“I’m the
biggest thing you’ve ever done, right?!”
My arms
were out with puffed up bravado, making sweeping gestures at my body, on naked
display as I strutted around on the queen bed mattress. This was somewhat ridiculous as
our respective figures were very different, the beef in her musculature outstripped my own
for miles. There was a moment where I inwardly considered if it wasn’t too late
to switch on a movie and just cuddle. But she'd insisted, and when Jennifer Tomlin insisted you didn't refuse, or you'd be physically chased down and pinned.
All the
mental pictures of her that had sustained me the past few weeks were nothing
compared to the gargantuan vista of naked femininity; a real life, vastly
scaled up Venusian sculpture sprawled out, in front, around, and past me, on
the endless coils of silk sheets that covered the queen bed (the 'matrimonial
bedchambers' as she had facetiously taken to calling it).
Nearest me,
the massive soles of her feet slid lazily over the bed as she stretched and
crossed her legs, arching and wiggling the toes, before the legs rose at the
knee, the soles met the sheets again, and clenched, gripping the sheet,
threading it between her toes. These small, anticipatory stretches and
restless, almost reflexive movements accompanied her readiness of my body
making contact with hers and finally, being consumed by her substantially
larger one.
Her great
womanhood bared itself to me without a trace of self-consciousness: the spiky
pelt of the labial mound bordering the slit now beginning to glaze with a
drizzle of its own self-produced luster. Every so often she shifted with
repressed arousal, throwing me glimpses of the doorway slit as it pulled
tightly between her legs, sometimes twitching with a flare of nervous
anticipation. Her breath heaved as her back arched while her butt shifted
position, making the mattress tug under my feet. It looked like irritation;
like a tiny bug bit her or something, but actually was the desire mounting
between her hips; it was starting to agonize her, like an infuriating itch. Her
eyes met mine and there was a look I'd seen countless times now before, like I was a piece of
food: her lips sucked in and her throat convulsed as she swallowed, while her
mind wandered, only half interested in what I had to say anymore.
She leaned
over gracefully, propping her head up on her palm. The engorged fruitlike
masses of her breasts undulated faintly with each relaxed sweeping breath,
hovering just above the mattress. If she lowered a single one of those lush, painfully
tender organs onto my prone body, it would cover me up entirely, and probably
sink the air clean out of my chest. The reddened swelling of each nipple was
tightening with every passing second as her unblinking gaze held on my tiny
body.
I began to
flex my muscles, as – on the inside – I was sweating for an answer to my
question – or in anticipation of what might be to come. What thoughts she had relied on to sustain herself during my absence?
“TRY: THE
BIGGEST ‘FULL PERSON’.”
“I’m the only full person you’ve ever done.”
She mock
winced.
“SLIGHT CORRECTION:
YOU’RE NOT A ‘FULL PERSON’. YOU’RE A NOT-QUITE-PAST-THE-DECIMAL-POINT
PERSON.”
“Harsh!”
I turned my
back on her and strode to the end of the bed. A foot rustled over the sheets
after me, as smoothly as a snake; the angular toes lifted and spread as the
nail of the big toe whispered over my spine, trying to tickle me. I jumped
away. The foot swung out again – she evidently couldn’t be bothered to reach
for me with her arms – while the big toe angled at me, trying to deliver a tap
against whatever part of my body was within reach, but aiming specially for the
part of my anatomy most accessible to her raised foot; my head. I dived away as
it came for me, narrowly missing. But she was faster; when I got to my feet, I
found myself face to face with the ridged pad of a ballooned up big toe, and
intimidating overhang of gleaming white nail tip pointed at me. Even as I
stared it darted forward and delivered a soft tap to my temple that made me
stagger on my feet.
From somewhere
behind the great obstructing presence of her big toe, at the other side of the
bed, she watched with leisurely amusement as I tried to jump and dive away from
her foot and grasping, angular toes, which each singularly beat out my biceps
for strength.
“Leave me
alone!” I squeaked, dashing over the mattress, her foot in close pursuit. “You
think this is romantic? It’s not!”
She let out
a derisive laugh, her foot swooping at me again, the long leg creating a wall I
couldn’t hope to jump, while the big toe angling out again, going for another
tap at my temple, but I managed to twist my head away. Unfortunately, the toe
tried to forestall me, also moving at the same time, trying to catch my temple
at the new location but, in trying to outwit my evasion, accidentally
delivering a sharp tap into my eyes. The pad of her toe was too big to insult
the delicate surface of my eyeballs, but the sudden stamping sensation shocked
me, I recoiled as my offended tear ducts made my vision blur.
