The Nocturnal Me Ch. 02

An author's note: This story was planned as erotic horror but since the first chapter didn't to show much of that, I decided to publish it on IR. This chapter isn't pure horror but the plan is to make it more so with each chapter as it suits the story, and in general the story will get a bit heavier. There's rape mentions and discussions on this chapter and the ones that will be published after this, but there is no detailed rape on the story nor is it itself about rape.

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2. Try To Focus On Reality

Sofia's POV

A nightmare woke me up today, although telling myself 'this can't be real' had never felt honest enough to wake me up before. Even with the light from my phone I was afraid when I found myself in bed, because I knew the rest of the apartment was still dark. But there was no one with me. During the last year I lived with my parents, I would keep the bedroom door locked at night, just for the feeling of safety, because I might as well. But in this so-called 'tiny apartment', the door to the bedroom is just a ladder to the bed. No way to be locked.

You'd think (understandably) that if you were raped, your most common nightmares would be about being raped, but mine is one where I am publicly executed. I wake up as soon as a man puts a cloth bag over my head. It's pretty strange. One would usually wake up when they know for sure they will die, right before the impact. But if you can't see the moment of impact, I guess your brain might as well assume you are dead.

In the morning I felt like another person, which is generally a good thing. But once I went down the ladder I saw a spot on the floor below the front door that was white, a paper. It was blank on the upper side, but as I got closer it became obvious there was something on the other side. I turned it around to reveal a drawing that was erased and drawn over itself several times, at different parts, judging by their blurriness. But it was simple stick figures, so a few seconds were enough to notice it was supposed to depict a person raping another. It wasn't sex. The one on top had a twisted smile and angry eyebrows drawn on, and the one on the bottom was crying.

I left it on the floor and went up to the bed to take my phone, thinking I would want to keep a picture of it before anything else. Just to later figure out what to do. As I went down the ladder I could see already from my peripheral vision that there was nothing on the floor beside the front door. I still approached it as if it would reappear in the meantime. It seemed like it wouldn't make sense, but it still could. If I reached enough for an explanation I could reason that someone could take it from under the door. That would mean, of course, that someone had put it there and stood there waiting for me to pick it up and put it down again. What I knew made more sense though, was that I had simply imagined it. I did get to touch it and notice its details, but any of the senses can be deceitful, especially when one has just woken up. There was nothing else on the apartment (closer to a room) that was different, so I left it at that.

My hope of seeing that Asian man again without having to message him and risking looking desperate got higher when I'd seen a few nights back that my schedule would be different this semester and some days I'd have class in the morning. The first class was alright. So alright that it's pointless to say anything else. The real issue is that when I was in public I felt the fight between the two sides of me. One wanted to blurt out that I was raped and who did it, and the other had to be keeping an eye on that side. In any case, I sometimes got the sensation 一however ridiculous一 that people could tell somehow, just by looking at me.

By the end of both my classes for the day, I still wanted to find excuses not to leave campus and especially not to go back to my apartment. Then I found the best possible one. The Japanese-American man who had done the best job at seducing me a few days before. I had made that profile to see if I was really ready to have sex again, and went to his place because I liked him. I recognized him among a few trees even from afar. Even though I did walk towards him, I knew that it was likely he might feel awkward about seeing me again.

"Hey" again I went for the most casual word I could "Akio."

"Hi, how's it going?" he asked. His deep voice reminded me immediately of how subtle his accent was, compared to mine.

I've developed a soft crush on him since we slept together, just by thinking of the way he kissed. It was passionate and horny 一bordering on desperate, if I wanted to be rude一 but I liked that he was so shameless about sex

"I'm alright" I said. At that moment he looked at me and got a hand on the tree beside him.

"Don't you want to sit down?" he asked.

Instead of replying, I did just that, sit down on the grass. Then he sat down beside me.

"I like your style," he said, apparently referring to the cameo on my necklace judging by the direction of his gaze "A lot of girls seem to go for that Victorian look."

"Yeah, these last years I've seen more with lace and pintucks on clothes, long skirts, high necklines, stuff like that."

"You know, Victorian influence changed Japan a lot." he said "Some historians believe they're indirectly the reason why Japanese porn is censored today."

"Oh," I said "So, there was porn in Japan then? As paintings?"

"Yes, some woodblock prints were erotic. You might have actually seen one of the most... infamous ones. It's known in English as 'Dream of the Fisherman's Wife'."

"Doesn't sound familiar." I said "What is it?"

He got closer but spoke on the same level.

"Well, it shows an octopus performing oral sex on a woman, while another octopus is sucking her mouth."

"Oh my God" I said "Oh wait, I think I've seen that. And I guess Europeans thought it was weird?"

"Well it is pretty weird. But it seems the Japanese of those times. Uh, the Victorian times, not of that painting, I mean. It seems they didn't want to be seen as uncivilized by Europeans. I could be wrong, this isn't my area of expertise."

