Originally published January 2014 as Smokey Saga #10
Saturday, October 12th, 2013, 9:01 p.m.
Sara scrambled to the front door and wrenched it open. Her best friend Jake stood outside, bags in hand.
“Dude, come on! Get in here!” Sara said hurriedly. “It’s already on!” She grabbed his free hand, yanked him inside, slammed the door shut and practically dragged him into the living room, almost detaching his arm in the process.
It was one of their regular TV nights together. At least once or twice a week, Sara Kelton and Jake Davis met up to spend some quality time with each other, and with the tube. They alternated who would have whom come over: Sara to Jake’s place one time, Jake to Sara’s the next, and so forth—in this case Jake to Sara’s. Their ritual was that the host(ess) would make dinner, and the guest would provide snacks. Hence, Jake toting the chips, corn nuts and cheese curls.
In the middle of the floor was their sacred blanket. For years they’d simulated having an indoor picnic, neither caring much for a visit from hungry bib-clad ants. They kicked off their shoes and sat—or lay—on this massive, plaid red and white tablecloth-looking blanket, remote never more than three or four feet away. The blanket was an absolute must. Besides making things comfier and reducing rug stains, it held a great deal of sentimental value. Besties since childhood and now both 27, they’d been picnicking on this blanket for close to two decades, the tradition having started at Sara’s parents’ house. It was also here they engaged in kiddish activities, such as pillow fights and tickle scuffles—which they occasionally still did as adults. The blanket was growing faded, worn, food-tainted and frayed around the edges, but that only endeared it more to them.
Sometimes they’d have something expressly planned for their viewing pleasure—like this evening—and others they’d just channel-surf. They watched everything: movies, sitcoms, sitdrams, reality shows, news, music videos, documentaries, nature/pet shows, game shows, talk shows, talent shows, just whatever happened to randomly be on. And after a healthy amount of television and less healthy amount of food, they would usually—if only for a short time—fall asleep on the blanket, frequently using each other for pillows.
Tonight was a special event, to which Sara’d obviously been looking very forward. A live concert was being broadcast, performed by her favorite ever pop singer, Velette Voxe, who was on tour promoting her latest album. It was indeed just getting underway as Jake rang the bell. Sara’d already laid out supper—sandwiches and chicken nuggets—by the time he got there.
“You’re late, bro!” Sara assessed as they plopped themselves down. “What took you so long?”
“Well, excuse the heck outta me very much,” chuckled Jake. “They were doing some kind of event at the church. Some kinda…I dunno, bake sale or something.”
“A bake sale? At 9:00 at night?”
“Well, I mean, that’s what it looked like. Could’ve been a Saturday night dinner service for all I know. Anyway, yeah, lotta folks on their way there who, let’s face it, aren’t exactly our age, and…well, you know how fast they drive.” He ripped open a bag. “Should’ve left earlier, I guess, huh?”
“Ah, yeah,” nodded Sara. “When does it become a rule that your age and how fast you drive can’t add up to more than a hundred?”
They piped down as Velette pranced out on stage. Illuminated by the spotlight. Her entrance triggered a deafening collective scream from the first few dozen rows in the amphitheater where she was performing. She shouted an energetic, “GOOD EVENING! HOW THE HELL ARE YA?!!” into the mic. Her band, already on stage, launched into the first number: a hit single called “Can’t You Tell” from the new album. The audience responded with natural enthusiasm and sang along.
Sara worshiped, idolized and was in utter love with Velette. She knew all the Voxe's songs backwards and forwards—even demos, outtakes and rare cuts that didn’t appear on her records. Velette wrote a lot of songs, and while she was an incredibly talented songstress, only the best material available made the albums. She did, though, let fans hear some of her better demos on singles. Some songs Sara and other fans liked best were demos and no more. Sara was such a dedicated fanatic, she timed her bites around the music so she could sing along.
“Damn, what I’d give to feel those lips on me,” Sara gushed during the current song’s instrumental break.
“She is a hottie a’right,” agreed Jake. “Don’t mind if I do myself.”
“Hey. Hands off, buddy; she’s mine,” grinned Sara. “You already have a girl. Besides, Velette’s gay.”
Velette was Sara’s hero, on a number of levels. It was Velette who made Sara realize her own sexuality. Her teen years were incredibly confusing. But once Sara hit her 20s and Velette Voxe the pop scene, there was no longer any question in the young girl’s mind. Velette too reminded her of some of the other great Sapphic singers she knew: she had Amy Ray’s hair, Emily Saliers’ voice, Eva Dahlgren’s cheekbones and Melissa Etheridge’s charisma. And Sara fell for her, drop-dead head over heels over head. The way she masterfully strummed that lucky, lucky guitar, belting those poetic lyrics, in that angelic, super-smoky-hot voice...Sara was unspeakably jealous of that microphone—though probably more the guitar, actually, as it got to go with Velette everywhere and be played by her every night. And Sara wasn’t just in fan-love with Velette as an artist. Any red-blooded chick-chaser could fantasize about her. Sara kept a picture of her on the headboard of her bed, and kissed it every single night without fail. She stroked her fingertips over it and gazed longingly, unable to erase the dream of having Velette Voxe, the queen of her heart, in her bed…in her arms…in her mouth…naked...
A little voice in her mind whom she hated repeatedly told her, “Knock it off; you’re being silly. Come on, she’s a star. She must have thousands of chicks—and dudes—who’d die just to kiss her feet! Forget about her! Move on!”
“I don’t want to move on,” she’d tell the voice. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I like torturing myself wanting her so bad?”
