Fever Dream

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Medical fever combines explosively with the erotic variety.
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I toss and turn restlessly, unable to find comfort within the clammy embrace of my rumpled and sweat soaked bedding. Neither fully awake nor totally lost in sleep, my vision of the room around me glimpsed through half open eyes is strange; distorted; almost nightmarish in the alien view of what should be familiar and welcoming everyday objects that I have cherished for many years now. Fragments of events drift in and out of my disoriented memory unbidden, like dislocated scenes that might or might not be real. A misty figure bending close, the unexpected chill of something metal resting fleetingly upon the bared skin of my chest. Muffled voices, only half heard as if from some great distance. Random words clutched at like straws, but only partly comprehended: "fever", "keep her comfortable", "plenty of fluid", "nothing to worry about", "check back in a day or two". All meaningless. Nothing of concern to me.

Then, for what might be a timeless time, the world grows pitch black and I find myself surrendering to the respite of oblivion. No sounds. No sight. No sensation. Then the rain begins to fall.

It begins as the lightest of droplets gently impacting upon the hot and furrowed skin of my brow. But it's enough to summon me back from the silent darkness of the void through which I've been traveling. My eyes still closed against the world outside of myself, I finally begin to realize that the rain isn't really rain at all. The realization blossoms when I detect the sodden coarseness of the cloth against my skin as it gingerly journeys across my brow, down to my cheek and then pauses cool and comfortingly at my neck, as if unsure whether or not its wandering should continue any further.

It's then that once more I almost lose myself again to the jealous darkness. But at the final moment the darkness is frustrated by my fragmented attention being drawn to the sudden, dimly perceived, feeling of exposure as the encumbering, dampness of the blankets that had been covering me seemingly cease to exist. My addled consciousness is still attempting to come to terms with the puzzle when the awkward, hesitant motion of my nightgown being lifted from its mantle over my limp and weakened body merely adds to my confusion. I decide to open my eyes, try and make sense of why and by who I've been reduced to total nakedness. But then the pleasure hits my unprepared body like a speeding truck, banishing all thoughts of answers from my sleepwalking mind.

At first I fool myself into believing that it's merely the comforting dampness of the light touch of the wet cloth encircling my left breast, stimulating and exciting me despite myself. But that notion is dispelled by the sheer unadulterated erotic frisson generated within me as the urgent suction generated by the warm and softly breathing mouth clamped to my breast steadily draws my now erect and unresisting nipple into its waiting depths. Electrified, the quietest of gasps escapes my dry and slightly parted lips as my trembling, fever wreaked body, arches slightly in automatic response to the deftly nibbling teeth and casually flicking tongue feasting uninvited - but not unwelcome - upon my now heaving tit. I could be content to remain this way for eternity, savoring the delight of being feasted on; but eternity is only relative, and delight can be expanded into ecstasy given the right circumstances. These were the right circumstances.

Eyes still closed against the sight of my unknown pleasure-giver, and too weak to do more than lie quietly and eagerly accept the experience, my skin tingles with a lust fueled static charge as the unseen lips and tongue depart from my breast and begin a light, saliva trailed trek down my yielding, appreciative body. Although weak and unsure of the reality of what's happening to me, nevertheless I manage to retain enough intelligence to anticipate their intended destination. So I breathlessly command my legs to part to their fullest extent, allowing unrestricted access to my increasingly moist and now fully exposed pussy.

"Fuck me," I hear a harsh, grating and unfamiliar voice whisper softly. "Do it now, for god's sake...it's ready for you." With more than a little surprise, I realize that the voice belongs to me.

It's then that words fail me utterly as my swollen clit and open pussy succumb to the unrestrained, near frenzied, combined onslaught of hungrily sucking lips, nipping, lightly biting teeth, flickeringly darting tongue and probing, plunging fingers. More than eager and partly able to escalate the experience, my clumsy fingers pull and pinch at my tender nipples and roughly kneed my tits while my hips bucks wildly up in metronomic time to my still unseen lover's predatory ministrations.

"Fuck Me! Fuck Me! OH GOD! YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!" The unnaturally strange voice that belongs to me, but isn't really mine, screams repeatedly with each and every new sensory overload that accompanies the willingly invited violation of my now relentlessly contracting pussy.

Then, reacting instinctively to the sudden unanticipated insertion of an n arrow straight finger deep into my unprepared ass, the already weakened dam breaks. The final, animalistic convulsion of my liquid spurting climax snaps the final vestiges of my meager strength. And with one last satisfied murmur of contentment, I open my mental arms and allow myself to be dragged unresisting - but now weakly contented - back into the waiting embrace of the ever waiting darkness.

****

"How is she, honey?" He asked with tired concern as he entered blind drawn, late afternoon shadow dappled bedroom.

"Just fine, dad," The pretty, slender bodied, eighteen year-old answered with a brightly reassuring smile in his direction. "Doc Martinez called by earlier and said that the fever had broken. She'll be pretty much out of it for a couple more days yet, but at she's going to be just fine."

"Thank god," Her father with evident relief, before examining her closely with the slightest furrow of concern. "You look kind’ a flushed, sweetheart. You sure you're not coming down with the same bug your mom had?

"Relax, dad." she shoot back brightly, as she bent down to carefully rearrange the disheveled blanket covering the pale but attractive form of her sleeping mother. "It just got a little warm in here, is all."

"Okay Sonny, honey. If you say so," Her father said with a relieved smile. "But you can't blame me for being a little over-concerned. After all, it's been a big job you tending her by yourself all week."

"Nope. Been a pleasure." Sonny replied, gazing down on the slumbering form resting cocooned peacefully on the bed. "After all, Mom takes pleasure in visiting me when I'm sleeping. So it's the very least I could do to return the favor."

She bent down once again to plant a soft, loving kiss on the sallow skin of her mother's forehead. Hidden behind the long, cascading curtain of her hair she allowed herself a fleetingly secretive smile of satisfaction. "Yes, it's been a real pleasure."

If her father heard the words, he quite innocently failed to recognize the implicit meaning behind them.

My grateful thanks to the many readers who offered me their kind, welcome and constructive feedback on my earlier submissions. This submission, although it can be read as a stand-alone story, is also a loose sequel to my earlier, "Sonny While She’s Sleeping". (And yes, I placed this little rider at the end deliberately, so as not to endanger the payoff to this particular tale. I hope you enjoyed it. Please feel free to vote, comment or even do both! :)

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