A Chapter excerpt from Nella's Memoirs

Dream Images

I dreamed of McAllister last night. A hot, sexy dream that I can not get out of my mind. I woke from it dripping wet between my legs and very aroused, and I could almost feel his tongue working my clit, as it had in the dream, while I used my fingers to bring myself to orgasm. My body shuddered with pleasure, and half-awake, I returned to the world of the dream. It is a strange reverie, for I am awake and yet I'm caught up in these visions...

I am sitting on a blue blanket in front of the large stone fireplace in the living room, with a cup of tea in my hands. The aromas of bergamot and raspberries waft up my nose as I take a careful sip of the hot liquid. The tea is too hot. I blow on it to cool it and tiny ripples form on the surface. I take another sip, and finding the tea being still too hot, I put the cup down on the stones in front of the fireplace.

A hand ruffles my curls, setting a tingling ache to burn just above my bare pussy. I feel a pair of legs push against my spine. I tilt back my head and look up to see a pair of pendant balls, and a cock hanging limp. A face comes into view: a solid square face topped with cropped pale blonde hair. Bright blue eyes twinkle at me, and the corners of a pair of thin lips lift in a smile.

"McAllister," I say, as he lowers himself down beside me. "Where is father?"

"He's gone to the Golden Palace for the night," says McAllister. "We're all alone. Your father has told you what he's promised in return for certain important business concessions?"

I nod. "Father assured you one night with me, and I'm to let you do anything you desire." I shiver. "I don't know if I can. I don't know. I don't know. I've only been with... no I can't say..."

"I know your secret," he says, lifting my chin so that I look up into his now serious eyes. "I've known for a long time that your father has sex with you. How did I find out? The first time I came here, eight years ago, I passed your father's bedroom on my way to the kitchen for a late night snack. The door stood ajar. Hearing groans of pleasure, I looked inside, curious to see who was in the room with your father. To my utter shock it was you."

He caresses my cheek, and plants a gentle kiss on my lips. I wait for him to tell me more of what he had seen all those years ago.

"You were kneeling between your father's spread legs," McAllister continues. "And you were licking his cock. He had the biggest cock I'd ever seen in my life. Not daring to stay longer, in case one of you spotted me looking into the room, I went on my way. Did I peep again on the way back to my room? I did. By that time your father was on top of you, and pumping with great abandon. And that was the moment I first wanted you."

He kisses me again. It is a harder, more insistent kiss. The tip of his tongue limns my lips, and pushes them apart. I keep my teeth tight against each other. I will not let him in. Not just yet He runs his hands along my jaw, and into my hair, wrapping the curls around his fingers just the way I like it. A tingling bass note of pleasure plays through my pussy and back up to my head.

"Don't stop," I say, when his fingers halt their delicious manipulation of my hair.

He touches his lips against mine, and when his fingers continue their dance in my hair, I open my lips to him, and his tongue slides into my mouth. I taste mint, as his tongue caresses mine. After a short time, he pulls away from me and takes a sip of my tea.

"Why'd you stop?" I ask. "I'm just beginning to enjoy kissing you."

"I want you to know our history," he says. "I want you to know how much I love you. We could have such a good life together." He sounds wistful. "I wish you could remember the good times we have with each other; somehow you never do."

"I was telling you about the time I saw you with your father, and the first time I desired you, wasn't I?" he put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in to his side.

"Well, the next day when Cicero and I were discussing business in his office, I told him what I had seen the night before. He yelled at me, calling me a lot of ugly names that I won't repeat to you. I did a lot of shouting myself and threatened to call the authorities. He grew quiet then, and we sat down and discussed the matter in a rational manner. By lunch time, we had come to an agreement: I would get to spend one hour with you in return for my silence and a seat on the board of my fabrics company for Cicero. I fought a long time against the stipulation that your father be with us when I had my time with you."

He takes another sip of tea, and hands the cup to me. The tea has cooled so much that it has gone from hot to cold. I take a long swallow, swishing it around in my mouth before letting it flow down. McAllister's arm slips down my shoulder to my front, and he places his hand on my breast. It lies on my flesh as light as a feather, as he continues with his story.

"We ate lunch reclining on the lawn in the conservatory. You wore a demure white dress with a high lace collar, long sleeves with lace cuffs, and lace hung from the hem of the straight skirt that just touched your ankles. A row of tiny pearl buttons went down the center of the dress from the collar down to the hem. I thought you the most exquisite young woman I had ever seen in that dress.

"All I remember of lunch was your father feeding you mayonnaise-coated shrimp from a crystal bowl filled with shrimp salad, and tiny spoonfuls of raspberry fool. He kissed your lips after every offering of food, and between time, he kissed your brow, cheeks, and hands. How I wished I could do the same thing. Then Cicero looked my way, and whispered in your ear. You glanced at me over your shoulder, and gave me a smile.

"My heart danced when I saw that wonderful smile, which lit up your face and made your eyes twinkle with merriment. In that moment, I fell in love with you.