If she had one wish—other than inhaling Velette’s tongue, and ravaging every inch of the idol's body with her own—she couldn’t describe how much she’d love to hear Velette sing her the old Starship song, “Sara.” If anybody could deliver it more beautifully than Mickey, it’d be Velette. But, she’d hardly ever seen or heard Velette do a song that wasn’t her own. And even if she did covers, there were millions upon millions of songs, thousands of new ones created every day. Her chances of having that wish granted were one in a…well, there wasn’t a number high enough. She had a better chance of winning the lottery, twice, and being struck by lightning, twice, on the way to cash in the ticket.
As for Jake, he’d been dating and getting pretty serious with a blonde Danish woman named Hanna, a few years older than he and Sara, and also very stunning. In fact, the first time Jake showed Sara her picture, she whistled. She joked to him, “Y’know, dude, if I didn’t love you so much, I might just have to steal her from you.” They both liked their women just a bit older, and Hanna was relatively close to Velette’s age. Jake joked back, “If she didn’t love being straight so much, I might just have to let’cha.”
The girlfriend-stealing part was indeed the two of them just kidding with each other, but the love part wasn’t. Their friendship had only solidified more and more in the last twenty years. Like lots of best buddies, they had fights sometimes, but nothing big enough to overcome their mutual fondness. In fact, seven years ago, when Sara discovered she was a lesbian—albeit one of the more daunting things she’d done in her life—her pal Jake was the first person she came out to. She’d been doing some mental (and actual) nail-biting speculating at his reaction. But as soon as she announced, “Jake…I’m gay,” he automatically hugged her. And he told her he loved her because she was his friend, no matter what. She felt a warm smile lift her face.
“So you don’t think that’s…y’know, whatever?” she shyly asked.
Jake’s precise answer to this question was, “Oh! Babe, are you kidding? Trust me, the appeal of a beautiful girl’s not lost on me!”
Sara laughed. She couldn’t believe she’d been worried in the first place. She was so elated so wanted to cry. Oh, how could I ever doubt Jake? she thought. How could I wonder if he wouldn’t still love me? Jake since held the proud distinction of being her “lesbro.” One of the best things about their friendship was that both being gynephilic, they had very similar taste in women. So being out together or alone, they could both keep an eye out possibly to find a cute girl for Sara.
As October progressed, however, it was Jake who found himself apprehensive. Sara’s birthday was coming in a few weeks, on November 19th. And he was running out of options for something really nice to get her. Realistically, he knew she didn’t expect anything, as usually just hanging out together proved sufficient. Taking her out to dinner and/or a movie would be a lovely gift in and of itself. It was just that…well, he didn’t know how she did it, but year after year, Sara always managed to find Jake something for his birthday he never would’ve thought of, but ending up loving. And he'd made good numerous times in the past. He just really wanted to be able to return the favor, to paint that unduplicable joyful expression on her face. Even though deep down, they both knew the only way he could disappoint her was by completely forgetting. And clearly that wasn’t going to happen.
Birthdays were a big thing with Jake, as was gift-giving in general. He was picky and exacting with himself when it came to finding gifts, and when he dug up something that finally satisfied him, it was a rewarding feeling. All of which made it exasperating when he gave a gift and was “thanked” with the standard recipient expression: “Oh, you didn’t have to do thaaaat!” Almost as if rejecting the present. Jake understood they were being polite and non-presumptuous. But though he never would, he wanted to say, “Well, y’know what, actually, I did. See, this is what’s typically called a birthday (or Christmas). And we’ve got a little something known as a tradition.” Sometimes when the givee expressed this sentiment, he amused himself with the idea of shrugging, “Okay,” and yanking it right back out of their hands...though he'd never do that either.
As many times as he reminded himself Sara’d hardly be heartbroken if he couldn’t find a monumental blockbuster gift…this thought was succeeded every time by, …but how proud would I be of myself if I did? For tonight, though, he settled in with her to enjoy the concert. This would be an exceptional evening—for Sara—in that no matter how much they chowed down, she was totally jazzed and pumped watching her heroine knock the crowd’s proverbial socks off. And she wouldn’t be able to sleep for a good while no matter what. Had the program been of similar significance to Jake, natch, it would be he who couldn’t sleep. So circa 11:00, as the concert was winding to a close, Jake yawned and laid down and catch a few ‘z’s. So Sara retrieved a pillow to slip under his head, an afghan comforter from the couch to drape over his body, and tucked him in snug. Then she turned the volume down and went to get her headphones to finish watching.
Sunday, October 13th, 2013, 9:43 a.m.
As last night was a fortuitous Saturday, they were both off work today. Shortly after 1:00, when Sara was finally ready to hit the sack, she gave Jake a shake awake so he could drag himself up onto the much comfier couch. They ended up spending the night on each other’s couches pretty often on TV nights.
Jake logically got up first. He jaunted into the kitchen to get something going for breakfast, another perfected sleepover practice. He flipped on the radio to a local Top 40 station in the middle of an ’80s weekend, halfway through a Madonna song. He checked out the contents in the fridge and freezer, and took out some waffles and sausage.
Sara was still asleep. But a few minutes later, the scents of a hot appetizing breakfast wafted into her room, kissed her on the nose and tickled her nostrils. She blinked awake, kicked off the covers and floated out towards the aroma.
Jake heard her approach. “Yo, sis,” he called.
“Hi, bro,” she yawned. “What’cha makin’?”
“Tops.” She culled a chair from the dining room table and poured herself in. Already set on the table were utensils, syrup and glasses of milk.
The station returned from commercial. The DJ said something neither of them heard clearly over the sound of sausage frying. But subsequently, on came a classic rock ballad Sara recognized within ten seconds. Her knowledge, interest and collection of pop music were staggering, all of which she was very proud. She thought she could discern the melody on the keyboards. But when that unmistakable harmonica jumped in and shot up, so did her head with a gasp.