“Eugh,” I
grunted, patting my face.
For her the gesture might only have been careless and
reflexive, but she didn't realize that her toe blocked out my view of
everything, like some rude stranger jumping up in front of me as I was having a
conversation with someone else. The fact that it was indiscriminately making
contact with my facial perimeter only deepened the offence. Her toe pad was a surface
of her body that she pounded unthinkingly on floor, dirt, scum and floorborne
trash particles, yet she had no objection to treating my face as just another
kind of floor surface for the toe to touch down upon. And she enjoyed every
second of my belittlement.
But now
that I’d stopped ducking and dodging her foot, she tired of the game. She
shifted; with fluid gymnastics she drew her legs in and curled around on the
bed until her forearms framed me on either side. One hand cupped around me
while the thumb of the other tenderly dabbed around my eyes, consoling the
sting.
“I HATE TO
TELL YOU, DARLING, BUT—“ with my back to her, her first two fingers, coming from behind, hugged around my chest lightning fast while
her ring finger slipped between my legs and tucking my bulge in the crook of
the joint, “—YOUR GRAND WORLD RECORD FOR SIZE ISN’T FOR MAGNITUDE.”
I scoffed,
slapping her fingers with resentment; the first two of which were keeping me
enclosed around the torso while the ring finger swatted my member around.
Warm air trickled
directly down over me as she kissed the top of my head, and added sincerely:
“YOU ARE THE BEST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED
TO MY G-SPOT.”
Frissons of
pleasure shivered through my member as it was swatted and tugged about with the
idle flicks and flexion of her ring finger, even as the sight of the long
varnished nails glimmering so dangerously close to my balls made my insides
skip.
Her voice grew keen and penetrating.
“WHAT’S IT
LIKE IN THERE, ANYWAY?”
I didn’t
reply at first. Impatient, the fingers lifted delicately as the nails of the
first two fingers began to drum against my ribs, and into my diaphragm, trying
to playfully beat a reply out of me. It tickled and slightly winded me at the
same time, and I wrestled with her hand, trying to liberate myself. The tiny touches and twitches of her strong fingers had such an alarming impact on my tiny form, gentle pushes displaced me bodily, and I lifted so easily from the bed, I was a mere toy between her hands.
“It’s like
trying to swim through a wet blanket.”
She laughed,
her breasts jiggling over my head like giant coconuts about to spill from the tree. Her weird sense of humor made her difficult
to offend even if I wanted to.
“REALLY."
She said this in a smugly satisfied way, like I'd just told an outlandish, entertaining story and she wanted to hear another just like it.
“Yes.”
The air was
thickening with a musky aroma. It was becoming painfully aware that this entire
magnified vista of feminine sex was growing tired of my blathering attempts to
stall. She was hot with laser concentration on my form, as the sole catalyst
for imminent carnal release. Just the thought of my cute toy body being
squished in never-ending vaginal bear hugs was making her butt clench with
desperate restraint. The only thing that stood between her and unadulterated euphoria
was me; and the only serious question in her mind was how quickly she could
persuade me to line up and enter her tunnel of delight and submit totally to
its vigorous munching.
“I THINK I
CAN BEAT THAT.”
“What?”
The ring
finger returned between my thighs and cranked upwards until I was practically
riding it.
“IMAGINE, LIKE
YOU’RE TRYING TO SWIM UP MY PUSSY,” she explained, as the inside of the finger
rubbed along the inside of my thighs and under my buttocks, attending
sensitively to my balls, “BUT THEN YOU DISSOLVE INTO MY BLOODSTREAM AND SPREAD
OVER MY BODY. AND, YEAH,” her voice got a slight flutter like she was smiling or
holding back another laugh, and my balls were given a little tweak, “THAT'S WHAT IT'S LIKE FOR ME, SO I DON’T
THINK WE’LL BE SWITCHING ROLES.”
She
extricated my member from the joint of her ring finger, and now slid the
thumbnail in at my thighs, sweeping up my shaft and balls until they rested on
the glossy plate while she examined my expanding girth with interest, loving
the physical proof that she’d got me to rival her arousal.
