“Suck my d*ck.”
That sentence was the last thing I remembered when I woke up from a deep slumber.
Such vulgar words, I know, but I found it surprisingly arousing. Not that I could remember all about my dream in detail. What clung in the recesses of my brain was a blurry face of a man, standing in my front, his black slacks pulled halfway down his long legs. I was kneeling, my face meeting his erection.
His very impressive erection.
No wonder it made me feel hot the moment I opened my eyes. Like wet hot.
It surprised me because I am what you would normally call, ‘untouchable’.
Seriously. I am proudly a member of SNBTVM - the Society for Never-Been-Touched Virgin Maidens.
Yeah, like that group of people actually exists.
Anyway, guess I am that sexually frustrated in my mid twenties age huh? Probably that’s why I am having this kinky, weird dream.
I can’t help it though. These past few months had been so busy.
The Mother Superior of St. Augustine, Sister Rhoda, asked me to volunteer for an outreach program that has an indefinite time frame of when it will be done.
I was glad to extend a helping hand though. The people in Nepal needed all the help they can get after the latest magnitude 7.8 earthquake hit them.
This would be my second month of stay here. The Sisters had a minicamp set up in a clearing near the destroyed Dharadara Tower. This area became our temporary residence. Our day-to-day routine consisted of cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner for our immediate assigned families, setting up temporary classes for the Nepali children, and offer first aid for those with minor wounds.
It may sound mechanical and laborious but it is a fulfilling daily routine for me. I do believe this is my calling - to help those in need and to provide care and assistance for the sick and elderly. I may not be a nurse or a doctor, but at least I can do this much in my own little way.
Today is especially excluded from my daily routine.
After shoving the dream in the back of my mind, I then started preparing my travel bag. Halfway from finishing the task, my special iPhone ringtone rang. It was an international call from my mother, straight from Wisconsin.
“Yep?” I answered immediately without even checking the name registered in the phone screen.
“Andrea, are you already packing up?” she inquired in her usual intimidating voice.
Right. Here she goes again, another go-get-your-butt-off rant, but don’t judge her quickly by the way. She is actually the best mother anyone can have. Sweet and caring, a very good cook, and overly supportive in all my endeavors in life. She even let me finish my college degree in Mass Communications even though she had hoped I had chosen Physical Therapy.
“Yes, Ma. I am. It is already eleven in the morning here. My flight is at one. I am just finishing everything here, making sure I don’t miss out on anything.”
“That’s good to hear,” she replied, relief was clear in her voice. I wonder what’s making her so nervous.
“Why are you calling? Aren’t you already asleep by now?” I asked, trying to fish out information. She is living together with my step-father, who owns a publishing company. I had a notion that her being nervous is all about her cookbook in the process of editing.
“Your Auntie Marcella has been bugging me constantly about you! I want to make sure that you are really leaving. I don’t want to hear you say that you needed more time on your volunteer work there.”
Guess my theory is wrong.
I heaved a sigh. The sudden hesitation crept inside me. I definitely do not want to abruptly end my volunteer work here. There’s still so much to do!
“Actually, I was about to say that. The nuns in St. Augustine needed me and-”
“Okay stop. You know how much Marcella misses you. You really should clear up your mind and focus on your vacation.”
I was fighting myself, resisting the urge to roll my eyes upwards. “Yes, Ma. I get it,” I said in haste. “You don’t need to sermon me again.”
I know how much she would love me to visit her older sister in Luxembourg. It’s not her fault anyway. Aunt Marcella has been constantly bugging me to go there too. It has been awhile since I visited her.
The first time I visited the place was when I was fourteen years old. It was Aunt’s ten-year anniversary wedded to a British movie director. The last time I visited was her husband’s funeral two years ago. I guess she needed someone to talk to that’s why she wanted me to visit. I didn’t really mind it though. She is my favorite aunt in the first place. Anything for her, I would do - except of course her constant matchmaking endeavors for me. That - I simply am not focusing right now.
