Mandy's Doze

Story by ZeHell-ScythefanToo

This, I think, is the least recent story I did when I got back into the swing of writing motivation, although it was a while after all of the other not sexual things I had written. (I was surprised to look into the file and see the start date I left there!) I told myself I wasn't going to write this kind of content again, but our interests have a way of catching up to us...

You can read this on my site (fancy reader technology) (plain text), download it as an attachment (here: 939118), or open the spoiler.

Mandy's Doze

03/28/2015

Short 'n' Sweet by Zhs2

Codewords: h/f, incest, hj, bj, safe sex, straight (moar liek advanced yuri amirite)

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You ever think about sleeping? I think sleeping is okay. It's something we all go through every night, something that prepares us for tonight or tomorrow or whatever's next that's important. That's all fine by itself, but sometimes, apparently, I just like to doze. Sometimes I want to, and it's cool when it happens; lately, though, I'm feeling a little less privileged about when and why I do for lots of reasons. Some of them are easy reasons - you probably know a few, like falling asleep in the middle of class, or maybe when you're supposed to be traveling somewhere. Today I'd come home and felt a little bushed, if I could say, so I promptly plopped off under my sheets and took a bit of a catnap to keep me up in time to do homework before the real sleep happened. Apparently, that was just a careless mistake!

"Rise and shine, little 'Mandy," I heard a voice float up from somewhere far away, a little whisper that weaved and wisped through my ears. I felt wondrous, worshipped, and a little groggy - a small part of me realized that voice wasn't coming from my own head, and that part of me only recently started catching onto why. My eyes flittered open to try and figure out what was going on visually, and my mouth smacked with prodigious dryness to catch a taste of the refreshing air; at one time in my life, I'd been afraid, sometimes, that indulging in a doze would never let me wake up again. With the recognition of the absence of sheets to my upper body, and exhibition to the room of the 'important bits' just at my torso, I rapidly began to fear whether I'd see another fitful snooze without being preyed upon ever again. Eventually, my eyes confirmed what I disapproved of daily: little Sarah had managed to fold my sheets over, unbutton my jeans, and allow my boner to stand free of my panties all without awakening me, and she'd been stroking and tickling 'little Mandy' for a decent enough time. That, I could guess, was what awakened me; with a bit of a whimper and a mewl (I hate that sort of natural response... I didn't want to feel cute when this happened!), my back arched, and the rest of me jerked before I sent free various globules of nasty white semen from the tip that shouldn't have been, staining Sarah's devilish face and splashing on enough other things to make me mad. I couldn't help it! It felt so good, but so evil... Why did this duality have to be apparent only to me?

Sarah and I are sisters, and each of us had separate bedrooms. For a long time I couldn't really think about why that was, but neither did I put much thought into that until... well, until puberty, I guess. I'd been through the course for girls' sexuality, as was mandatory with parents' permission, to learn enough about my body and why I felt sometimes the way I did, but they didn't cover all of it! That was only the first clue I'd had about why I was an individual, why I stood so neatly skipped in the curriculum; that was, very likely, the only classtime I'd felt little reason to take a doze, for sexuality was a subject I eagerly awaited the important parts of to explain just why I seemed to have to worry about an extra thing! The next thing I'd thought of was to turn to my parents, but some help they seemed to be. I told my mom first, as she was someone who very cordially discussed things with me when and where I was supposed to know them - she was a smart lady! - but when I'd got done jabbering out about this strange thing I didn't understand, she scared me. For the first time in my life, my mom scared me with this look of... wanting, this look of desire that seemed to cause me to freeze up on the spot before bolting for my life and leaving my mom surprised that I might do such a thing. She and I never talked very much after that, not beyond 'How was your day?' and other one-word answer questions, and I didn't want to give her the inch - the little light mile that would bring that look back to her face that vividly haunted me for some reason. I told my dad second, as I figured he would be able to at least explain what I had to do with a boy part on my body (if you can believe, I did get frus

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