Then fingers
clambered eagerly around my back, sharp nail prods materializing in various
places as my anatomy was variously probed with curiosity. One of the nails –
accidentally or not – stuck itself between my butt cheeks and slid along my
crack, causing my balls to hunch. There was something about my size that seemed
to make feminine fingers apt to wander with disregard and stake claim over my
physical terrain, like I was a little piece of Play-Doh and the giant invasive
hand had an ache it was keen to knead away.
As if I was
nothing more than a little toy, her fingers spun me around with incredible ease
to face her again. Directly in front sat the shelf of her breasts, pressed
together against the mattress, creating a center cleft big enough to have swallowed
me up whole into the tight throat of her cleavage. The red knots that were the
nipples made rhythmic, almost imperceptibly faint jolting motions in time with
her heartbeat, it has a hypnotic effect and I lost myself, staring.
Breaking my
trance, the tip of a huge index finger hovered close, blocking the view as it
tilted in underneath my jaw, to make contact with my left pec and stroke the
tattoo affectionately.
“HAVING A
STARING COMPETITION WITH MY NIPPLES?” she said lazily. “WHO’S WINNING?”
“Uhh…”
The bed
groaned as she lifted herself onto her hands and knees. Nearest me, her palm
sunk the mattress down, causing me to stagger.
“THE BOOBS
CAN WAIT. I HAVE ANOTHER COMPETITION FOR YOU, AND THE PRIZE IS YOUR FREEDOM.”
Her
forefinger and thumb plucked up my chest and then my head was shooting at the
cleft between her thighs, touching the center of the slit with a wet smooch,
and driving powerfully inside. The hot damp purse flesh folded in around my
body, admitting me further while sticking and contouring to my shape. The slit
glided down my torso and legs. Finally, she let go of me, and tickled the
bottom of my feet with her pinky, forcing me further inside her to escape it.
The walls
of the muscle flume trembled. Then pulled utterly tense.
I had no
defence, my puny body surrendered wholly to the whims of her mega anatomy.
My penis
had swollen up and was forced to grind along the taut tunnel.
The inside
of her vagina was structured like a play tunnel composed of connected rings,
except each ring was a muscular band that pulled tight like a drawstring loop.
A persistent tapping sensation ran through the walls and down my length – a
pounding pulse rate – and unbearably through my groin. As the pulse amplified,
I came in a sudden spasm and the tiny emission was immediately lost, blending
into the generous soup of musky fluids pumped like machine oil all throughout
the tunnel. I was awash in it; all over my skin, through my hair, in my
stinging eyes, up my nose and in my mouth. It squelched under my armpits and
between my legs, and caused my body to make a sticky smooching sound every time
the walls collapsed against me, making me feel and sound like a wad of gum
crammed beneath a tongue, getting sucked and smacked on.
In the hot
heavy dark, it was hard to tell what was going on; I could be still or in
motion, and be anywhere in the labyrinth of Jen's build; her mouth, her
stomach. Because of her earlier association, I had the strange thought that I
had been injected beneath her skin via hypodermic needle, to fill a tight space
between layers of flexing muscle. Or pushed into her bloodstream to flutter in
loops around her system to the rhythm of her cardio workings. I was struggling to
beat back waves of light-headedness, and the delirium made it increasingly
difficult to differentiate myself as an entity separate from her. She was
pressed so tightly to me I felt like part of her body, a tiny extra slab of
muscle enlisted to contract in shockwaves in time with her building climax. As
a section of the tunnel cinched my waist and groin, one of these shockwaves
rippled through my penis, forcing my balls to expend even more.
The tunnel
was oozing generously with fluid, until her elastic tunnel was nearly bulging
trying to contain both me and all the fluid running from her glands. I
struggled to wipe the goo from my face, but she could appreciably feel my
vigorous but ineffective struggles inside her all-surrounding anatomical
prison, it only stimulated even more fluid.
As the
whole tunnel was gushing, I began to slip up and down her chute freely,
sluicing through her juices, but never entirely out. Her twitching vaginal
opening had amazing reflexes and always caught me just as my head popped free,
drawing tight around my neck and holding until another series of convulsions
vacuumed me back up into the darkness, and if her opening did not, the top of
my head quickly received a last-second poke to send me back where I came from.