“OhmyGod!” she exclaimed. “There it is! Starship! That’s my song!”
Jake looked up from the almost-done meal to listen. “Oh yeah, it is! Didn’t Mickey write that?”
“No, no, he didn’t actually write it himself, but he named it after his wife Sara, and my parents named me after the song,” Sara replied. She went into vocal mode and started belting out along with the radio.
“Well, you’re up,” chuckled Jake, fixing the plates.
“God, would I freakin’ love to hear Velette sing this,” Sara exulted. For obvious reason, it was one of her all-time favorite songs, if not the absolute number one on her list. She had the Knee Deep In The Hoopla album—on vinyl and CD—but she intentionally didn’t play the song very often. She never wanted its novelty to wear off.
“Yeah,” agreed Jake, serving. “Well, the lady does have a pretty dynamite voice.”
“She has a dynamite everything.” Sara forked one of the links, making a groping gesture with her other hand. “Hell, you saw that rack on her. I mean, they've gotta be at least Cs, right? They make me wish my hands were bigger, know what I mean?”
Sara loved how frankly, honest and easy she could talk to Jake about this kind of thing, about how hot other girls were. Jake chuckled along, but under the table he crossed his legs, girl-style, even though she couldn’t see the…excitement she was giving him with her girl-on-girl rack talk. Hey, stop that, he scolded himself. The whole reason she’s telling you this is ’cause it doesn’t have to be weird between you, and ’cause you can relate. She’s your friend, for heck’s sake. You’re not supposed to be turned on by your friend. Thankfully, Sara stopped describing Velette’s tits, and returned to singing. And Jake’s “excitement” softened away.
Breakfast was concluded. They tidied up, and Jake got his shoes and jacket. They folded the blanket, which Jake also took with him for next time, and he was off. “All right, Sare,” he hugged her. “Love ya, babe, see ya later.”
“Love you too, dude,” she said.
Halfway back out to his car, he stopped for a second.
Sunday, October 13th, 2013, 10:18 p.m.
Another twelve hours, another day well-spent. Sara had some shopping to do, another errand or three, and a little housework to take care of. Jake had something a bit more ambitious in mind.
After leaving Sara’s, he went home and jumped online. He navigated to the web site and checked out the links. He clicked, perused, clicked some more, perused some more, scribbled a few things down on a sticky pad, logged off...and picked up the phone.
When it came to things like this, Jake Davis had more of an advantage than most. He worked for a PR firm, and knew a thing or two about networking. So he’d something of a conduit to others who could make things happen. And as luck would have it, a friend of a friend of a promoter happened to owe him a favor. A few well-placed phone calls (and a visit for a word with said promoter) later—recent notice though it was, with the favor his friend owed him—they’d managed, as if by magic, to summon and successfully book her, to Juniper’s major event venue, The Silverlight…on Tuesday night…November 19th.
It was quite a fortunate thing her schedule just happened to be open between the 18th and 20th.
Monday, November 18th, 2013, 11:24 p.m.
Sara moooooaned in her bed.
She squeezed her paws between her legs, as she gave it to herself (or jilled off, as she affectionately called it) like she wouldn’t see tomorrow. The next day was her birthday. And she had to go to work—a drag, but a small price to pay. Boring though it was, she hardly loathed her office job. Besides, they’d probably throw her a little party.
There was a smaller TV in her bedroom, with a built-in DVD player. Inside was a Velette Voxe DVD, with songs performed live, music videos, backstage features, interviews and other goodies. In an especially frisky mood the day before she filled another year, Sara’d injected the disc, and frozen it on a particularly appealing still shot of her Goddess, looking right into the camera with a sultry smirk that knocked her out figuratively—but at the rate she was rubbing herself raw to it, would soon do so literally. Thank goodness the DVD could stay on a still shot indefinitely, because that was about as long as Sara could go till she was down for the night.
Usually in the span of a decent masturbating session, she could achieve either two or three pretty good orgasms, or one big knockout killergasm. It all depended on her mood, how much she was willing to tease herself, and concentration. She liked to cover herself with the comforter, so she could pretend someone else’s—a specific someone else’s—hand was down there setting her pussy on fire. Making believe it wasn’t her own hand was palpably kinkier and more fun. One day when inspiration struck, she imagined Velette slipped into her room, took her wrists, pinned them together over her head with one hand, and forcefully stroked her inside and out with the other, holding her down so she couldn’t do anything about it whether she wanted to or not. It proved such a spicy fantasy, she now used it virtually every time she wanted, needed and craved that big climactic release.
As she built to the apex, she felt like a change of scenery, so to speak. So she found another spot on the disc with a few seconds of hot footage that turned her on, and set the player on “A-B” mode, so it jumped back to those few seconds, playing them over and over. She loved how convenient technology was. Around the same time, her right hand, doing all the work, was getting tired. So she reached up to her headboard, retrieved her vibrator and gave her fingers a break.
Once her pussy was ready, she activated the clit stimulator. Her brain lost its grip on the rest of her. It was a little harder to focus on the TV now that her eyes were pinching shut, then blinking open to blurriness. Her groans loudened as the electric tingle from her cunt rode up and started dancing over her in all directions. She slid down from her sitting position and whapped her head on the pillow, howling in wild giddiness. Her entire body started twitching, jerking uncontrollably, making small waves in the mattress. Once she could no longer see the TV at all, she did her best to hold images of Velette in her mind’s eye, and desirously chanted her name.
“Ve—…le—…fu—…m—…plea—…” she spastically wheezed. Again, she imagined the vibrator was Velette’s powerfully, rhythmically skilled hand. Or yet better, also her tongue. The room rose in temperature with her radiating body heat and running sweat.
