A hard day's work for Francine. From 9 to 5, she suffered the nagging blathering of her boss about the TPS reports, the painful anecdotes of the office dullard, and the tedious computer work that kept her fingers in constant motion at the keyboard.
She got on the M train back to her Brooklyn apartment. She looked at the floor of the train with a blank expression, the bags under her eyes prominent on her face. She wondered what had happened to her. She used to be happy, content with life. Now it was a mundane, repetitive rut.
In her younger years, Francine was a nice and exciting girl. She was the kind of girl who would be the designated driver, but she would also flash people on the highway when she wasn't drive. It wasn't about being sexy, it was about having fun.
And fun she had. Had. Past tense. Now, in her late thirties, her libido had faded. This left her body unkempt. Her breasts were deflating, being 36C at their best, and now lying at 32C. Her skin was becoming pale and veiny, not having the opportunity to spend time under the sun very often.
This is not to say that she was not attractive. Francine was a tall girl. At 5' 10", she was a good volleyball player at her gym. Her brown hair reached the small of her back, and it was still very thick and deep in color despite her age.
She threw her curvy body down onto her bed, still in her business suit. Although she wanted to fall asleep right then and there, she thought it better to change into pajamas. She got up and changed, then went to the kitchen for dinner.
She was grateful that she found a nice apartment, albeit in a bad neighborhood. On the second floor, she owned a tight two room apartment with a small kitchen. To fit the feeling of her cramped and gray home, she threw some top ramen onto the stove.
She turned the TV on and started watching The Real Housewives of...
"Housewife," she thought, "that would be so much better than this. I'd at least have someone to look forward to. Someone to comfort, someone to love, someone to fuck."
Francine had been single for years. Her last boyfriend was a man whore, so she had developed trust issues. Her sex life had been dead ever since. She rarely thought about it, but when she did, the desire was high. Tonight was one of those nights.
She finished her cheap noodles and retreated to her bedroom. She put on some jazz music, and went to her bottom dresser drawer. She pulled out her toy: a little vibrator egg.
Her routine was simple: shove it in, turn it on, and wait to cum.
Tonight, there was a slight error. The egg slipped out while she had dozed off from exhaustion. The orgasm never came.
**********
While she slumbered so early into the night, a storm started to brew. It was an hour into her sleep when the storm became powerful. The trees were bending in the wind, the rain beating hard on the windows.
In the other room of Francine's apartment, a large tree stood close to the window. Though it was large, one branch was rather weak. It broke at the top of the tree, and crashed through the window. Francine remained unconscious.
From the sidewalk, a man saw the window break open. He was far from his home, and needed to go somewhere. He jumped at the opportunity. The man climbed into the tree and jumped in through the window. He found a completely empty room. Aware of the time of night, he waited before walking out of the room. It was cold, and glass was all over the floor.
After enough time had passed, the man crept out into the hallway. He closed the door behind him and saw an apartment decorated with useless little trinkets. He thought this was too good to be true.
The man began to stuff his pockets with the little things; souvenirs from other countries and expensive luxury decorations. He found himself in the main room where a couch was. He would have loved to lie down, but he wasn't certain that he'd go unseen. So he went to the second hallway of the small living space.
It was decorated with many broadway posters, some signed. He tip-toed down the hall as quietly as he could. The floor underneath the carpet was creaking, but not very loudly.
He finally arrived at the door and put his ear up to it. He saw no lights shining under the door, but he still needed to check. He heard no movement, and no snoring. But there was a weak buzzing noise, like something was vibrating. Probably a massager or something, he thought.
He kept listening, and the buzzing persisted. Still, there was no other movement, no other sound. "You know what? Fuck it. Not like the cops can find me so easy in this fucking storm." He carefully opened the door.
The door creaked ever so slightly, and when there was no reaction from within, he felt it was safe. It was very dark, and he couldn't see too well. The buzzing was now louder. He was sure that nobody was home, and he stepped inside. Then the first strike of lightning presented itself.
The duration of the flash was just long enough for the man to notice one thing: there was a woman in the room, and she was asleep. Not only was she asleep, she was naked. He still didn't know the source of the buzzing, but now he was convinced that it was a vibrator.