She managed
to plateau, further delaying the inevitable and extending my ordeal, taking me
through another series of crushing manipulations. Every time the muscular wall
drew inwards like a compression sleeve, my body turned to dense stone, locking
me stiff as if I'd been frozen in ice. My chest turned into a scrunched fist,
unable to expand even a fraction to breathe. Every time the muscular wall
released, a wave of pent up juice sluiced down my head and body. This cycle
carried on in rhythmic oscillation, getting faster, the contractions morphed
from gradual squeezes to sudden snaps of immediate pressure. The contractions
were so sudden that each snapping pinch winded me a little more; my chest
became too cramped to expand for breathe even when the pressure lifted briefly,
I was being pushed to the brink of passing out even as she, by pure impulse,
indulged in another act of climactic delay, resulting in another round of being
pumped by the vice of her pelvis.
The tunnel
enlarged, shuddered, then in one quick movement pushed into me with the force
of a tackling football player, halving the circumference of my ribcage with one
blow, and cinching hard like a tourniquet. The wind squeaked out of my chest as
I gritted my teeth in pain, begging for the pressure to relax.
From
outside, Jen let out a wail that almost sounded like an expression of my pain,
except she was sunk into an enviable ecstasy, and sinking further, and with
rocking thrusts, I was released only enough to plunge further up her canal,
drawn along the trail of her slimy secretions. My penis was briefly caught
between wrinkles in her tunnel, and transformed into a series of thick pulses
and blinding jolts of sensitivity by the raw power of her pelvic contractions.
The stimulation pushed me to come again, my balls being exercised beyond
rationality.
There was a
buzzing noise and suddenly the tunnel turned into a shaking washing machine.
The pungent fluid bubbled and churned all over, foaming over my face in a thick
whipped lather even as I shook my head to clear it, it came frothing back.
My thoughts
were scattered and blurry, but I had just enough sense left to realize she was
working her clitoris with the vibrator to finish herself off.
The tunnel
was seized by a powerful jerk; the walls attempt to slam together, catching me
in the middle and almost knocking me stupid. I twitched helplessly.
Her climax roared
like the ocean, accompanied by the squeaking, bubbling sound of fluid in my
ears. Her knees squeezed together with pleasure, as she rode the climax down,
her pelvis hugged in on me, running me towards the end of her pussy like a
spurt of toothpaste, until my head emerges with a small squish. The soft, wet
pussy lips stuck to my face; I pushed them out of the way with an arm, before
the rest of my body pulsated out from between her thighs, onto the bed,
dripping in her warm syrup.
The air
grew cold as the moisture on my body was cooled immediately.
The canyon
of her thighs spread apart; and craning my head back as far as I could see, far
out past the canyon walls of her long legs, at the other end of the bed, her
feet shifted idly, the nails of one row of toes scratching the arch of the
other foot’s sole. Then the feet rolled over the mattress, scooping up bed
sheeting to slip beneath. The canvas of sheeting under my back rippled and
began to drag me. As one of her feet yanked the sheet up, the whiplike snap of
sheet created an improvised trampoline, flipping me into the air like a
pancake. I let out a startled yell before crashing into the meat of her thigh,
and bouncing onto the mattress in a heap of limbs.
Her body
slumped as she fell into surprised laughter.
Then the
satisfied rumble of her voice intoned with emphasis:
“CONFESSION
TIME…”
But my
brain was whipping forward: ‘confession time’ with her sounded like a risqué
game of truth or dare. I twisted around, whipped the parachute like sheet over
my head and began to run along the mattress into the dark.
“—NO YOU DON’T—!”
What felt
like a mattress dropped from the ceiling, collapsing my body against the bed in an instant. She’d slapped her hand straight down upon my moving
form, which must have looked like a fleeing lump under the white sheet. With
the weight resting powerfully against my body, keeping me trapped in the dark,
under the sheet as if it was cling wrap, her other hand rustled in after
me, poking me unceremoniously with fingers to distinguish my body parts. One of
my feet was grabbed and, as the weight lifted against, yanked from under the
sheet. Next second I was swinging gently upside down from one ankle. The air
was cool, and then rushed with warmth from her breath as she spoke again:
“NOW, HOW DO YOU THINK YOU DID?”
“Better
than last time but not better than next time.”
The mega
lips quirked. The soft surface of a pair of fingerpads rose up under my head,
creating a gentle platform for the crown of my skull as the other hand had its
grip on my leg and suspended me from above. A nail from below tapped the side
of my head idly.
“IS THAT A
PROMISE OR A DARE?”
“Can I
sleep now?”
