The Storm Ch 06

My life went back to normalcy after a while or something close to it. It had been several months since I had found myself back in my place, the safety of my home. My body shrunk back to its slender self, my breasts healed. Of course my golden pubic hairs grew back. There were not even any stretch marks. The happenings in the catacombs became a faded memory, forgotten like a bad dream which I began to believe it was. I had called my parents and let them know I was OK and would probably spend at least 6 more months in Italy. I wanted to stay longer and was looking for a way to do it. They had been worried and had left many messages on my phone and had tried to contact me by phone and through several friends. I made up some excuse about losing my cell while on a holiday and not to worry about me. I was an adult after all.

I started several more classes at the University and was looking for a job. I would do anything just to stay. I didn't want to go home. Something deep inside me forbids me. Some deep longing or urges I couldn't explain. I didn't know what it was. I guess it could be compared to lust. Something I had to do or had to have. I craved something. Something was missing from my life that I needed, craved, lusted for. It was my body telling me this not my mind. It was kind of like the way the body craves water when dehydrated or when after experiencing a lot of good foreplay, the bodies need for sex and a good hard orgasm...

With my life getting back to normal, the excitement of just being in Italy and back with my friends pushed the nightmare deep into my subconscious. There it smoldered and controlled me although I didn't know it or was aware of it. I pushed away all the guys I would have had a relationship with if I hadn't been controlled. I had no sexual urges to be with them. They were just friends like the girls I hung around with. Some tried to get me into bed but I pushed them away. Soon they quit trying. I didn't even go back on the pill. Saw no need to. It was funny, not Ha, Ha funny though. I couldn't even get turned on. Not even watching some of the porno programs would make me wet. That was really unusual for me.

Sometime around the third or fourth month I got this urge to go back to church. I felt no need before then, even though I was raised Catholic and had gone to church somewhat regularly. This Sunday, I went. It was like going to church the first time as a child. I was excited. I walked into the Cathedral with awe. It was beautiful, stimulating. I felt strange though; it wasn't stimulating my soul as it should have been, but my body. I fidgeted all through the service. I discovered I was aroused. I hoped it didn't show.

I was embarrassed, could feel my face flushing when I noticed an old woman watching me. I didn't think I knew her and I felt my blush deepening. I thought I could smell my arousal and hoped no one else could. Was it my imagination? I was confused, very confused. How could being in church do something like this? I hadn't felt something like this for months...

I quietly got up and left, deeply embarrassed. The old woman watched me leave. I walked out, head down to the floor and watched my feet as they led me out the door. I could feel the dampness of my panties as the cool air slipped up my skirt as I walked.

The sunlight hurt my eyes and I shielded them as I looked around. Out here, no one was watching me. I walked for hours trying to figure out what happened. Why the church service had such an effect on me. I found myself wandering around the town square looking into the shop windows lost in thought hours later. I could no longer feel the wetness; my panties had dried so I pushed the thoughts of the morning into my subconscious. There was a Sunday market and I lost myself shopping, soon finding my way home afterwards with bags of fresh food. I felt good, better than I had felt in a long time. My spirit felt more alive and I called my friends asking them to come to a late evening Sunday dinner. I busied myself with the preparations and soon they arrived and we spent a nice lively evening enjoying each others company and good food. It was late when they left and I spent some time cleaning up before bed.

I was tired, more tired than I had felt in a while and quickly slipped out of my clothes and into bed. I had a fitful night thrashing around and awoke early with the covers twisted around me. I knew I had dreamed but could not remember any of it. Tiredly, I made my way to the shower and stood under the hot spray until I fully woke up. Completing that, I soaped up, washing my hair at the same time and rinsed. I had not noticed that I had been aroused during the night. Getting out of the shower, I admired the reflection of my slim body in the full length mirror and ran my hands over it as I spread on my favorite skin conditioner touching and kneading even the hidden recesses. It felt good, the softness of my skin and the tightness of my muscles. I had started to run again and kept up with my exercises. My stomach was flat and firm as well as my thighs. My breasts were small and perky, stood straight out, no sag at all. I was in good shape I thought as my eyes went to my golden triangle quickly followed by my hands. I spread the hairs and lips. Yes, everything looked so pleasingly good. My cycle was regular although I bled a little heaver than normal. I thought nothing of it.