“Good that you understand. So, I expect to see postcards in my mailbox from your tour in Belgium ASAP alright?” Her jovial tone was finally evident. I bet she is the only woman - if not the whole world, but the whole of Wisconsin - who doesn’t have a Facebook, Instagram or Twitter account.
“You can expect a sack of them if you want,” I lightly mocked, but I greatly have an inkling this was what she wants.
In the middle of biting my lip, I suddenly heard children shouting from the outside of my tent. Curious of what the commotion was all about, I briefly peeked and then the corners of my mouth curved.
“Haha, good joke dear.” My attention returned to my phone when I heard my mother replied. “Call me when you arrive in Marcella’s house okay? Take care. I love you.”
“Yep, I sure will Ma. Love you too.”
And with that, we ended our conversation. After shoving my iPhone inside my personal bag, I exited the tent and found that the commotion was indeed from my favorite group of children, playing a game of toss-the-can-baseball.
The Benlali Awesome-Brothers! That’s what they have tagged themselves with. It made me smile remembering the youngest of the three brothers pronouncing it ‘ooosum’ - struggling with the words quite clearly. Apparently, that’s one of the few English words they know of, but it was still cute though.
I took in a long deep breath hoping to calm myself down and ease my worries of leaving my work.
Yeah, I am definitely going to miss these three boys and the Augustinian Sisters too. They have become a family to me. I can only hope and pray that going to my Aunt’s house would all be worth it.
After a straight six-hour flight, my plane finally touched down the Luxembourg Fidel Airport at seven twenty-five in the evening.Auntie Marcella had already informed me via email that she had charged someone to pick me up in the airport lounge area. She didn’t specifically tell me if that person was a he or a she, so I was confused on who to look up to when I arrived in the lounge. There were so many people inside the room, mostly tourists I suppose, either waiting for their flight to be called or waiting for whoever would fetch them just like me.I noticed a vacant seat in one corner of the room, so I went straight there. I got only two bags with me; one had my clothes inside, while the other smaller one contained my personal necessities like my cellphone, wallet and passport. Good thing I wore simple jeans, a white blouse and a coat today; at least with this, I wouldn’t feel conscious with the way I sit together with all of these people.
Aunt Marcella’s house can be called a boast if you ask me. The big - no - huge fancy house looks just like those you normally see in Beverly Hills complete with a swimming pool. This one however has a touch of old Renaissance taste, all elements of it including the building, the main facade and the interior. They were all designed into perfection. The marbled floors, the high ceilings, even the furniture were eye-popping. It doesn’t fail to surprise me though considering that her late husband, my Uncle, was a filthy rich man.When I visited here for the first time, I remembered playing house on my own, treating myself as a princess inside a big castle. I enjoyed it very much, especially when my Auntie plays with me, acting like the queen of the castle. They also had a ranch located a kilometer away from the main house. This was where I learned to ride a horse, taught by Uncle Michael Winner himself.By the time Aunt Marcella saw me in the foyer, she
When Eriol said sweet dreams, I honestly hoped to have one. But, it definitely didn’t cross my mind that this was what it would bring me.I woke up in the middle of the night gasping... desperately inhaling for some fresh air. Yes. I had another dream. A WET dream so to speak. Only this time, I felt it was a continuation from the one I had last night and it remained vividly inside my head.I was continuously sucking this man’s d*ck; licking his G.I. Joe’s head in a twirling motion. This alone elicited a groan from his throat. I couldn’t fathom what kind of sensation I was giving him for you know already - I am new at this. But even with this fact, here I am devouring his length like a wanton woman. His shaft was a lovely sight, complete with a web of veins and a head that saluted me with its central pearly white bead. Pre-ejaculation phenomenon I suppose, but who am I to presume? Again, I am new at the sight of a man’s nail. Either way, it taste