“GETTING AHEAD
OF YOURSELF. TELL ME SOMETHING YOU LIKE ABOUT ME,” she insisted. I wished she’d
stop. I didn’t want to talk, just drop dead asleep. And with the blood rushing
to my head, I was starting to want to pass out, too.
“I like
your smile.” If only because her lips were right in front of my face and my
thoughts were blank.
“WHY?”
I rolled my
eyes.
“Why? It makes me hard.”
“PRAISE
SOMETHING UNUSUAL.”
Groaning, I
swung my fists at her mouth and she retaliated by directing a surge of hot air
into my face until my lungs ached, and made me even more dizzy from the
resulting hyperventilation.
“What do
you mean?” I said tightly.
“I MEAN IT WAS A BORING
ANSWER. TELL ME SOMETHING I DON’T KNOW.”
The
fingerpads supporting my head regrettably disappeared again, leaving my head
hanging from my spine once more. The hand didn’t vanish, but a slender pointer
finger uncurled, straightened and the nail tip began tickling around my thighs
and waist, not at my groin but deliberately close, without touching. My spine
jerked and single free leg kicked at the finger.
“How about
I tell you something I don’t like?!”
I gasped, flapping around in the air.
She
compounded my vulnerability by running a nail up and down my back to tickle my
spine, until my voice was reduced to a series of sputtering gasps. Only once my
body hung limply, like a cut of meat, completely spent, the ordeal ended.
“I guess…I
like your tongue.”
Her eyelashes batted at me with sarcasm.
“CLASSY.”
“I was
going to say something nice!” I shot back. “Being in your mouth would be kind
of lonely if your tongue wasn’t there. It’s like a big, affectionate puppy. And
it reminds me in the dark that you’re out there, somewhere.”
“AND IT
GIVES YOU FREE BLOW JOBS THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE SAYING.”
“Well, you say something about me.”
“MMM, OKAY
THEN…” she said, as her brilliant green eyes ran over my body like I was a tiny
piece of dangling food she was contemplating dropping onto her tongue.
“…I LIKE
YOUR EYELASHES.”
“What?”
There were probably a bunch of other things I had expected her to say.
“WELL, YEAH.
THEY’RE KINDA LONG AND MAKE YOU LOOK REAL CUTE.”
This answer
disturbed me, but before I could ponder over it, her thumb was suddenly right
up against my face, stroking my brow, trying to brush against my eyelashes. Even
though she was being incredibly delicate, my toes still curled at the proximity
of her long nails as her thumpad attempted to stroke at my eyelids, the
traction of the print tugging and stretching my brow and cheek.
“Arrrgh!” I
swatted and slapped at the shiny keratin invasion and then shielded my eyes
with my forearms in defeat and the probing stopped.
“DON’T LIKE
MY ANSWER?” her voice came lazily. "SO THEN IMPRESS ME WITH ANOTHER PART OF YOUR ANATOMY."
There was a
moist smack followed by wet pressure around the base of my shaft. This was
gradually transferred to the tip, pulling my entire body forward with a small
tug as it did so. Reaching the tip, there was a tight screwing sensation ringing
around the glans as her lip sucked with maximum force, before the pressure
returned to the base, and began climbing the shaft to the tip again, and
screwing tighter and tighter, to unbearable levels, until it felt like my whole
body was going to pop and take all the air and life and organs out of me,
deflating me to one tenth my size. I twitched and grasped at the puffed seal of
her lips as they continued to pump my member, and give the tip a pinching twist
causing it to throb helplessly in her grasp.
Once my
balls had hardened to cement, the pressure lifted from my shaft, and then I was
being tickled again, up and down my ribs and spine. I kicked and moaned with
frustration as her exultant, teasing laughter beat in my eardrums.
“Goddamn
it,” I grunted.
A nail tip
flicked my belly, snapped downwards against my half-erect dick.
“OKAY,
LITTLE MAN, I’M GOING TO MAKE A TINY MESS OF YOU. AND IT MIGHT HURT A LITTLE
BIT.”
“It already
hurt—urrgh!”
Her lips
parted and her tongue spilled out, at the same time she brought her hand
towards her, zooming me through the air upside down until my face impacted the
bumpy wall of her tongue with a soft slap, and everything went dark. The burly
muscle flexed over my puny face, indiscriminately squashing my soft, sensitive
features as it went, rolling over my jaw, slimeing down my chest, driving
itself stubbornly straight to the fork of my legs, swirling my member up before
it was captured in a tight moist embrace between her lips.