A miniature wave of passion drenched her.
“Yes!” she declared. “Yes…more…mooooore…” she strained to her pussy. “My…GODDESSSSSS…Ve-…lehhhhhtte…”
A larger, more powerful wave hit.
“OHHHHYES!” Sara shrieked. She knew it was upon her now. She saw the next wave coming. It picked her up and slammed her on the shore. Heaven’s shore.
The waves rapidly doubled in Vel-ocity and tripled in intensity. Each forthcoming came like Vel-vet heat, drowning her deeper and deeper in marVel-ous splendor, making her dance in Vel-lication. Such was the wondrous nature of her orgasms—it was so much for her to take that she couldn’t bear it, and yet also didn’t want it to ever end.
Finally, the big knockout killer—the wavegasm—seized her, gripped her, rocked her like a hurricane, spun her in its dizzying swell, mercifully let her go uncountable seconds later…and put her out like a light.
She was down for the count. She fell dead asleep, the DVD player still replaying over and over.
Tuesday, November 19th, 2013, 3:11 a.m.
The nonstop DVD loop finally dug deep enough into Sara’s brain to wake her, and she reached to shut it off. As she did so, switching off the TV, plunging herself into total darkness, she heard the soft Voice of a Goddess greet—
“Happy Birthday, Sara.”
Sara gasped. She fumbled around for the lamp. “Wh-who is it? Who’s there?” she anxiously called out.
“Turn on the light and find out.”
At last, she located it. She flipped on the lamp, squinted until the light no longer stung, and her face transformed to a portrait of shock and awe. She had to blink at least a dozen times to make sure she was really seeing what her mind registered. But it was true, as before her disbelieving eyes swam…
A pajama-clad Velette Voxe smiled at her matter-of-factly. “Who else?”
“O—my Go—but h—what d—You—You coul—how di—”
Sara was at a total loss for any sense-making words. Dulled as her faculties already were, they were flat-out obliterated by this revelation.
“Don’t worry, Sara,” She told the girl softly. “You’re just having a dream.”
Sara looked around her room. Sure enough, things did look distorted, fuzzy and out of place from her normal arrangement. She looked up, and across the ceiling were glow-in-the-dark star stickers that weren’t there before. And she’d fallen asleep naked, but found herself now wearing a set of plaid red and white jammies. Faded, worn and frayed jammies. And here was a cat, with a black coat and white paws perched beside her on the bed. A cat whom she’d never seen before, but somehow knew was named Dewdrop. So this was a dream. “…Oh,” she finally said. She didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed. Maybe both. Either way, she just hoped she didn’t wake up soon.
“But…I-I’ve dreamt about You before,” said Sara. “…And, I couldn’t talk to You like this those other times.”
“That’s because this dream is lucid,” Dream-Velette explained.
“Oh,” Sara repeated. “Well, how does that happen?”
“Sara, sweetheart, I’m a singer, not a hypnotist.”
“Oh…right,” Sara replied with a nervous chuckle, still disoriented by it all. “Well…oh my gosh, I mean…I-I don’t even know what to say…or-or where to start,” she said. “I mean, there’s...there's just so much I wanna tell You, and ask You, and-and…”
Dream-Velette climbed onto her bed on all fours with her, to Sara’s widening eyes. Sara glanced back to where the cat was before, but it was gone.
“It’s on the TV,” Dream-Velette saucily whispered, on Her hands and knees. She gave Sara a little eye candy, shaking Her pleasingly large, round, cleavage-bared breasts in Her nightgown.
Sara looked, and reacted with a start. There Dewdrop was all right, purring, swishing his tail just as before, but the pattern of his fur was reversed. Now he had a white coat and black paws. She looked back at her Goddess with an even bigger start. Dream-Velette’s pajamas were gone. She was in Sara’s bed, on Her side…naked. Completely…gloriously…stark naked. She stared sultrily at Sara, a bit of comforter between Her luscious thighs, an arm just barely covering Her nipples. Sara’s gaze tilted down, and fell on the shadow of Velette’s perking nipples. She instinctively shut her mouth and swallowed to keep from salivating.
“OHHHMY…” Sara breathed. The relieved/disappointed debate was gone. She now wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or thrilled.
Dream-Velette nodded at her with a suggestive smile. “Nice curves.”
Sara looked down to observe that she was suddenly nude as well. She let out a small scream and grabbed for the comforter to cover herself. Jumping back onto the bed to slink by once more, the cat now wore their pajamas.
Distracted by Dewdrop, Sara did not notice Dream-Velette’s hand sneaking beneath the comforter, until it cupped one of her girls. She gasped again, with an inaudible moan as her eyes closed and her head slid back. Velette leaned in closer to her.
“Goodbyes for time good a is time no,” Dream-Velette exhaled in Sara’s ear, fondling her shoulder and rubbing her tummy.
Sara’s face turned to momentary confusion. She gazed into Her eyes. “…Huh?”
“Yes, my love?” she huskily whispered.
“Eyes your in brewing are storms,” continued Dream-Velette. “Sara…Sara.”
Those words rang a bell. “Oh!” Sara said silently, suddenly realizing what was happening. Velette was reciting the words to the beloved Starship song to her, but in reverse. She began to feel very charmed by it all.
“Oh, yes, more, more! Please, keep going!” Sara urged Her excitedly.
“True come won’t dream a…ice and fire we’re…two takes it endings happy for…you like girl another find never I’ll,” chanted Dream-Velette, taking a well-timed pause between each line. Under normal circumstances this would sound absurd and laughable, but in her unconscious, surreal state, Sara found herself adoring it, more and more with every word. Especially as Dream-Velette touched her, while reciting the song. She wanted to grab Velette, to pin Her to the bed and smother Her with kisses, showing just how much she loved Her, but…not just yet. She just wanted this exquisite moment to last a little longer.