I was silent because there was nothing I could add to it. He spoke again.

"So what class did you just have?"

"Aesthetics." I said.

"So it's about art?" he asked.

"Not yet. He was talking about the word 'aesthetic' itself and what it used to mean and such." I said. I wasn't sure whether I would bore him with more details, so I left it at that.

"What are you thinking of working as?" he asked when I didn't continue talking.

"A philosopher" I wanted the joke to seem serious for a moment, but I felt myself blushing before I had even finished talking.

He laughed, as I expected, but didn't follow it with a 'No, really.'

"I want to do research, write, maybe take part in a few textbooks here and there."

"What are you most interested in?" I asked, after noticing that most of the questions had been from him "Modern history, or...?"

"Not really." he said "I like Ancient and Medieval, well, feudal, the most. Of East Asian countries specifically."

His voice was not quite a whisper but a lower tone.

"You want to come to my place after class?"

"Well, I'm actually done with my classes for today." I said "But yes, I do want to."

"Oh. I still have one left. Why don't we see each other here when it's over?" he asked

"Alright, yes." I said "I'll be waiting for you."

I became unsure about the phrasing of that last part, almost immediately after saying it. It kept entertaining me until I started walking through the History classrooms. There was a closed door labeled 'laboratory' (for documents?) and I heard Akio's deep, strong voice. I followed it, but when I found the classroom it came from, he stopped speaking.

"That's what your final essay is meant to be like, Nishizawa." said another voice, obviously the teacher.

"Nishizawa" I repeated to myself in a whisper.

I left a bit after that to avoid him seeing me first thing out of his classroom when he said to meet him outside. I was lying on the grass when he found me.

"Let's go."

I started to stand up and he got his right hand close to me so I could take it.

--

"You have a nice place" I said, having thought of no other comment to make.

"It's pretty small, though, isn't it?" he asked.

"Mine is smaller. It's basically a hotel room except with a small kitchen and a loft bed and desk."

"Well, it could be nice still. A big apartment could make a person feel lonely."

I wasn't sure if he was talking about himself at that moment but I figured it would have been accidental and pretended not to notice.

"I actually feel I'm not alone enough at times there." I said.

For whatever reason, his reply didn't seem to be about what I'd said. Maybe he found the statement strange and ignored it for being uncomfortable, or I guess he could have misinterpreted or misheard me.

"Well, if you like to go out, we should go out for drinks sometime." he said.

"Maybe coffee" I said, even if I wanted to just accept it on the basis of being invited on a date with him "I don't tend to drink much."

"You don't?" he asked, "Wait, you're 21, aren't you?"

"I'm 22, it said on my profile."

"Let me see your ID."

"Are you serious?" I asked, even when I was already reaching for my bag out of force of habit.

"Obviously you're at least 18." he said "I'm just curious about what you looked like."

"I didn't look that different when it was taken." I said, and finally took out my wallet to show him.

He was silent for a few seconds while he looked, then stared at me before looking at the card again.

"Sofia Elena... Bern...-"

"Bernheimer" I said.

"Interesting. Is it German?"

"Yeah. I could've sworn I mentioned being part German before."

"Do you speak German?" he asked.

"Not much." I said "My dad didn't speak it around me."

"I see." he said "So, I imagine he lived the fall of the Berlin Wall?"

"Well, he was born in Mexico."

"Oh. And your grandparents? Why did they leave Germany?"

"What...? What are you trying to get at?" I asked, giving myself no time to think of the response at all.

I knew what my tone had been like before he looked at the wall in front of him, and then at the floor.

"I'm sorry" I said "I know- I guess you're just curious."

"No, I'm sorry too. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I know." I said and went to sit on the chair I used the first time I went to his place.

"Won't you come to my bedroom?" he asked, already walking towards it.

Even though I stood up again, I didn't walk towards him.

"What is it?" he asked.

I couldn't have been able to answer that question, and because of that I approached him to avoid replying.

"So what position do you like for blowjobs?" I asked.

Whether it was him pretending to be shocked or not, he turned around with wide open eyes.

"Not sure. I guess I like it best when I can see it all." he said.

I was confused by his wording until he took a chair and put facing a full-body mirror that wasn't hung but resting at an angle on the wall. For a second I wondered if he had gotten it mainly for that purpose.

"Oh," I said, and before I could think of anything else, he spoke again.

"Take off your clothes," he said, in the tone close to that of a question, but coming off a bit harsher because of the depth of his voice.

I started undoing the zip of my dress, and I noticed he was just watching. He only looked at my face when I stopped.

"Won't you undress too?"

"I like it the most to be clothed and the woman fully naked." he said.

I wasn't innocent to kinks, and I'd heard of that before. It was a pretty mild one, especially after I'd seen him smell and lick my asshole, so I let it go unquestioned.

