Chapter 6

The next morning, I awoke and found that I had not dreamed. I used the bath and found myself sitting on the seat, rubbing my clitoris lightly and thinking of Doris’ vulva surrounding my face. Soon, my fingers began moving faster, exciting myself, making my vaginal lubricant flow, making my nipples swell against the light tee shirt I slept in. I imagined the taste of Doris, her feel, her scent. I used both hands to rub myself harder and harder until I felt that snapping of my nerves and the bliss that followed it. I sniffed my fingers; they smelled and tasted similar to Doris but something was missing – as if the recipe was incomplete.

I washed my hands and turned to go back to my room but I stopped.

Doris’ room was at the end of the hall, past mine and on the opposite end from Mamma and Dad. I had not been in it yet. She kept her door closed and always rose before I did. This morning, however, the door was cracked and, it seemed, I could almost hear her calling me even though the house was silent. I moved slowly down the hall. At her door, I paused and realized that I was shaking. The door seemed to open for me.

Doris lay on her bed, asleep. She wore a light transparent robe that served to highlight her dark aureoles rather than hid them. The robe had fallen open and her legs were spread affording me a clear view of her vulva. It glistened in the morning light.

I felt a gently push on the back of my head as if hand pulled me forward. Doris’ voice called me from that deep soul-well that I heard with my head and not my ears. Come. It said. Worship. I could not resist. I sat on the edge of her bed and yet she did not stir. I could not understand how she could be asleep and yet I hear her – feel her – so insistently.

I yet I didn’t resist the voice and the pull because I didn’t want to. I peeled open her womanly flower and drank with abandon, licking and sucking all parts of her that I could reach. She did not wake physically and yet I could feel the voice in my head crying out for me to touch her deeper, push my tongue deeper into her recesses. Again, it seemed that her vulva responded by trapping my face and pulling it even more tightly in. I felt as if I were suffocating, drowning in a blissful mask of Doris’ sex. She finally released the nectar that I had hungrily sought, more than the night before. I felt dizzy as I drank it. I still was unable to identify what was so different between us.

In my head, her groans faded to one word: sleep.