"Cicero handed you a small silver dish filled with raspberries mixed into thick cream, and you beckoned with a slender finger for me to come closer. I moved to kneel in front of you. Being that close to you, I smelled the subtle aromas of rosewater, and your female musk. Using one of the tiny silver spoons, you fed me raspberry fool until nothing remained in the dish. You gave me another of those electrifying smiles as I took the dish from your hand, and licked it clean with long strokes of my tongue."

McAllister falls silent. He takes another sip from the cold tea, and declines my offer of a fresh hot cup. The hand on my breast squeezes twice and then relaxes with the fingers barely touching the nipple. One more sip from the delicate gold-rimmed cup, and he goes on with his story.

"Dinner was always a formal affair whenever guests were present," he says, stretching out his stocky legs toward the fire. "Cicero and I both wore a black tux, but, while I wore a ruffled white shirt, he wore a white cotton cableknit sweater. You were, once again, a vision in white. I don't think that I have ever seen you in any other color than white, and always in a dress or a skirt and blouse. That evening you wore a skirt made of layers of a sheer material that swirled and danced around you with every movement. A skin-tight lace blouse with a scooped neckline and a diamond necklace completed the ensemble.

"Cicero, your father -I know I should call him that, for that is how you think of him, but I can't for it reminds me that the things you do with him are forbidden by our society -took his seat at the head of the table. You sat at his right side, and I took my seat at his left, across the table from you. My breath caught in my throat when I spotted your budding breasts visible through the lace molded around them. Cicero smiled as I exhaled with a soft gasp. My male organ twitched and a bulge formed in my trousers. Suddenly, I felt shame at my reaction to you. My manhood subsided as the blood rushed to my face, and heat suffused it. I turned to Cicero.

"I wanted to tell him that I no longer desired to spend the hour with you. The arrival of the little sever-bot with silver plates holding tomato and mozzarella salads put the thought from my mind. I could spend an hour in your presence and not have sex with you; we could just talk. After the salads, a spoonful of lemon sherbet refreshed our palates for the main course. Covered plates were placed before us by the server-bots. Faint aromas of garlic, onions, and charred meat emanated from beneath the covers, which were lifted to reveal grilled entrecote steaks piled with melting garlic butter, caramelized onions, green beans, and tiny new potatoes.

"I knew with my first bite of the steak that it was not the vat-grown cultured meat, which I ate three times a week. The exquisite flavor and texture of the tidbit in my mouth told me that the steak gracing my plate had once been a part of a living animal. I tasted one of the long, slightly crisp beans, one of the potatoes, and a fork full of the onions. All were without a doubt real. With every bite I ate, I felt jealous of you and Cicero. At the time, I owned three factories, which churned out thousands of miles of cloth in a day, so I was well off, but I could not afford real meat and vegetables. I had enough money to be able to eat prime cultured food. However, real food would forever be out of my reach.

"It delighted me at that moment that I would be making use of you later in that evening. I no longer cared that you were still a child.

"During dessert -a rich chocolate mousse that melted on my tongue and left a lingering flavor of bitter chocolate -I gazed at what I could see of your small breasts through the lace of your tight top. I imagined my hands covering those small mounds, and my thumb and forefinger pinching the nipples. My cock hardened and pushed the material of my trousers outward. Cicero, seeing where I looked, ran a finger down the front of the lacy top. I gasped in surprise as the material literally came apart into what appeared to be snowflakes.

"One of the flakes drifted my way, and I caught it on the palm of my hand. It looked like a real snowflake, but it did not melt away like one. I captured a second one, and when I pushed it close to the first, they joined to form a larger flake. I raised an eyebrow at Cicero.

"He told me the material came from one of the Far Eastern Technoclaves, and that they thought he might be able to use it in his line of clothing for sex dolls. He thought it would make good bras, panties, and undershorts, for those times when a couple felt frisky. I sensed a business offer in the making. For a moment, I was torn between wanting to talk about the strange material, and thinking about the pleasure to come.

"I turned and looked across the table at you. My gaze fell on those two lovely breasts of yours. No concern showed in your eyes as you stared back at me. You did not seem to care that my eyes took in your alabaster skin and rosy nipples. Cicero leaned over and whispered in your ear. You shook your head. Cicero continued to whisper and I heard anger in his voice. You shook your head again. Your face flushed red. Your eyes blazed with anger and your lips thinned. Cicero continued whispering. You leaped up, and ran from the room.

Cicero looked at me, and shrugged his shoulders. "What can you do?" he said. 'She's at that age when the hormones are going crazy. Perhaps you would like to reconsider... ?'

I told him firmly that I would have my hour with you, temper tantrum or not."

McAllister pauses. He takes another sip of the cold tea. With a gentle pressure he turns my face toward his, and kisses me, long and hard. Reluctant to take his lips from my lips, he begins to talk with his mouth just above mine.