No Heroes In Love... by bigcock4pussy 3196

The air smelled like the breeze from the Caribbean sea during the time where seagrapes are in vogue. Feathers ran over my skin almost touching it, waking my nipples from their slumber. I opened my eyes to see nothing but a deep scarlet red. A wing. It moved to the right, where someone I didn't know laid; someone who was familiar...

A woman of pale skin, dressed up in nothing but a lace bra and panties of the same scarlet shade she had on both her lips and wings. Her thick dark eyebrows drew me into a pair of beautiful blue eyes that looked to be made out of the icy sheets that came from the northernmost part of the Soviet Federation.

"You sure sleep like a dead woman, even though you're breathing," she giggled. A Soviet accent. She looked Soviet too.

I wanted to say something, but no words came out of my mouth. Was it awe?

This... red-winged angel kicked her heels while she spun a silver arrow with both a heart-shaped arrowhead and a heart-shaped fletching.

"It's always the same..." she sighed. "Everybody thinks that because you do everything, step by step, you'd unlock eternal happiness, not knowing the real lie behind that..."

She observed the tip of the arrow like a scientist. Then she looked at me.

"Do you know why aren't you, happy, S?"

"Don't call me S. Only my husband calls me S," I grunted.

"Right... Your husband. We both know the real reason you married him. It's the same reason you have a job that you think you like, but your heart is someplace else, and actually..." her eyes looked into the ceiling. She stopped kicking her heels and glanced back at me, "...you never followed your heart's desires."

The arrow caressed my cheek. I gasped. Cold silver ran down my skin, a knife threatening to end my life underneath this blanket of pink neon and saltwater. A draft gave me the chills as the arrow slowly climbed down my mountains and punctured me right in the chest!

I yelped.

"It's okay, it's okay! Relax!" she whispered as the arrow moved on its own until it clanked on the floor. Her lips met mine. There was an exchange in that kiss. I could feel she took something away from me, and gave me something. Two fingers caressed my crotch.

I didn't bleed. The wound in my chest never existed.

"Look, S, I've been watching you, like I do with people around this time of the year, and I know you're not being honest. The reason is because you are afraid of the path your heart wants to travel."

Nails scratched my thigh. She kissed me again. I let out a moan when her fingers touched my pussy again.

"Who are you?" I asked. "Why are you doing this?"

She grinned. Cold eyes still ice blue... I quivered.

"You know who I am, S, and you know why I'm helping you."

"Like I need any help!" I grunted.

Her fingers went from the line between my vertical lips, and ran over my body all the way up until the space between my breasts, where the arrow pierced. One press, and blood started to drip.

"Oh, you want something!" she said. "But you're afraid of what you need to sacrifice in order to get it. You are afraid of everything that you want."

Reality faded in the darkness as we kissed again. A neon lamp buzzed outside. The rest I heard was giggles and moans. Within the pitch black hell of my dreams, I fucked an angel until my body couldn't take it, which wasn't long. As soon as we embraced, I drifted in the void...

Silence embraced me.

No Heroes in Love...

Chapter I

A cock sang to the still-sleeping sun right when the voice of the midwestern mornings wished to all listeners from the State of New Segovia, the rest of the Midwest, and those outside New Venice a good morning. I woke up drenched in a puddle of sweat and a mess of all kinds of fluids. My head turned into a bomb about to explode, yet I didn't feel sick.

"Was that a dream?" I sighed. I didn't remember much beyond the darkness, and all the sighs it entailed.

This time there was a void next to me. He would've loved to see me like this. Me, moaning while I masturbated in dreams... if that's what I did and not my body acting on its own.

I'd be in a pretty interesting dilemma if I was in his position: would I wake myself up to have sex, or would I watch?

"What a way to start a Monday," I giggled, and stumbled my way to the shower.

Cold water shocked my body into waking up, yet my skin felt numb. I still couldn't get off of my mood, even when the voice of the midwestern mornings started to show its teeth to reality.

My hands ran down my titties. Nipples numb.

First headline: Operation Last Hope is still considered a land assault at Santiago de León with the goals of shaking the nation by kidnapping the Supreme Usurper of the presidency; the Red Party claims.