“Anymore me loved nobody, Sara, Sara and…more me hurt ever could one no, me hurt Sara and…before me loved ever has one no like me loved Sara and…” The Goddess caressed Sara, who melted at Her touch like a handful of M&Ms. Her face read pure heavenly wonderment and none other. She closed her eyes and sank dreamily into the brachial cradle, safe and warm in Velette’s arms, wishing to be nowhere else but here forever. “My Goddess, I adore You,” she soundlessly breathed, taking in the intoxicating scent of Her hair. Eyes closed, she shifted her position and reached to take Dream-Velette in her embrace, but instead felt something different. She opened her eyes to find herself hugging a four-foot teddy bear. She emitted a yelp and let go. It rolled off the bed.
“Velette?” she asked. “Darling? Velette, my love, where are You?”
“I’m behind you, Sara,” came the lovely omniscient Voice. Sara rolled in the other direction to see Her there, still in naked perfection. Keeping her eyes open this time, she kicked all inhibitions to the curb and threw her arms around Dream-Velette. Sara thought she noticed that while the door to her bedroom was in the same spot, the rest of the furniture and all else had shifted position, now to the other side. But who cared…once she dared bring her lips close enough to touch her Goddess, she shut her eyes again. Dream-Velette kissed back, and Sara summoned all the strength she could to clutch Velette in her grasp, wrapping her legs around Hers, pressing tight, squeezing hard as possible, wanting to meld their bodies together. She couldn’t believe it. It was her dream come true…sort of. It was more like her dream come dream…but it felt real enough to be true. And that was good enough.
They kissed. They fondled. They rubbed, stroked, tickled, caressed. They interlocked limbs, digits, tongues. Juices flowed, passion soared. Four dizzied eyes, four hungry lips, four heaving breasts, four roving hands, two hot, wet pussies. I…cannot…believe it, Sara mentally rejoiced. I…AM MAKING LOVE…TO VELETTE VOXE!! The mere thought and its accompanying realization immediately just about culled two twingasms out of her. Her zeal came out audibly, in the form of happy, giggling squeaks.
In a moment of brazen moxie, she gulped, mustered the courage and brought her quivering paw down to Dream-Velette’s thigh. Her trembling fingers snuck between Her legs to unlock the forbidden territory...begging Velette for the key to Her divine womanhood.
To her surprise, as she’d barely time to process that she was actually, physically, literally touching…Velette…Voxe’s…pussy…even if it was a dream…Dream-Velette reciprocated, and placed Her hand between Sara’s smoldering thighs, fingering her pussy in return.
Sara went insane. Feeling Her touch in the spot she secretly wanted touched more than anything, she broke the kiss and screamed in unadulterated lust—no less than a hormone-charged, desire-surging shriek. Her hand involuntarily lost its place exploring Velette, as her body defenselessly surrendered on her back, but Velette’s did not. Sara felt Her ease into her labia and slowly up and down her slit. And powerless to do a thing, she was now both terrified and thrilled (though she had no idea what was terrifying her). She pulsated just as before when she’d been jilling off to Her. But having the act performed on her by Velette’s hand, her precise fantasy come sublimely true…there were no words to describe this.
She opened her eyes to see no Dream-Velette anymore, though she still felt the pleasurable sensations. She looked down for a single second, but was afforded no more than this.
Velette tongued her clit.
HOLY GODDESS! her mind cried. And she thought she had been going crazy before. The bed now floated in an atmosphere of nothingness. Sara flailed with immeasurable euphoria, aimlessly swatting a pillow, sending it tumbling down into the bottomless void. Identical piercing shrieks followed. She felt one of Velette’s hands inching inside her, and the other with a single fingertip, like a drop of water, massaging her leg, to the foot, the tops of the toes, down the sole…Sara tensed up, thinking it would tickle something terrible, but it felt so good she could’ve died the happiest woman on Earth.
Her hands gripped at the sheet, scratching and groping for something to grab onto. As the sensations just built and built, further and further still, so did her imagination, and the elements in the dream. Had she opened her eyes at that second, she would have seen the star stickers on her ceiling become actual stars, and a blue-furred, pink-pawed Dewdrop trotting across them.
Sara wished to herself she could feel Velette’s tongue coating her ripe red pussy, and also in her mouth at the same time. One second later, lo and behold, she felt exactly this. Her open mouth filled once more with Velette’s tongue, both dancing in a frenzy surrounded by lips and teeth, and yet down there it was as well—the same omnipotent tongue deliciously continuing to electrify Sara’s autolubricated cunt…teasing her…tantalizing her up and down. She didn’t dare open her eyes. She didn’t want to do anything to risk compromising the magic of this miracle.
She could not, however, hold her mind back from making another wish.
Should I wish for Her hands to caress me too?
Another second later, once again, wish granted. UNBELIEVABLE, Sara mentally celebrated. She felt as if an angel held her suspended by the breasts and pussy. PLEASE…OH, PLEASE, GODDESS…DON’T EVER LET ME WAKE UP.
In the midst of the dream, it was hard to know if she was approaching orgasm at all…or to care. Am I cumming…am I not cumming…oh, what could possibly feel better than this anyway… she ecstatically sighed. Stop analyzing it, Sara. Just enjoy it.
But then she thought she must have experienced an orgasm. Because though the action itself did not cool down a bit, Sara somehow got her powers of logic and speech back. Now able to form coherent words again, she began professing her feelings for Velette in and around their tongue-mingling. She was pleasantly surprised at how easily it all came pouring out once she got started.