I immediately spun around to exit the store feeling partly infuriated, partly embarrassed.Infuriated - with Eriol of course, because he didn’t so much as warn me beforehand that it was a flipping pleasure shop! What kind of a butler is he?!Embarrassed - with myself, because obviously it was my poor choice. How would I know? I am innocent on these kinds of erotica equipment. Never had I seen one before. But now, my eyes felt like it was being ripped out of its sockets and tossed into the holy water to be cleansed.When I was some distance away from the store, I turned around and shot Mr. Hot Butler a cold glare.“You want something Milady?” he smoothly asked. Freaking smoothly asked! The cover of my simmering pot immediately sky-rocketed in the air.“I can’t believe you just let me walk into that store!” I shouted but instantly regretted my move. I immediately looked around and found that some pass
~ Eriol ~ I couldn’t contain myself anymore. Having her near me was alreadypoisonous, how much more if I touch her again? It would be the death of me. But what am I even saying? I am already dead. I am a demon. So what’s the use restricting myself now? What’s the use making myself suffer? I have waited for her for a long time. Such a long,longtime. The three Fates of Hell gave me a clue. They said that mySarahwill be reincarnated in the Anthoni Family, the sixth generation. With that in mind, I set out to infiltrate myself into the family. A butler would definitely be a good idea. I could gather clues and information about her while posing like that, but unfortunately, nothing happened. I waited and waited, almost becoming impatient until the faithful day came. I felt the strong, undeniable connection when I saw her,AndreaAnthoni.
~ Andrea ~ I blinked twice, thrice. Many times, actually. Until my mind registered that I was truly back in my room. Eriol was still holding my arm, so I yanked it free quickly. Lucky for me, he released it, but I had the notion he was hesitant to do so. He cast me a dark look, so intense, so burning that I believed 'phase one' of his threat was on the move. What else would I think? Out of all the places we could go, why in my bedroom, right? But wait, how did we get here in the first place, anyway? “Ho—how did we?” I sputtered, my voice laced with disbelief. I wasn’t dumb not to notice something supernatural had just happened. I certainly don’t believe in vampires, but I feel this was the case.Yeah, me and my brain,and I owe it all to my True Blood and Twilight fangirling. How crazy was that?! “Milady, could you explain to me why you were babysitting that pathetic man?” he asked, ultimately disregarding m
~ Andrea ~ “No. I...I don’t think I can do this,” I said, putting my hands in between us and pushing him slightly backward. Huh! Finally! Some sense coming back to me. But that didn’t so much as linger. It was immediately tossed out of the door when Eriol cupped my butt and effortlessly lifted me up. He strode to my bed and arranged me there. Without delay, he launched himself on top of me and brought his lips back into mine. It was a slow kiss at first, but then it became hard when his tongue darted inside my mouth. On impulse, I sparred with it. I had to reciprocate since his kisses were so good. He sucked my tongue. Made a tornado out of it. And then massaged it with heavenly grace. The twirling of his tongue was similar to a symphony of orchestra; playful and engaging, and I was certainly a captivated audience. Eriol’s hand moved down my thighs and with precision, gathered the hem up to my abdomen. I felt
~ Andrea ~ I woke up in the morning trying to figure out what to do besides doing my routine morning care. I hoped to skip breakfast and just directly leave the house just so that I could avoidhim, but when I checked on my iPhone from the bedside table, I found a message from my aunt telling me she wanted to see me first thing in the morning, and by that, she meant taking breakfast together. I wasn’t hungry, though. Eriol, just as you would expect from a butler, sent a maid into my room with a tray of dinner. That wasafterhe left me feeling, well,fullin a different sense. I thought it was kind of him to do that. He knew I wasn’t able to eat at the charity ball because of Mr. DaisVita’s apparent attention-grabbing stomachache. When I opened the tray, it was full of special dishes better than what I saw at the party. There was also a card in it with my name written on the front and it said,“Thank you