I opened my eyes and pretended someone joined me in the shower... Nobody in particular, yet I wanted to feel feathers on my skin.

Second headline: the twins are still bending the knee to the UCSF, even though they're doing whatever they want now that they have unprecedented power to control the Red Party to their whims.

The ghostly presence could put their hand around my neck. My pussy dripped, but the water washed it off...

Third headline: the Decree of Commotion has been renewed until March, keeping the same status as it were during the Civil War of two years ago back in summer. Every citizen is expected to strip themselves naked, have their phones unlocked, and wait until the cockroaches judge by themselves if we're terrorists or traitors. No due process, no warrant, no nothing is needed.

I scratched my butt, begging for a spank. I wanted a name to scream. I wanted a hand to pull my hair.

Other headlines: neighborhoods calling the State government to fix infrastructural problems going on for months. Also more propaganda headlines from the tabloids.

Lust took over from me. The headlines vanished...

My only excuse for the radio is to have some sound, whether I get to touch myself in the shower or not. Nothing new in the world of news. When the voice stopped speaking and allowed music to exist, I finally sang with it through the small microphone between my legs.

It was a short session, nothing out of the ordinary. Nevertheless, the dream still had a grip on my mind, even after I cleaned my glasses and entered the 4K world.

I put on a black push-up bra with some generic panties, and then ran my fingers through my blonde curls. I struck a 'sexy' pose by the mirror, and took a selfie while hiding my face with my phone, though my glasses peeked from the sides.

"Missing you, sweetheart," I wrote after I attached the selfie.

Shortly after, he replied with a picture of his own. Not a dick pic, but a photo that didn't make me giggle like I was in love with him again.

"I can see that," he wrote.

"Can't you come sooner?"

"Don't worry, S. I'll be back for Valentine's; I promised you that."

"I know, but Saturday feels like it's so far away!" there was something in me, a small bit that I didn't believe my own feelings. "I miss you!" I wrote; an even bigger lie.

I didn't miss him. Yet I was still honest in the lie... I don't hate him, but I never lied to him like this.

"Check the mail," he wrote.

I grabbed the first hotpants and tank top that I saw in the closet and rushed down to the lobby. I didn't pay much attention to the redheaded janitor on the way down, but she whistled a tune.

An elderly tennant came back from her morning walk with her son, while another neighbor came out to walk his dog. After a sporty girl finished checking her inbox, I opened up mine to see a pair of boxes; one bigger than the other. The smaller one felt cold to the touch.

I went back up to see the janitor smoking a cigarette. She smiled at me, her blue eyes colder than the Neo-segovian winter mornings before the sun starts warming things up.

When I set the boxes in the table I giggled. "I should've known you'd be giving me chocolates," I talked in an audio clip that went straight to my husband. "I love you."

"I love you too, S," he said.

There was a note on the big box with his handwriting. "Don't open it until Valentine's day," it said.

I kept another chocolate in my mouth and went back to get rid of these clothes and start to get ready for work. I walked out with a business dress and flats, yet my eyes couldn't stop darting into the big box. What could be in it?

"More chocolates," I chuckled.

Chapter II

Why do we call it news when the world never changes? Talking heads keep yapping the same narrative, another interview to discuss more awful shit, no solutions... Just outrage, more outrage, and outrage until death. If the world was an animal, it'd be that donkey that's thirsty and hungry at the same time, but can't decide to whether eat hay or drink water, until it dies of dehydration. I guess we're a bunch of dumb asses.

I nearly broke the radio to switch the station to something that played music. Of course, in doing that, I didn't realize I ate through a red light, until something hit me on the side.

I hit the brakes to see a human cannonball soaring through the air from right to left, until they fell through a pair of trees, taking down some of the electrical wiring in the process, and finally hitting the bushes.

"Shit!" I shouted and rushed out to help.

Someone else came out of their car and froze. "Call 911" I yelled.

When I reached to the cannonball, I could see her still moving. She coughed and took off her helmet to take huge gasps of air. The gear she wore was done for. I couldn't tell whether that was underwear she had underneath the leather, or actual clothes! It's almost as if she came out to strip for a sexploitation film.

"I'm fine!" she said, as she got up. "I'm fine," she kept insisting, but her head spun. She shook it. "Just a couple of bruises."