The phone rang bringing me out of my thoughts and after answering it, the thoughts I had had slipped into my subconscious with the others. Damn, late for class. I quickly dressed and left.

The days of the week went by quickly with school and now the weekend was approaching. I felt tired. I hadn't slept well all week. Each night was the same fitful night of thrashing. Each time I awoke I was twisted up in the covers unable to remember the dream. Still I never realized how aroused I had gotten each night.

Saturday night I got to thinking about church as I was getting ready for bed. I wanted to go. Again I had this hidden urge, these thoughts in my subconscious awaking me. I had slipped into the bed nude as usual, and fell into sleep. This time though I didn't toss and turn. I lay quietly and slipped into this most erotic dream. I awoke Sunday morning remembering some of it. The sheet under me was wet and sticky and stuck to me. I thought I had never experienced anything like it in my whole life. The hands that caressed me, awakening my body drove me into orgasm after orgasm. I was exhausted but felt more alive than ever. I marveled at the wet sheet as I pealed it from me as I got up. Such a mess, I brought it to my nose and inhaled smelling the scent of me. I didn't understand how so much moisture could have come from me but then again, I had awakened with a thirst. I lay the sheet aside and went to the bathroom and drank glass after glass of water before I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was disheveled and sticking to my head and face from sweat. My golden triangle plastered to me from my moisture. I smiled, thinking about the wonderful dream. I looked at the clock and discovered I would be late if I did not hurry. I quickly showered and dressed, the urge to go to church more powerful than ever.

Church this time was uneventful. It did nothing for me spiritually or physically. I did become slightly aroused but not like before, the last Sunday when I had become so aroused. I remembered it. The memory hit me hard. I didn't fidget this time; I sat quietly and ran the thoughts through my head. I looked around. The old woman, is she here? I didn't see her. I didn't notice anyone watching me. I couldn't get into the service; I kept looking around and hung back after the service was over. I had this desire to walk around the church, to look for some door. I had a picture of it in my head but as I walked around, I saw nothing familiar. Not even the confessionals. The image of one popped into my head along with this door. Nothing, I left the church disappointed. Why, I couldn't explain. Something was drawing me, pulling at me, wanting me. I had the same feelings. Something was missing. Something I needed.

The week came and went. The days were uneventful but the nights were not. It got so I couldn't wait for day to end so I could slip into the erotic bliss of my dream. It was the same each night, the hands caressing me through one orgasm after another. It was so beautiful, so exhausting and beautiful. Each time I awoke I marveled at the amount of moisture that had come from me. The room smelled of me and my thirst was always intense. I did not dream of a man at all in this dream, there was no desire for one. That I didn't understand at all. The hands were men's hands but I didn't desire or lust for a man's hardness inside of me or his seed. Even when I was with men friends or walked around town or the university and looked at guys I didn't desire that at all. I thought that was strange. I needed something else. My body had awakened, was fertile and had the need to breed but not with a man.

Every chance I got after classes and work, now that I found a job; I walked to the church and looked around. Every evening would find me wandering the hidden nooks and corners of the cathedral. Still I didn't know what I was looking for. This one particular evening though I saw the old woman that had been watching me at church. She stood in the shadows beyond the confessionals watching me. I was the only other person there. I started toward her to speak to her but she quickly turned and disappeared in the deepening shadows, the light no longer reaching the dark recesses. I lost her and wandered around in the darkness wondering who she was, there was something familiar about herm I just couldn't place it. I discovered I was still looking for the door as that image popped to the forefront of my thoughts. Why I thought is this door so important? It had been hours tonight and was getting late when I finally found my way back to the main part of the church.

Standing in front of the alter I knelt, crossed myself and prayed. "Show me oh lord what to do, or tell me what I am to do. Why am I having these strange dreams? What do you want of me?"

Of course there was no reply and sadly I turned and left the church and walked home. The whole time I felt someone watching me. I kept looking around, stopping at times to do so but saw no one. Strangely though, with the feeling of being followed I was becoming aroused.