Her lips
drew in viciously around my girth, slurping my entire length in until my hips
jolted against her, and keeping me trapped me there as a series of mind-numbing
vacuums ran up and down my length. Her mouth utterly subjugated my tiny
manhood, lashing it with her tongue while repeatedly commanding it to stretch
as long as possible, puckering her lips tighter and tighter, drawing out every
inch of my erection. My hips bounced and grinded violently against her mouth
with bone-shaking jolts.
There was
an almighty pull and this time it did not let up. Twitches ran through my body
as my shaft was forced into an unnatural stretch and held there for a long
time. Drops of saliva rolled down my belly and chest, finally running thickly
over my face like honey. With my rod achingly taut, the tongue wagged sharply,
applying a couple of deft slaps to the tip of my dick, and the pressure in my
balls released in a rush.
The lips
gripped my shaft for an extra few minutes, tugging to ensure I was completely
spent, and sliding around the tip to clean everything up. Then the cool air ran
over my shaft as it came free, and before I could react, I was lifted slightly
so her lips could press a kiss over my face, painting it over with a soup of my
own fluids intermixed with her saliva.
As I heaved
for breath, my back was laid upon the mattress, while she rolled over and got
comfortable under the blanket. The light went off.
While she
drifted into uncomplicated sleep, I rolled over, stared at the ceiling. Rolled
over again. Beside me, deep, steady breathing with the tug and flow of ocean
wind. I huffed, and kicked the sheet off. Then, as the hair on my legs stood
up, I wrenched the sheet back again. The combination of Kolade I’d chugged
earlier that day, plus all the tickling and sexual stimulation had my blood
freighting around my system by bullet train. My thoughts raced and skipped.
Debating
internally with myself for several seconds, I finally had enough: I jumped up
and plodded to the end of the bed, and, scrunching the sheet in my hands as a
handhold, climbed over the edge and dropped onto the carpet. The soft carpet
fibers turned into frigid tiles as my path took me into the bathroom.
I scampered
up the shoelace rope ladder to reach the sink, and crossing the counter, came
to a stop at a small cosmetics travel case. Gripping a side handle, I wrenched
it with all my might, until the bag overturned onto its side, contents
rattling. Diving my upper body in between the sets of zip teeth, I dragged out
a foil sheet with half its foil bubbles still intact. Prescription sleeping
tablets. Not a surprising bounty for someone with Jen’s breathtaking energy
spikes, though she typically medicated herself with physical activity, and only
failing that, wine.
I drew my
fist back and punched one of the unopened foil bubbles with all my might. The
aluminium crinkled and split, tearing the seam open to access a white tablet,
which I rotated between my hands like a sports ball, sucking my lips in as if
contemplating eating a lemon.
My jaw
worked around the tablet, grinding it away between my teeth, bit by bit. As the
granules wore away they coated my tongue and throat. Tiny fragmented rocks of
tablet were swallowed whole. With a chunk of the tablet gone, I left the rest
on the counter and went back down the shoelace ladder. The rote descending
motions began to hypnotize my brain. Over halfway down, my feet slipped out of
position and the air was suddenly whizzing around me. Next instant the tiles
slapped my back. Groaning, I staggered back into the bedroom, and began pulling
myself up the bed.
For a
moment I was sorely tempted to just call out and get assistance, but then, with
one last nauseating wrench, I surmounted the mattress, but the swaying climbing
motion carried on even after I was upright. The tablet was kicking in, fast. A
muted, druggy kind of horror began growing in my gut; I had ingested too much
tablet for my diminutive metabolism.
In a
growing fog, I stumbled in what my dimming orientation was telling me was my
side of the bed. Then crashed face first into a sheet covered hump, which
turned out to be Jen’s foot. The foot responded in blind slumber by jerking
into action, plowing me over the sheets, like a small animal caught in the
scoop of a front-end loader. Her foot retreated again as I crawled rapidly up
my side of the bed to the pillow and whipped the sheet around myself.
Letting out
a deep sigh, I closed my eyes. As my respiration eased and my thoughts spaced
out, the darkness behind my eyes was filled up with a vivid scene summoned up
as if by its own power.
Jennifer
was holding her hand out to me, but instead of stepping onto it, I grasped it
and we were walking side by side. Then she started forward, but I was frozen in
place, her grip surged out of mine and her open hand flew up way above my head
as I was crashing down to earth, screaming like I was falling, but my feet
never left the ground, and yet I was going down and down and down…