I looked back and got a nod.

"Help's on the way. Are you sure you're okay?"

She sounded like an angry ocelot when she grunted. The only way her brown eyes could be red is if a red neon light pointed at them. "You tried to kill me! Why don't you take a look at your damned handiwork, blondie whore!"

"It was an accident! I'm sorry! I wasn't looking!"

Sirens came from afar. The stopped looking dizzy. I didn't see no bruise, but aside from her gear, some of her clothes got destroyed on impact. To my surprise I could see extra skin showing from her chest.

"I've been a biker long enough to tell you that this is the first time they show up for an emergency before ten minutes after they've been called!" she chuckled. "The UCSF seems to be whipping the regime out of its ways."

She looked at me and then chuckled. "You're cute for being a murderer, on the other hand."

"Oh my God..."

"No, no, don't 'oh my God' me, blondie! At least be thankful I won't be pressing any charges just because you're cute."

She went back to the place she fell and picked up her helmet. I never saw one with a large crack on its back. "My gear might be destroyed, but it's my pride the one thing that you murdered this morning," she said.

I kept insisting, but every time she pushed me away from it. The emergency personnel started to do their job. She was fine, I was fine, everyone was fine. The only people who weren't were the road ragers who don't want accidents happening at rush hour. Just another Monday, I suppose...

To my surprise the damage to the car wasn't a lot. The motorcycle also took the hit quite well. It looked like there wasn't a single ding to it.

Then a motorcycle hit me in the cheek as soon as I looked away from it.

"Don't you even touch it!" she yelled.

The cops jumped to stop the fight before it happened, but I told them to drop her. They wanted to prosecute her, but no, I'm not pressing charges. She has the right to be angry. It was an accident, and if I'm being honest, that punch wasn't an act of aggression. I've been hit in the face before. This one was just her way to give me back her pain.

As far as I'm concerned, the only thing that really needed attention is the ding that the right door my car had. Not a big deal, but it was also a big deal.

My phone buzzed. The boss asked me why am I not in my office yet. He started grilling about the company being hacked at this very moment, and they needed the best technician working on that.

"I got into a car accident," I wrote him.

"I don't care. Walk to the office, now!"

That's what work is. No concern, no humanity, just being treated like another cog in the machine. Even if I was bedridden with COVID, he would tell me to log in from home, and start pen testing. Then again it's difficult to help a company with employees who keep answering weird phone calls, clicking on random links, and opening strange emails...

We were let go after a while. The cops cleared everything out, and traffic returned as normal. Two remained just so we don't get into a fight since we went down the same road. That's how she took a hit: she took a turn, and I skipped a red light.

The biker got rid of her gear in public, to the eyes of cops who seemed to not know whether to pursue her under public indecency charges or not. I removed my blazer and covered her from any other eyes, keeping the show to myself.

She was taller than me, like five or six inches. She let her hair loose and ran a finger over it to comb it before tucking it back to its ponytail. A pretty girl, at least seven years older than me. She wore a tank top better than any other woman could, and had a very athletic frame.

No ring on either hands. She's 37 and single?

"Having fun measuring my limbs before you kill me and feed me to the pigs, blondie?" she said.

"I said I'm sorry; what more do you want from me?!"

She looked at me from the feet up, eyes scratching me until they found my lips. "You must be a nerd playing lawyer, aren't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Only a nerd would wear such unflattering flats with a suit that makes you look from human resources," she laughed. "It's not a big surprise though. A cute nerd like you, early thirties, married like the rest of them nerds..."

"Wait, how the fuck did you-"

"Why are you wearing gold in this finger?" she interrupted me and waved her hand to my face, flicking the ring finger.

"I don't have time for this."

I turned to go back to my car, but she took me from the wrist and forced me to face her. When I did, she dropped her grip and lifted both hands.

"No need to be so sensitive, blondie!" she argued, and looked at the street with sharpened eyes. "I don't want to start a fight so the boys in blue come back to put us in handcuffs making our story look like a cheap porno."

I blinked and stayed quiet, arms crossed.

"Why don't we discuss this in a more civilized way? And to show you I mean it, I'm willing to pay."

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"I mean, if you want to date me, I wouldn't say no."