He stood in the middle of the room in shock, the sight of the woman having surprised him. This went on through a few more strikes of lightning, assuring him that it was real; no illusion. Her breasts were bare, her legs too, and a vibrator egg between her legs, buzzing on without doing its work.
The situation finally resonated with the man. He had entered a random apartment, and now there was a sleeping naked woman in front of him who evidently fell asleep during masturbation. It was still too good to be true. Even better than before. There was no way he would be caught, thanks to this storm. It was dark, it was loud because of rain and thunder, and it would be easy to slip away. He didn't even live in Brooklyn.
The man inched his way over to the bed, trying not to fall in the darkness. He made it there, feeling the bed frame with his shin. His hand slid up the sheets until it found her thigh. He slowly, very slowly, put more pressure onto her leg. She did not wake. He slid his hand across her left thigh and found the egg, then turned it off. Out of curiosity, he let his hand go straight to her vagina. It was damp. Not wet, but damp. She definitely hadn't finished. But he didn't care about her finishing.
**********
Francine was having a lovely dream. She was floating about through the stars, seeing many people she knew fly by her. There was the mail man, her parents, her pets, and even Derrick Finster from 1st grade. They were all just happily zooming around the galaxy without a care in the world. Francine thought she'd take a rest on Mars, which was looking particularly pale this evening. More like the moon, really.
She arrived at Olympus Mons, and felt the gravity start to take effect. She lied down, and for some reason she could see Earth clearly. Staring at it, she noticed it was shaking. Earth was vibrating intensely, with no explanation. Francine got worried. Her worries grew tenfold when Earth disappeared. Not all at once, but it moved. It kept moving further and further away until it was gone.
This is when Mars started to regain its color. Just a little hint of red had returned. Then she felt a raindrop. While she was looking down at the ground as it changed hue, clouds had appeared above, the same color as the planet. A single rain drop had landed on her forehead, and she felt happy again. For about half an hour, she lay there letting single drops of rain hit her forehead. Then a quick burst of drizzling rain fell to her, but slowed down again. In that quick flash, the hue of the clouds and planet had darkened, but returned to the pale orange along with the ebbing rain.
Single raindrops resumed. She wanted the drizzling back. She enjoyed the darker color. Then it returned. As it did, she realized that she was holding something. She looked at her hand and saw a lollipop, also the color of Mars. She watched as it grew to a deeper orange, approaching a redder hue. The rain grew heavier, ever so slightly.
She took the lollipop to her mouth. She let it sit there for a moment, savoring the sweet taste of it. It sat there on her tongue for some time. While it sat there she thought about the beautiful color of Mars. It had always been this way. When it grew darker, it had still always been that way.
Francine felt giddy all of a sudden, having this lollipop. Something made it special. She didn't just want to let the lollipop sit there. The best flavor comes from licking. And that she did. She licked the lollipop while it sat in her mouth. As she did, the rain became more abundant. It had left drizzle and become regular rain. Mars darkened more, and she felt relaxed and satisfied.
**********
The man had rubbed his erection against her lips. Lucky for him she was a heavy sleeper, especially when exhausted. He felt the warm breath from her nostrils as he caressed her closed mouth with his large manhood, a trophy he was particularly proud of. Back and forth across her lips. Her head was turned to face him. The positioning seemed so inviting, and he brought the head of his cock to her lips. He applied the slightest pressure, and gradually brought more and more to it.
Miraculously, her jaw lowered in a small increment. It was all the man needed. He slid his cock past her lips, forcing her jaw to open more. Her clean and perfect teeth scraped his skin, but he didn't mind. He felt the warmth of her mouth around the whole of his head, and kept it there. He didn't want to risk putting more in just yet. He carefully moved his head in and out, lubricating his penis with her saliva.
It was then that he remembered the old dream suggestion trick. She was in a deep sleep, so if he gave some suggestion in her unconscious state, it might affect her dreams and help his case. Now playing at high risks, he spoke.
"You just got a lollipop, baby. And now you want it in your mouth. Now let's see how many licks it takes to get to the center."
