Chapter 2: The Cat and the Queen

Emily sat in the hospital cafeteria. She was enjoying a hot cup of the tea the locals seemed to prefer. It was dark and strong, but also very sweet. She thought they must pour sugar into the pot until no more can dissolve. It was exactly what she needed. Her shift was only half over, but she was exhausted.

'I guess I shouldn't be surprised, ' she thought, still feeling the pleasant ache between her legs. After her encounter with Gregg at the beginning of her shift, she returned the cart and threw the dirty linens down the laundry chute. As if a switch had been turned off, her sexual glow suddenly disappeared and she was left with the stark reality of what had happened. She walked back to Gregg's room to talk to him about it, but he was sound asleep. Even her gentle prodding didn't wake him up. She picked up his chart and re-read his case. She couldn't understand where the energy for such a fantastic fuck had come from especially given that he had woken from a two-day coma only hours earlier. Whatever it was that happened between them had clearly used up what little store of energy he had left.

So, for the next three hours she had to work that much harder since she had spent nearly an hour with Gregg. Taking another sip of her tea, she was glad for the break. Free from her duties for a little while, her mind was free to go over events.

She knew she was pretty. When she finally blossomed at age 15, she had a steady stream of boyfriends, some serious, some fleeting. She had mastered the art of being cute, coy, and flirty, depending on which would serve her purposes best. But until this night, she had never been a seductress. Actually, tonight was a first on several fronts. She had NEVER slept with a patient in the three years she'd been volunteering at hospitals. She had NEVER slept with an older man, and at the age of eighteen, twenty-six seemed pretty old. She had NEVER swallowed a man's cum, even though she had plenty of boyfriends who wished she had. She had never cum without being touched, and she had NEVER cum so many times in one night.

Just reminiscing about her encounter had her cunt twitching again. She was uncomfortably aware that she wasn't wearing panties, having left them with Gregg as a playful reminder of their time together. Her thighs opened and closed slightly and she could feel the wet, sticky warmth start to spread. She stood from the table and got a lidded to-go cup from the cafeteria. She had thought to lie down on one of the couches in the lounge, but she really didn't feel like being around anybody. She wandered aimlessly for a few minutes, taking sips of her tea when she found herself in front of his room. She still had 15 minutes left on her break, so no one would be looking for her. She checked around and no one was at the nurse's station, so she slipped into Gregg's darkened room unnoticed.

She put her tea down on the counter and walked over to the bedside. He was still sound-asleep. The stillness of the room was only broken by his head turning back and forth occasionally, his lips mumbling something unintelligible, and his fingers twitching. Once in a while one of his legs would bend slightly before settling back down. He was dreaming, she could tell. She looked into his face. Even with his eyes closed, she could see his innocence. What she told him earlier, she still believed: that he was a virgin before this night. He had told her how he avoided people, preferring to spend time with books. He had a great sense of being hurt, or worse, being the one to hurt someone else. She felt a strong attraction to him. It wasn't love — she was sure of that — but it was a pull.

She smoothed the hair off his forehead, slightly damp with sweat. He looked pale, even in just the moonlight coming through the window. He calmed noticeably at her touch and she felt as if some part of her was being drawn in. She trailed her hand over his cheek, and down his chest, where she could feel his heartbeat. She could more than feel it — she felt like she could hear it in her head. bum-BUMP, bum-BUMP. When she pulled her attention away from his life-rhythm, she saw to her horror that her hand had continued its journey south. Gregg's cock was laying against his right thigh, the one closest to her side of the bed, and her hand was grasping it, with only the thin material of his gown separating them. She jerked her hand away as if touching a burning stove, putting it to her own chest as if to control her suddenly quickening heartbeat. She took a few steps back away from the bed only to find that her hand had moved to grasp her right tit, squeezing her ex

tended nipple between the middle of her thumb and the side of her palm.

She dropped her hands to her sides. Her hands clenched and unclenched in fists as she fought them for control. Taking a cleansing breath, she pulled the room's lone chair over to the side of the bed and sat down to think things through.

'What is it about this guy that has me hot all over? Why do I have a desperate need to lay my hands on him, touch him, join with him?' She paused, 'Then again, when have I ever used phrases like 'lay my hands' or 'join with' when referring to another human-being.'

