamp.
"Yes, no, yes... I..." I shake my head, forcing myself to look down, "It was not my intention to put you in an awkward position..."
The witch laughs loudly again (he will definitely hear us!).
"Holy Hecate, you are so sweet!" she whispers, and takes my face in both hands, squeezing my cheeks and kissing my nose as if I was her new puppy...
"I want to go with you!" I say, as it seems to me, confidently and persistently, but my voice sounds funny, since my cheeks are still squeezed between her palms.
I think she is hesitating, weighing all the pros and cons, but then she nods, "Fine, but you have to obey me if you don't want to get into trouble."
A. Barto "Bunny" *
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MARBLE & SALT (Lesbian)
Fantasy✔️Fantasy-Romance || WomanxWoman || What will you do if your secret sexual fantasy, you were afraid to dream of, comes true? What if the curtain opens to you, leading to a new brave world, which was so close, but you could not touch it? Will you agr...