"It's sarcasm!"

"I know. I chose to ignore it. You're too cute when you're being sarcastic."

"Goodbye," I turned my back on her.

"Oh come on, how are we going to discuss the damages?" she yelled once my hand was about to open the door. "At worst, you'll have free dinner. Just... can I use your phone for a moment? I don't have mine with me right now."

I sighed. At first I didn't trust her, but I found myself unlocking my phone and giving it to her. Seconds later, a phone rang from inside her jacket. She ended the call and tapped away on my phone.

"Taylor, the biker?" I read out loud.

"That's me," she said. "I could give you instructions on how to call me, but a nerd like you can do it. Speaking about it, what's your name, blondie?"

"Sabrina."

The way she laughed was more like I told her the process on how civet coffee is made while she had a sip on it. "Wait, don't tell me your name is Sabrina, like the carpenter."

"Better than being called a witch, I suppose," I sighed. "But you flied swiftly in the air."

"Maybe I should put you down as that. But it's better to put you as the biker killer."

"Taylor!"

"I'm joking! Look! No Carpenter, no witch, no biker killer..."

She's right. I was "Sabrina, the cute blondie nerd" in her phone book. It made me blush to see that. Not even my husband has me like that, not even when we started dating.

We agreed on dinner instead of fighting. For once, I looked forward to it. Indeed, my curiosity got me wondering how good she looked under that leather jacket and tank top. If I even got that far, I felt like she could leave me on the sidewalk like a stack of old and wet newspaper, ready to be brand new blankets for a homeless.

I turned back on the radio and listened to the DJ anouncing they're still taking requests. A girl named Sarah dedicated the last song to the owner of a gym East Downtown. Her voice on the phone sounded familiar.

Chapter III

I rushed here for nothing, as expected. There was no hack, just my boss being an asshole, but it was nothing that I couldn't get out with a little cleavage, and another mass email telling people to fucking stop opening strange links. Then again, I sure felt like I visited one.

I don't know what compelled me to bring a dildo to work. I did bring the chocolates to eat in secret. I chewed on one while I remained inside the restroom, staring at the silicone dong while questioning all the life choices that brought me here.

First it's the dream... I couldn't stop thinking about it.

That woman... that angel was familiar, yet unknown. I still recall her pale skin, as pale as the snows in Syberia, and those blue eyes, colder than the Artic ocean.

Who was she? Is she even real?

I guess I'll never know...

Then, it was Taylor. For some reason she kept coming back to my mind even as I have a dildo wobbling a little on top of the sink... Why, though... why would she ask me out? I feel like she asked me out!

I haven't been able to calm down... Whatever got me staining the sheets was with me, when it should've stayed at bed, or be with me while my husband is around. The smell of the salty Caribbean came with me too...

Lunch is supposed to be eaten with the mouth, yet instead I'm feeding my body through the lips under my skirt while my voice refuses to scream his name!

The irony got me wetter. This was a gift from him, and he gave it to me because it looked just like his cock. Now I can't conjure his image... Are we growing distant?

I stopped. Someone giggled. My own shivering could've turned it into a vibrator that didn't do shit. I kept quiet, but my footsteps didn't.

I locked myself here; no one could come in...

I kicked every stall door open to make sure I was alone, and I was. Who the hell giggled?

I glanced at my reflection. It was odd: I looked just like any other employee, but I had nothing beneath the skirt. Now the dildo flopped in one hand, my glasses got stained, and my hair got a bit too much sweaty. Yet I couldn't stop having a hand between my legs!

I craved her. I craved... Taylor.

The angel of my dreams might just walk in circles around me with one hand in the same place mine currently is. I can hear her laughing in my ear... I don't remember much of that dream, but I felt like a toy; a plaything for a being beyond my comprehension... It made me smile though. Who wouldn't love to be a beautiful angel's plaything?

Shame she's nothing but a brain fart, but Taylor isn't.

It's dangerous to think about Taylor this way when I don't know her but I could see ourselves naked. I can feel her biting my lips and calling me a murderer over and over, perhaps mocking me as now I was on her grasp.

"Who is the killer now?" she'd say. The thought made my cheeks red. Before I knew it, the dildo was back in my pussy.

No Heroes In Love...

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