Gregg shifted on the bed, and his gown rode up on his leg. From where she was sitting, she could see his cock laying against his leg. 'Why didn't I put him under the covers?' His cock twitched and she gave a start, realizing that she'd been staring at it. To her horror, and amusement, it started growing again. She thought she could hear his pulse again, pounding in her ears. Emily watched his cock grow in tiny jerks, each spasm synced to his heartbeat ... or was it her own? She began to feel detached from her body, like she was an observer caught inside this flesh prison. She could sense everything it felt, saw, and heard, but she had no control over its actions. She looked down and saw that her own skirt had ridden up and that she was darting one finger in and out of her wet cunt, occasionally bringing it out to circle around her clit. She looked up and saw that his cock was fully erect, even though he was still asleep. She had a bad feeling where this was goin

g ... or was it a good feeling?

It was a dream. He didn't know how, but he knew it was a dream. He was in a room, a bedroom. He was sitting up on the bed, his feet on the floor. He didn't know why, but he was sure it was located where the current dig was. Lit braziers kept the night chill away, and small fire provided the only light beyond the moonlight coming in from the window. He felt like he was waiting for something. He looked around. The room was small, with only the bed and a small table as furniture. He was naked, but for some reason it didn't bother him. A small brown cat purred on the bed. It stood from its prone position and stretched, small but lithe. It walked over to him and rubbed his back with its head, marking him with its scent. As it did so, he felt strength seeping into him, some of the day's exhaustion leaving him.

"It seems Ahméla brought you a present," a sultry voice sounded from the doorway. Gregg looked up from the cat and met her eyes. "You may leave us now Ahméla. Thank you for letting me know he was awake." The cat looked at the doorway and back up at Gregg.

He nodded his head and scratched it behind its ears. "Yes, thank you Ahméla. I feel much better." The cat licked his fingers and then bounded off the bed and out the door. He watched her exit until his eyes met the legs that went with the voice he just heard. The woman standing in the doorway was beyond beautiful. She wore only a loose fitting white shift that hinted at the treasures beneath. Her face was blurred, so he couldn't make out any details. All he knew was that red hair framed her face and eyes that were impossibly green bore into his soul. There was something dangerous and yet alluring about her being there.

She walked toward the bed, her hips swaying seductively. She pushed him back into bed, laying him on his back. She sat next to him, her hands tracing lazy circles over her chest. "Ahméla brought you here to heal. You know you're not supposed to be out of bed." Even though he couldn't make out her facial features, he was sure she smiled.

With that, she bent forward and took his cock into her mouth.

Gregg closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He whispered, "Yes, My Queen..." and drifted away with the pleasure, the scenery around him dissolving.

Gregg's eyes fluttered open. It was still night. He was sure he was still experiencing afterimages of his dream because he felt the most wonderful feeling coming from his groin. He was content to bask in his memories of that dream, but the pleasure started feeling too real. As the fog of sleep started to lift, he also became aware of the sounds. The wet, sucking sounds and the low groans — groans that were not his own.

He looked down and saw a figure standing over the bed, bent in half with one foot on the floor and one knee on the bed. The only clothing he could see was the red lacy bra she was wearing. Other than that, from what he could tell, she appeared to be naked. Her left hand balanced her weight on the bed while her right gripped him firmly in the middle of his erect cock. It jacked up and down in time with her mouth which plunged up and down in a relentless rhythm. Emily looked up when his hand caressed her head, gently gripping it over her left ear.

She looked up, seeing that he was awake, but she didn't stop, nor even slow down. Gregg's head was spinning a mile a minute. As much as he was enjoying what was going on, he felt like his grip on reality was slipping and he needed a second to clear his head. Using both hands and almost all the strength he could muster, he pulled her face off his cock with an audible pop. Her tongue snaked out of her mouth, trying to maintain contact with it. With a firm grip on either side of her head, he lifted her face up so she was looking at him. She stopped trying to force her face down, but her hand still slowly jacked his cock.

"Ahméla..." he shook his head, trying to clear the last remnants of the dream. "Emily, what are you doing?"

