Fairy Princess

It is the middle of the stillest Texas night. The stars are bright. The enormously full November moon is high in the sky, and outside looks like black-shadowed silver painted day. In a small bedroom in a small apartment, I lie next to a sleeping woman. My mind is racing, churning, thinking, and fighting with my heart. I care for Kaye. She is my lady and we have been together a while, but we are really a mistake, an accident of passion and circumstance. I wouldn't hurt her for the world, but what we have is fading inevitably, like leaves on an oak in autumn, before the north winds arrive.

In the other bedroom of this small cool apartment is another sleeping woman, Kaye's roommate. I have known her for a long time. Mary was my friend before Kaye. Mary was my running buddy, debate partner, workout opponent and confidante. Mary would spend hours with me in the fencing salle, making me riposte and counter, and counter again, honing my blade-work while I prepared for a tournament, and then would split the gas to get there, and encourage me always. Mary, who one night became my lover and on another told me she loved me, when we were both too tired and too drunk to lie. I lacked the courage to believe her words, and embarrassed by them, I denied anything but our friendship. One night soon after, she introduced me to her friend Kaye, and I seized her like a drowning man might a floating life ring. Kaye was proof to the world, and to me most of all, that I did not want Mary.

The days wear into weeks and months and finally years. Mary and I still run together, and spar together. Kaye and sometimes I double-date with her and her guy of the week. These men never seem to last long. I am always surprised-can't they see just how wonderful she is? She is sweet and loving, sexy and smart, strong and athletic, the perfect woman. How can they be so blind? What man could be so stupid as to walk away from that?

Finally, I know the truth. I have lied to myself and to the world. I never let on, I cannot. Mary and I are just friends, as we have been, forever, but my heart is on fire for her. I would give my left arm to turn back the clock, and have her lying next to me, tonight, tomorrow night, the next night and the next. I am on fire for her-her touch, her kisses, her love, body and soul. I lie there next to her best friend, next to my lady. I am sweating in the cool house, heated by my passions, made miserable by my own foolishness and pride.

After an age of turmoil, an eon of doubt, I sit up, slowly. Carefully, my feet find the floor, and I ease out of bed, very, very quietly. I know that Kaye is hard sleeper. I have no idea what I am doing, but I cannot believe that even now, I am doing this, whatever it is. Standing beside our bed, I look at the sleeping woman. Just enough of the silver light seeps through the partially closed blinds that I can see her rounded cheek, the familiar pout on her lips, the unruly brown hair. I look and ponder for a long moment, and then turn away.

I slowly shuffle across the room to the open door, and then out into the hall. I slide my feet carefully through the carpet, crossing the hallway near the stair joist so there is no creak from the floor.

I can scarcely breathe. I keep moving, in dread of any noise, and then I am at the door of Mary's room. I gaze in. The window blinds are open, and moonlight spills into the room. Her short-cut hair, tousled and free, the color of fairy gold, glints on the pillow. I enter the room and then stop and just stare at her. Her face is so very familiar. The curve of her cheek and the bow of her lips are known to me, intimately. I have kissed her neck, and nuzzled her ears, and caressed her cheek. I have seen her laugh and cry and smile and sing. I have held her in the throes of passion and in the depths of despair. Here and now, though, she is so peaceful, and her beauty amazes me. She stirs a bit in her sleep. I notice that the sheet covers her to her neck, but her breasts are visible under the fabric, moving gently as she breathes. What am I doing here?

Slowly, slowly, I move until I stand right next to her at the head of her bed. I watch her sleep for a long time, an age. I can hear the downstairs clock tick. Once it chimes, and I jump. I am feeling foolish and impassioned and a bit scared, so many conflicting emotions run through my head. I am on fire for her, though, and so I remain, transfixed.