“I love You…I love You, oh, how I love You…Velette, my angel…I-I—oh, my Goddess…I adore You, Velette, I…I worship You…You’re the empress of my heart, Velette…You stole it, the first time I saw Your face. I am in…indescribable love with You. Velette…Velette, marry me. Be my mate…run away with me…anywhere, anytime. I’ll do anything, to be with You. Anything…whatever it takes…I’d die for You. Just stay with me forever, Velette…please be mine. Please say You love me too, Velette. Please, love me…tell me, how I can make You love me…Velette, Darling…my life…my sweet…I can’t live, without You…I…I adore You.”
All circumstances surrounding her abruptly came together. Sara was spun out of her dimension, end over end over end, until she at last floated back to her bed, back in her room…from the throes of what could only be termed a dreamgasm.
Silence. Something felt different. Sara slowly opened her eyes, praying the Goddess was still with her. “…Velette?” she asked cautiously.
A smiling Dream-Velette indeed lay, still sprawled on the bed with Sara, half on Her side, half on Her back, eyes closed, Her magnificent—and in fact D-size breasts, Sara now doubtlessly determined, forcing herself to unglue her eyes from them—rising and falling with subtle, almost unnoticeable breath. Another minute passed before She finally answered.
“I love you too, Sara.”
Gasp. A balloon of elation swelled inside Sara. Yet another, different sort of orgasm shook her fragile world. She was so overjoyed she couldn’t control her breath. “Y—…You do??”
“I do,” purred Dream-Velette. “And now…I want you…to touch Me. Like I’ve never been touched before. I want you to thrill Me like no woman has ever thrilled another woman. I want you to storm Me, Sara Jane Kelton. Make Me explode with passion.”
Sara’s heart started going a mile a second. She climbed atop Velette, wishing she had a flag to plant. So excited she could barely get the words out, she cried, “YES, my Goddess! YES, my flame! Your command is my wish!”
She descended, unable to believe it. It was too good to be true! She rubbed her hot naked body on Velette’s, dying to hear more words of adulation and desire. “Velette…love…” she breathed—
“…Tell me that You love me again. Keep telling me. Don’t ever stop.”
Dream-Velette’s mouth opened. But suddenly…just as Sara Kelton thought she’d just been supernaturally given everything she ever wanted…something very different, and unexpected happened.
Sara did not hear exactly what she wanted to hear. Velette emitted a strange noise that sounded like…a car honking. And…it kept going…over and over again. Every second, in fact. Sara hopped back up and off. WHAT the… She tried to call out her Goddess’ name, but nothing changed. Just this bizarre, loud noise over and over again, every instant. It was scaring her. She tried to close her eyes and try the wish technique and rewind things to where they were before…but she was very abruptly, very quickly losing the dream. Velette faded before her. She looked around for Dewdrop, but he was nowhere to be found. And the dissonant noise went on and on, disturbing her tranquility. She blinked a few more times, opened her eyes, saw nothing but blackness…and…poof.
Velette was gone. Another moment later, Sara found herself on her back in bed. Her eyes popped open to see a dark ceiling. It was normal. Her eyes darted to see that everything else was normal as well. Then she realized what the repetitive noise was. It was 7:00.
And in her arms she desperately clutched…one of her pillows.
She miserably shut her sleepy eyes, dropping her head on the other pillow with a whimper of agony and disenchantment. She let the one in her arms drop in the mattress, and pounded it with a frustrated fist.
“Damn it!...” she woefully groused. It was too good to be true after all.
Tuesday, November 19th, 2013, 8:47 p.m.
Jake sat behind the wheel, proudly driving Sara on the way to her birthday present. At his request, Sara was wearing a blindfold, as he wanted her to be as mindblown as possible. She kept feeling the urge to yank it off, but made herself honor his wishes.
“Ja-ake!” she giggled. “Why won’t you tell me where we’re going?”
“Y’know, Birthday Girl, I don’t think you fully understand the concept of a surprise,” he lovingly chided her.
Ten minutes later, they arrived. Thankfully, there were no churches with bake sales or dinner services going on around here. Jake must’ve checked his pocket every thirty seconds to make sure he had the tickets. There was now just one more ticket to collect as he pulled into the parking garage.
“Whoa!” exclaimed Sara, feeling the incline as they rode up inside. “Where are we?”
“You’re gonna see…” he told her, in a playful, semi-singsong tone. He took the parking ticket, placed it in his glove box, found a space and parked. “Okay, you can take it off now.”
Sara did so, seeing naught but the inside of a parking garage.
“…Um…wow…" she evaluated. "This is, eh…really really really terrific, Jake.”
“This is also really really really not it, ya goofball,” Jake said, poking her in the side. “It’s time to get out and walk now. C’mon.”
Back outside, Jake led her hand-in-hand around the corner to where they could cross a few streets and reach The Silverlight. He idly checked his pocket one last time. Finally, they saw the marquee in clear view.
APPEARING TONIGHT: VELETTE VOXE 9:00 P.M.
Sara blinked and rubbed her eyes. “…What??” she said. “Velette’s here?? I…I didn’t think she played here!”
Jake took the tickets from his pocket. “Well, gee, I hope you’re wrong, sis. I shelled out some good money for these babies.”
Sara gasped so loud at the sight, it turned into a mousey squeak. Jake smiled.
“No…way!” she whispered. “No, freaking, WAY!!”
“Freaking way,” he teased her in a mocking tone.
Her voice shot into whistle range. “Fr—…front row?!...OHMYGOD!” she screeched. She flung her arms around him. “I LOVE YOU!!” she hollered. Harnessing a physical strength inside her she didn’t even know existed, she actually lifted him off the ground. “IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou!”
She put him back down and proceeded to leap three feet into the air with a celebratory cheer. Jake waited a second after she landed.
