My name is Nate. I come from a suburban Caucasian family. Well…largely. I am a twenty-five-year-old, somewhat shy, somewhat nerdy guy. I try to stay fit. I like reading, writing and some other stuff I’d be way too shy of admitting till recently.
I am not the main character of this story.
Late one afternoon a few days back, when I was alone at home, I walked into my sister’s room to find the Nintendo device I shared with her, and found instead, lying half concealed underneath her pillow, a physical diary I had no idea she kept.
Her name is Riya. She is twenty-three years old. It wasn’t the most typical thing for my suburban parents to adopt a baby of Indian descent, but that’s just who my parents chose. And I couldn’t be happier about it. I shared a fun, friendly, and I’d say empathetic bond with my Indian-American stepsister, which is not to say we didn’t get into all kinds of quarrels every so often.
Carelessly peeking out from underneath her pillow, the diary all but beckoned for my attention. When I brought it out and opened it, sure enough, it was filled with her scribbled, pretty handwriting. As soon as I had read the first few lines of an entry, however, I knew it was not safe to read anymore. Think what you will, but I continued to read.
I will deal with my conscience, which, to be fair, would not be easy, but I suggest you deal with yours and leave my moral punishment to the gods. She wrote what she did, and I read with a morbid, searing interest that truly scared me on reflection later. What’s more, fearing she might be back any second, I photographed the pages, left the diary as I had found it, and made my way to my room. As I said, let me deal with my moral guilt, and you deal with yours.
I won’t lengthen the intro by guiding you via any note of anticipation regarding what was written. Let me instead present to you in its entirety the first post that I happened to read from my sister, Riya’s diary:
My Body Feels So Good This Morning
I woke up today ensconced within an intense warm haze of longing and satisfaction. The bed was wet. I had cum in my dreams, and from the looks and feels of it, I had cum many times over. I felt so good that I hugged a pillow and reminisced about the dream I dreamt.
Before you become privy to my most private, shameful dreams and real-life experiences, let me tell you a little bit about who I am. My name is Riya, and I’m twenty-three years old. I have an unusual appetite for sensuality and the weirdest kinks. I maintain a good figure, which makes me feel confident while wearing cute pieces of clothing that often leave my midriff bare. Now, I don’t know why, but I feel intensely aroused whenever I get to bare my midriff in public, knowing I look cute and sexy in a revealing outfit. I love the stares, even if I don’t acknowledge them for the most part. I can feel their illicit interest falling on me like warm breaths, causing little sensations of dark erotic tingling. The ones who did feel to me worthy of giving attention back to… well, I wanted them to do my bare waist and midriff much more than merely stare at it. Once, I watched this adult video of a woman jerking off her lover’s plump, hard cock over her naked body, taking enormous loads of his fresh, warm cum on her tummy and her navel. I had never forgotten that video and how that man rubbed and smeared his warm cum on her tummy with his hands.
Right. So that’s a bit about me. Now, where was I? Right! In a metro train. A metro train, in my dream, I mean. And quite a dream it was! The AC was on too cold. Or I was improperly dressed for it. It was probably a combination of both. But I felt chilly.
I was riding in a largely empty, cold white-lit metro compartment, hurtling at speed through a dark tunnel, dressed in a tight green crop top that hugged my full boobs, and grey leggings. Opposite me sat an intensely handsome young man with dark black hair, hazel eyes and Caucasian skin. I’m not sure how to explain it, but he had this aura about him as if he might have been a dark romance hero of enormous mystery, lore and charm out of some sleazy, wishful romantic fantasy best-seller. When our eyes met across the aisle, it felt as though he existed on the train simply for the task of looking at me and me alone. His gaze fell deliciously warm on my skin as I gently squirmed and twisted my body for him to get a nice look at it. Well? What do you think? Am I just the right kind of delicate, next-door-girl-sexy for you?
He responded with the slightest of smiles. Everything in an erotic dream feels heightened. Your mind and body are on fire in the bed as you hallucinate vividly your darkest kinks. The tiniest hint of a smile and a glitter in his eyes sparked a thousand flashes of desire all over me. A fantasy I’ve been thinking about recently now bypassed all thought, and slipped directly into the blissful yet torturous state of instinctive feeling. I wanted him! Simply being stared at wasn’t enough. I needed to be touched, even inside the moving train.
The train must have begun to slow for a while, but by the time I realised it, we were already drawing into a station. The AC felt like it had grown even colder against the bare skin of my arms, neck and waist. All but two passengers disembarked, leaving the coach almost empty. One was my dark fantasy hero sat opposite me, and another was this blue-eyed, I’d say fairly typically hot blonde woman in a crisp white tunic, black formal skirt, and dark-rimmed glasses. She sat staring at me from a distance, sat on her seat as she was, legs crossed. What was that look on her face as she scanned my figure? Was that merely academic interest? And yet in this dream-haze state of heightened senses, I could smell her arousal all the way from over here.
It didn’t matter because almost as soon as the train left the platform, I felt his presence in front of me. I stood up. It’s a dream. We didn’t need to talk. With his breath warm on my face, I felt his hands land with delicate precision upon my waist. His caress across my curves sent pleasurable shivers down my spine. And all the while, his tranquil eyes bore into me. We kissed the most passionate kiss of my life. It felt like the most natural thing to do, to be honest. I craved him really very badly. My body craved him in a way that aroused in me my recent breeding fantasy. Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed the blonde woman get up and come closer to us. She stood holding a bar at the centre of the couch. She stared at us shamelessly, her lips parted the slightest bit in an involuntary expression of lust and arousal. Perhaps she too sensed that this was a dream.