I can feel my cock aching and throbbing. It is engorged with my desire for her. I can feel precum dripping down, soaking the crotch of my shorts. The cool dampness only emphasizes my heat. As I stand there, I pull aside the leg of my shorts, exposing my hardness to the cool air and the silver moonlight. I stare at her as she sleeps.

I don’t know what I'm going to do. My heart and my flesh are both afire. Will I just look a bit longer and leave?

Standing right in front of her sleeping face, I lean forward just a bit, with my cock in my hand. I cannot stand it, she is so close! I hold my breath, and gently touch her cheek with the tip, painting a little streak of my sticky wetness on her soft skin.

At my touch, Mary's eyes open, she gasps, and then looks at my face. I can see the blue in her eyes. Our eyes meet for a very long moment. Then her eyes move to my cock. Turning her head to the side, she opens her mouth. I can see her tongue lick her lips, wetting them slightly. She props herself on one elbow, and the hand reaches up to grasp my shaft. Her other hand reaches around me and pulls me closer, as she takes my whole length slowly into her mouth, and starts to suck. As she moves, the sheet slips down, and exposes one breast. The nipple is full and ripe, and her little breast is perfect, round, beautiful. I want it. I reach for it, to touch it, to pleasure her.

She stops for a moment, looks up and smiles at me, and whispers: "No! I want to love you with no distractions".

Her mouth descends again. She knows me so well, perhaps too well. She swirls her tongue around my hardness, from the tip to the base. All the while her tongue is stroking me, tickling me, caressing me; her hand slowly strokes me as well. Her other hand clutches me to her from behind. I can feel her desire for me in every touch, every movement. Once she lets out a quiet moan, and then another, again very quietly.

I really hadn't expected this, a companion in my foolishness, in my desires. I had hoped, had feared, she was over me, and now I knew the answer. My knees are suddenly weak, from the pleasure she is giving me, from my longing for her, with my full face encounter with a new reality. I grab at her headboard to avoid falling down, onto her bed, and taking the desperately needed rest of her as mine. My heart is hers.

Mary keeps sucking and holding, loving and possessing me. It seems that my whole being is concentrated in her mouth. When she senses I am very close, she stops, and takes me from her lips. She looks up at me in the moonlight, her hair almost glows.

She whispers: "Please darling, please lover-give me your come!"

Then she descends on me again, sucking and caressing, knowingly, lovingly, even possessively. She rolls her tongue over my flesh, and I can feel her need for me. I fight it, willing myself not to cross that threshold even though I have come so far, and then, I relent, release, fall into her, my Mary. I literally explode, thrusting into her mouth, while she drinks me. She swallows and seeks more and I give it to her, and she drinks again. She keeps on licking and sucking and tonguing me until I cannot stand the sensation. My cock is too sensitive, but even so, I cannot will myself to move. I don’t want to break this physical connection, not tonight, not ever.

Finally, she kisses my cock one last time, and releases it. Then she leans forward and kisses my belly, and, one at a time, the palms of my hands. She lays her head back down on the pillow in the silver moonlight. She is a fairy princess who turns her beautiful face toward me, her captive heart, and smiles.

As I watch her, she stretches, under the covers, like a cat. We look at each other, as the seconds pass. How long we gaze at each other, I cannot say. The secret is out.

Finally she whispers to me: "I knew you would come to me tonight. Now go back to bed, lover. "

All I can say is: "Sweet Mary, how I have missed you."

A truer statement has never been made.

She shushes me, and blows me a kiss. Reality returns. I slowly leave, the way I entered. I cannot return to Kaye’s bed, not now, not yet. I can't bear to go back to the suffocation and deadness and the darkness, so I turn down the hall, and quietly descend the stairs. Dazed, I enter the kitchen and discover I am drenched with sweat and parched by thirst. I search the icebox, and find a cold Shiner beer.

Bottle in hand, I sit alone in the darkened living room. I drink and think of her, my best friend, my lover, the possessor of my heart. I think of her, lying there, a fairy princess with her golden hair glowing in the moonlight.