“Sara, could you please cheer up a little about this?”
She laughed, giving him a light swat on the arm. “Oh my gosh, this is nuts!” she said, unable to get over it. “How did you get ’em??”
“Oh, well, I…know a guy, who…knows a guy, who, eh…pulled a few strings for me.” He cleared his throat, not yet wanting to give away any more information. “Well, then…” He held out his arm for her. “Shall we?”
Tuesday, November 19th, 2013, 10:11 p.m.
It was a little more than halfway through the show, and had been pretty spectacular thus far. Jake was a bit surprised himself to see just how absolutely jam-packed it was, but then, he reminded himself, Velette was a pretty amazing pop phenom.
Sara, needless to say, was in heaven. She crooned, belted and warbled with all the other die-hard Voxe fans, at the top of their collective lungs. Jake may not have known the songs so well, but hadn’t much trouble getting into the spirit of things. A few times—like at the end of just about every song—he felt like his eardrums were going to be blown out, but it was worth it. He’d given his best friend the gift of a lifetime…and it was almost complete. He just hoped the one last surprise he’d arranged didn’t go awry.
Another hour of show elapsed. It was only supposed to go till 11:00, but as with lots of rock shows, Velette and her band wanted to keep hanging out with the crowd just a little longer, and then just a little bit longer still. And the feeling couldn’t have been more mutual. With six Voxe albums released so far in the course of Velette’s seven-year career, they had no shortage of numbers to choose from. They could have played all night. But as he surreptitiously checked his cell for the time, Jake was getting a little nervous. He really hoped things would go as planned.
Another song was concluded. Finally, Velette said, “Thank you for a wonderful evening!” The crowd again erupted in cheers.
She continued when they calmed down. “Well, I don’t know about you, but this has been one of the greatest nights of my life, and, uh…”
Another huge cheer. Velette slipped her guitar off by its strap. A crew member came in from stage right and Velette handed it to him. She took the mic out of the stand and said, “…I’d like to finish up tonight with a little something special for you guys.”
Yet one more wave of applause. Whew, thought Jake, applauding with everyone else.
“Someone who helped throw things together tonight has asked a small request of us,” she said. “I understand we’ve got a birthday girl here tonight, named…Sara?”
There were cheers from a few other pockets of the audience. Apparently there were a couple birthdays being celebrated here tonight, and a few other Saras in the audience too. Jake took (his) Sara’s hand and raised it. “Right here!” he called up to Velette. “She’s right here!” Some high-pitched screaming shot up from the people right around them. He turned to Sara, turning a little red, trying to hold back from grinning too much. He couldn’t begin to describe the look (his) Sara was giving him.
Velette looked down to see her. “Well, hey, Sara!” She paused a second for effect. “You wanna come up on stage with me?”
The audience just about died. They were absolutely beside themselves. But still not quite as much as the girl of honor herself. She felt tears coming on. She wanted to scream, but didn’t think she could produce any sound. She looked back and forth between Jake and Velette, not knowing what to do. Well, of course she wanted to come up on stage, but was so overwhelmed by the sheer reality of the situation. Was THIS a dream? She was about to pinch herself, but the audience members around her and Jake started urging her up.
“Oh, I think she’s a little shy,” Velette told the crowd. She gestured with her free hand for just what she said next: “Let's give her a little encouragement, huh??”
Another explosion of cheers. Jake leaned up to Sara’s ear and shouted, “I think you better do what they’re saying.”
Sara still couldn’t bring herself to say a word. She looked up to see Velette holding her hand down to her. Naturally unable to believe it, Sara reached her trembling hand up, to touch Velette’s. The next she felt was her fellow Voxers lifting her up, almost as if she were crowd-surfing. Velette helped her the rest of the way, and the next thing she knew, she was, in fact, on stage. Standing right next to her…touching—still holding!—the hand of her idol. Sharing the same air with her. Two feet of space between them.
“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Sara!” said Velette. “So how old are you today?”
She held out the mic to her. But Sara was still breathing too heavily to get any words out. Jake jumped in for her.
“Uh—28! She’s 28!” he called up.
“Oh!” said Velette, “Hey, so you must be her buddy, uh…”
“Jake! Right!” said Velette. “Well, ladies and gents, I understand Jake here had something to do with bringing our little show to your beautiful city tonight. How ’bout a hand for ’im?”
She barely even got out the request. After the word “tonight,” the audience had already exploded in applause yet one more time. The audience members around Jake suddenly all began shaking his hand, hugging him, patting his shoulder...which made him slightly self-conscious. Though he might have been a hero to Juniper’s Velette fans this evening, he felt a tad embarrassed, Velette having spilled the big secret. He looked up modestly at Sara, and once again, there were no words sufficient to describe the look on her face. “Stunned” would almost aspire to covering it. Uh-oh, he thought. I hope she doesn’t want me to come up on stage too. He just didn’t want to take any of the magic away from Sara’s big moment.
Thankfully, Velette must have known what he was thinking, because she just continued. “And, uh…he’s asked if we might do one song in particular for his galpal, our guest of honor tonight.” She gestured to Sara, who was turning so red she was almost maroon. “So, if it’s all right with you guys…” said Velette, to the audience’s delight. They shrieked out another unisonous cheer.
“I think that’s a yes!” Velette confirmed for her band. “Hit it!”
The keyboardist launched into the opening chords, in B-flat major. The first notes provoked cheers from scattered portions of the audience. But just like with Sara herself, once the harmonica player stepped up to the microphone beside Velette, and leapt in with the beautiful scale descent leading into the lyrics, the entire crowd practically went crazy.
Velette intentionally had the band hold off at this moment, waiting for the audience to calm down. She then signaled to the drummer, who counted them back in, tapping the sticks together, “One, two, three, four—”
And off they went. Velette spun back around to gaze into Sara’s awestruck eyes, and sang to her.