Presently, I could feel him gently, expertly fondling my rounded breasts through the fabric of my crop top as we kissed again. His hands were now gripping me more firmly, his fingers digging into the skin of my waist and my soft, flat tummy. He stared down to look at my navel, and made a soft humming sound, as though he was very pleased with what he had seen. The next second, he was kneeling and pressing his lips up close to my midriff. The most delicious sensation ripped through my body, emanating from my stomach as soon as I felt his warm, wet tongue scrape across my navel.
“Oh gosh!” I heard the blonde woman through a heavenly daze of warm, erotic feelings. Suddenly I felt much more comfortable against the cold of the AC. A gentle pleasurable warmth had started to spread across me.
I’m not sure when it happened, and in dreams the chronology and flow of events is rarely consistent, but pretty soon he was standing, pressing his body close against mine, entirely naked. He had a fine athletic body, a handsome face, and he stood tall over me with his serene, beautiful eyes looking into mine. I was dressed as I was before, with my midriff exposed. He was tall in a way which made his warm, hard cock just be level with my belly button. I felt it throb against my stomach as he pressed close upon my body, and I knew he needed it just as much as I did.
Finally I spoke. If only to get the words out so I could hear them out in the wild.
“Go on. Put it in me. Put your cock inside my body.”
One strong hand wrapped around my waist and back, holding my body in place, while with the other he guided the tip of his cock flat against the surface of my tummy, against the indentation of my belly button. The tip of his cock was slick with warm precum, which he spread generously into my navel. Locking eyes with me once more, he continued rubbing against my stomach, squeezing more thick droplets of lust out of his cock.
It felt weird yet familiar. Like a feeling I felt in a different life, in a different dimension, but felt so strongly that it had travelled across multiverses and timelines and returned back to me here, in this moment. I had this deliciously cozy feeling in my stomach. And the more he breathed on my face, looked into my eyes and rubbed his throbbing black cock against my navel, the more my whole body felt on fire and ready to open up from the inside, like a flower, just for him. I could feel my navel extremely moist and generating sensations I only have those vague faraway memories of feeling before in another life. It was highly sensitive to any touch, but especially the coaxing touch of his cock, pressing into me. With a feeling more intense than any orgasm I have ever experienced, I felt my body… no, it was just my navel open up for him. I watched the tip of his hard cock slip into my stomach through my navel, and I yelped from the intensity of the sensation. It was as though my body had magically metamorphosed, generating a sexual intercourse tunnel accessible through my navel.
I must have cum in my pants, because I felt very wet down there. But the wonderful feeling in my pussy was nothing compared to having my dark, handsome stranger poke inside my stomach with the tip of his cock. My navel had generated its own arousal fluid, and felt more slick and sensitive now than my pussy ever had.
“More,” I whispered, my eyes closed. I could feel the blissful smile linger on my face even as I said it. He pressed in a little deeper with his cock inside my tummy, and I cried in delight. Warm, happy tears dripped down my cheeks as I looked at him. It was a good job he held me so snug in his arm, because it really did feel like my entire body was being opened up in one incredible orgasmic haze. I had never known my body could ever hold so much pleasure at one time. Or that any human body ever could.
“Do it, please.”
Slowly, softly, so very delicately, in… and then out. In… and out. And just like that, with a small, lingering rhythm, he was fucking my stomach, holding me in place, making my navel and my whole body tremble from intense, deep, deep pleasure. And all the while I was all too aware of the blonde woman watching us lustfully, watching the soft, squirming movements of my poor body within his grip, as he made himself busy putting his seed in my stomach.
I don’t know what hard drugs can make you feel; I have never done any, but none of it could produce illicit, delicious feelings this intense; I was sure of it. I wanted to sink into his arms, to lodge my face on his chest, and let him fuck me pregnant. The more I leaned in out of lust for him, the deeper his cock stabbed inside my body.
“Please,” I whispered, more for my own perverse kink than for him, for I suspect he already knew, “fuck me nice and make me pregnant, already.”
That was all the encouragement he needed. He held me in his arms and fucked me slow and deep, and I cried into his chest, burying a cascade of intense sensations against the warmth of his skin, all the while dampening it with tears of the most intense pleasure.
“I want you to breed me. Please… just cum inside my stomach, and make me pregnant,” I whispered again.
“Mhm.”
A deep, gorgeous voice. Just the way I had imagined it. I looked into him again and realised why he had been feeling so vaguely familiar. Why does he look familiar? He grunted as he fucked me deep. I could feel his warm cock throb desperately inside my stomach. Oh right! He reminds me of Nate. My brother. Huh! What a strange thing.
And I came once more, more strongly than I had been doing all this while, living as I was inside a continuous orgasmic haze. My leggings were drenched. He held me tightly by my waist and fucked. I could see the blonde woman close by. Having lifted her skirt, she was busy pleasuring her bare pink pussy, gritting her teeth, and looking at me lustfully.
“That’s right, Nate. Cum inside me,” I said.
The first thing I felt was his cock going rigid and then spasming intimately snug within the most sensitive depths of my stomach. And then I felt his warm, thick cum spurt out over and over again, filling up my stomach with his seed.
And that’s when I woke up. Drenched in my own cum. What a strange dream it was, and I would be loath to dampen its blissful effects with any analysis of what it might mean. All I knew was I felt so incredibly nice in my body lying on the bed this morning, only subsequently realising that I had fallen asleep in a tight green crop top and grey leggings.
The end.
(For now!)