Emily didn't flinch at names. Both sounded ... right. "I don't know," she said, licking her lips, savoring the taste of his flesh on her tongue. "I came to check on you, and your cock started grow, and I don't know ... I ... I just had to ... had to have it."

Gregg took a moment to marvel at how pretty she was. Her hair pulled back in its ponytail hid none of the features of her face. She was flush with excitement, giving her skin a very sexy glow. From the angle he had, he could look deep into the crevice of her breasts, still encased and slightly pushed together in her bra. W was at a loss for words and relaxed his grip on her head.

Still gripping his cock, Emily stood straighter. She opened her mouth slightly and the tip of her tongue extended to touch the middle of her upper lip. Whether it was a sensual gesture, or just one of thought, Gregg couldn't tell. But suddenly she retracted her tongue and had a wicked grin on her face.

With cat-like dexterity that surprised them both, Emily vaulted onto the bed, landing with her knees on either side of his chest, her body pointing down toward her feet. She arched her back so her breasts were crushed against his stomach and the side of her face resting in the dense curls at the base of his erect cock. This caused her pussy to peek out from between her asscheeks and gape wetly only inches from his face. He was hypnotized by the sight. He had never been this close to one before, and he studied it, like a pottery specimens he'd found ... except ruins didn't smell this enticing.

He brought his hands up between her spread thighs. With his left thumb, he pushed one side of her gash open, revealing the glistening pink interior. He brought up his right index finger and traced around the lips. As it got coated with her secretions, he pushed it into her, feeling its depths. The walls of her pussy clamped around the invader, massaging it, milking it. Gregg heard Emily moan and realized she was resting her cheek at the bottom of his abdomen, his cock bumping against her hair. For the time being, she seemed content to let him explore. The furious rush to make him cum moments earlier seemed to vanish in favor of this more languid, sensual exploration.

Gregg darted his finger in and out of her c, amazed by the flood of liquids coating his finger. He pulled it out and watched as her vaginal muscles clenched and unclenched, seeking its now-missing intruder. Gregg brought his finger to his face, inhaling the musky aroma. He tentatively stuck out his tongue and tasted her juices off his finger. The small taste sent a wave of pleasure through his body. He couldn't explain why, but he thought that this must be the kind of rush junkies get when the shoot up.

Cleaning off the rest of her juices from his finger, he wet his middle finger also and then inserted both fingers into her open slit. Emily groaned, the walls of her cunt resuming their massage of his digits. Gregg also noticed that her hips began flexing in time to his plunges. He pulled them out again, but didn't break contact. He used his slimy fingers to trace around the lips of her pussy, finally coming to the small nubbin inside at the bottom, or the top — if she were standing. His fingers slid across it, and her whole body jerked. "Yesssss," she hissed.

Gregg needed no more introduction. He pulled his hands out from under her cunt and gripped her hips. He pulled her back until her cuntlips where over his face. With a sudden jerk of his head, he thrust his lips at her opening, causing a startled gasp to come from Emily. His tongue snaked out and plunged her depths, sliding up and down, in and out. He'd trace her lips and then thrust his face fully into her, shaking his head back and forth.

Emily was beside herself with pleasure. She'd thought she'd have to give him some pointers, but he seemed a natural. She lifted her head so she could take his cock back in her mouth, moaning furiously into the tip. She kept her hands to either side of his hips, wanting to only use her mouth. Her tongue tickled this piss-slit at the top and then she stuffed as much of his cock between her stretched lips as possible. Back and forth she rocked, her bra-clad tits brushing tightly against his stomach. Even through the material, she could feel shockwaves racing from her nipples down her spine and to her cunt.

Their mutual oral pleasures played itself out like a race, with each runner trying to get the other to reach the finish line first. Gregg would suck on Emily's clit hard, letting his tongue take long swipes within the vacuum of his mouth. She would grind harder and harder against his face. Suddenly, the suction on his cock would substantially increase and he found the pleasure so intense that he couldn't give her clit as much attention. Sensing that he was getting near explosion, he'd redouble his efforts to make her cum. And so it went - each would find themselves coming to a peak of pleasure and not wanting the moment to end, they'd focus on giving their partner even more pleasure, distracting themselves from the eventual and inevitable. Back and forth they went, each alternating on bringing the other to near total bliss.