“Go now!…Don’t look back, we’ve drawn the line,” she crooned, reclasping Sara’s hand. She held the mic extra close, making herself audible above the crowd’s earsplitting cries. “Move on…it’s no good to go back in time…”
Suddenly, Sara got her voice back. And she screamed right along with the rest of the audience. Right before the next line, Velette momentarily whirled back to the audience and said, “Come on, help me out! Sing it if ya know it!”
“I’ll never find another girl like you…” a sizable chunk of the crowd serenaded her. “…For happy endings, it takes two…we’re fire and ice, a dream won’t come true—”
Back to the audience Velette turned for another second. “'Right, here’s the chorus; now let her hear it!”
Sara felt her heart swell until it was about to burst. Oh my Goddess, she thought. It was about to happen.
“Sar-a, Sar-a…” the audience chanted along with Velette. “Storms are brewing in your eyes…”
Sara couldn’t hold it back any longer. She collapsed on her knees, let the floodgates open and out broke the unstoppable tears of joy. A bit of sweet “awww”-ing came from some of the audience amid the singing.
“Sar-a-a-a-a-a, Sar-a…no time is a good time for goodbyes…”
On went the song: second verse, second chorus, bridge. When they reached the mid-section where the percussion temporarily cut off, Velette shouted, “Okay, your turn! Come on, give it to her!” She held out the mic to the crowd. Sara wiped her wet eyes and smiled in coy appreciation. And then back to the full arrangement with the whole band they returned. They did a few more choruses, ad-libbing the end, staying as true to the original Starship version as possible…finally, they brought down the tempo. And Velette got down on her knees with Sara, to sing her name one last time, drawing it out in a long, final, glorious note.
As the audience went wild, Sara lightly shook her head in disbelief, looking into Velette’s eyes, and proceeded to bow to her. As she got back up, Velette helped her to her feet and embraced her. The part of Sara’s brain that could still think told her, Say something!
“I love you,” she hollered to Velette in tears. “I love you so much…do you have any idea how much…I just love you.” She started blubbering again, actually now in real life laying it all out for her. It was truly…a miracle.
“Happy Birthday, Sara,” said Velette into the mic, once they broke from the embrace. “Let’s give her a hand, huh?!”
Things could not have worked out better. Wow, exhaled an almost equally exhilarated Jake, who’d shed a few tears himself, smiling up at Sara. She made her way down off the stage, threw her arms around him and just about tackled him in the most crushing hug he’d ever received, prompting some more affectionate reactions.
“THANK YOU EVERYBODY, HAVE A GREAT NIGHT!” Velette yelled. The rest of the band joined her at the edge of the stage, joined hands, took a bow, and gave the audience a round of applause back.
Jake had indeed achieved what he planned; Sara’s life was made.
Wednesday, November 20th, 2013, 12:03 a.m.
Sara was still crying three-quarters of the way back home.
“Tell me what I ever did to deserve you,” she gushed.
Obviously very pleased with himself, Jake said, “It’s all right, sis, really. Just seeing you that happy’s thanks enough for me.”
Sara shook her head looking at him, fondly holding on to his non-driving arm.
“You do realize I’m never gonna be able to give you anything that good your entire life,” she informed him.
“Also thanks enough. See? I win.” They both giggled.
“And to top it all off, I met a girl!” said Sara. She took the sliver of paper from her purse, with the name, number and E-mail of a cute brunette at the concert who came up to her to congratulate her. Her name was Melleny, and she lived about fifteen minutes away, not actually too far from Sara’s parents. She told Sara if she wasn’t seeing anyone, and if she wanted, to give her a call. Or shoot her a message.
“Hey, what better place?” asked Jake. The prospect of Sara hunting down a nice chick-loving chick (without even trying) hadn’t occurred to him at the time, back when he set up the booking with the promoter. But now as he thought about it, it made pretty good sense there’d be a lot of other cute, young, sexy babes to be found at Velette Voxe’s concert, in whom Sara’d be potentially interested, and vice versa. What a sweet little bonus that was.
Hey, what if they hooked up together? Jake pondered. What if they became an item, and one day, one thing led to another, and… He honestly didn’t initiate these thoughts; they swam into his mind unbidden. He again started to get turned on. Jake, STOP that!
“Just one more time, thank you, thank you SO much, Jake,” Sara sniffled out, feeling in a way like they were back in elementary school together again. “You’re the best friend in the whole wide world.”
He smiled with a modest nod. “Don’t like to toot my own horn, but I do have to admit…I did pretty good this time.”
He returned her home. They hugged, exchanged their pecks on the cheek, and Jake asked, “You want me to come in?”
“Oh, uh…not tonight, if it’s okay, babe,” said Sara. “I’m gonna be a little…” she shifted her eyes back and forth, trying to delicately say what she wanted to say.
“But hey, I’ll see you tomorrow night at 8:00, your place?”
“Awesome,” he confirmed as Sara got out. “Love you, sis.”
“Love you, bro.” She shut the car door. He waited for her to go inside and wave from the door, then headed home himself.
Sara kicked off her shoes, dropped her purse, and left her clothes in a trail to her room. Though she’d never admit it, her eyes were not the only part of her that had gotten wet at the concert. She couldn’t waste time doing trivial things like bathing or eating; no, no, she had to get right down to business. She crawled right up in bed, snuggled herself under the covers and closed her eyes with an unerasable grin. She didn’t need any DVDs or remote controls tonight. She had a brand-new living-color fantasy that she was going to be enjoying for a long, long time to come—pun intended.
YES, my Goddess…YES, my flame…
...Your command is my wish.