"But you're just there, staring." I told him, letting the dress fall to the floor.

"Let me help you, then." he said.

Even before I had taken off my bra, he got closer to me to take my panties down my legs. He stopped once they were uncovering my ass but still around my thighs. I pulled them down to my knees and then let them fall on their own. Not sure of whether I was in fact embarrassed, or performing embarrassment because I was starting to get the feel he was into it, but regardless, I covered my pubic hair with my right hand and with the left I took the straps off the bra. Staring into my eyes, he reached for the clasp of my bra and undid it with both hands. With all my clothes on the floor, the floor of his bedroom, he took a few steps away from me and I felt my heart beating faster. I must recognize I was afraid for more than a moment, and I can't put into words what exactly I feared. That maybe he'd take my clothes and throw them out the window? Or that he'd leave the room and leave me in solitude, but in his own room, to think about how I was doing something adults did and was normal, but the people who loved me wouldn't like to know about. And worst of all, the knowledge that these thoughts crossing my mind said more about me than about him.

"Take that hand off your pussy." he said, then sat on his bed to stare at my body.

But before, I said I'd blow him. Was it more embarrassing to perform oral sex or to have it performed on you? I wish there was an objective answer to that. I stared at him as I did what he told me to, begging him with my gaze to tell me that it was all fine and there was nothing to be *actually* ashamed of. But I wasn't direct enough for that. And in any case, I didn't want to be one to need comfort, much less to ask for it.

It was always difficult to tell with accuracy whether I would cry or get aroused from seeing and doing things that reminded me of rape, until I actually got to see them or do them. My reaction would always be either of the two, so now I had to focus on arousal to avoid crying. I interrupted my eye contact with him, and looked at the floor to find my dress and put it back on.

"Sofia? What's wrong?" he said, and got up from the bed to get closer.

I controlled my breathing. If I started crying, I would have to tell him, and it simply wasn't the time or the place. And another thing I didn't love admitting: I was, in fact, somewhat aroused at that moment, even if it was just for the expectation of his tenderness. But there was no way out of the fact that I did feel it was too much. The most realistic explanation was the real one, and I shrouded it even by telling something that was still true.

"It just feels strange." I said, the wording of course implying that it was a new sensation "Just you looking but doing nothing else."

"Alright" he said. Had it been a hug, I would have probably burst into tears, but instead he put a hand on my shoulder. "What do you want to do?"

"I said I wanted to suck your dick." I said, suddenly feeling bold, but still feeling myself blushing without a doubt.

"Do you want to do it clothed?" he asked.

"No" I said "I'm fine. I think it's... I think it's just the fact that you were just staring and not touching me that I didn't like that much."

Yes, that was indeed what made it different from the slight embarrassment but much more significant arousal of him taking off my clothes.

"Okay. Don't worry, I really love touching you." he said, and started kissing my neck and shoulders.

I couldn't help but moan, I especially liked when he kissed on the side of my neck, close to the back of the ear. As a response, I put my right hand on his back only to touch it softly through his shirt. Then he stopped, looked at me and closed his eyes as he got his face closer to mine. I closed my eyes as well, and just opened my mouth slightly and let him kiss me however he wanted, as I took a part of his shirt and grabbed it with a fist. Maybe because I was nervous, or didn't know what to do with my hands.

At some point, I intentionally touched his crotch as he kept kissing me.

"Do you want to see my cock?" he asked.

"Yes" I said.

He got his arms away from my body to sit down on the chair he'd placed in front of the mirror. I started taking off the straps of my dress, but once I felt the fact I was fully naked again, I took refuge in kneeling in front of him and hiding my head on his crotch, my face turned to the side to one of his legs. I heard and felt him unzip his pants and pull his boxers down. When I turned to look, he'd only pulled them down enough for me to see his dick and balls entirely. He started to stroke my hair and I said nothing, only started licking it to tease him the same way he'd done with me that first time. But I eventually wanted a reaction from him, so I got the tip inside my mouth and started sucking back and forth. I wasn't able to get it all in my mouth so I put my hand around the base. That's when he started breathing heavily. I myself wondered sometimes if men suppressed moans at times, and I wanted to see if he would do it at some point. I forced myself to take in as much as I could, to the point of only having my thumb and two fingers around his cock, and then his grip on my head got stronger, but he wasn't pushing me deeper.

"Ah, fuck... My love." he said.

I chalked it up to him not having a lot of experience with dirty talk in English, because it came off a bit too intimate and serious at that moment. But it was still hot, his 一intentional or not一 commitment to making fucking out to be something romantic, with his kissing and his words of concern for me, and now calling me something that would usually be reserved for someone who is, in fact, one's love.

When I heard it, I waited a bit to change it up, and kept sucking as I did at first, at times trying to take it all in again here and there. But after a few minutes I wanted to do something different so I took his cock out of my mouth and got it out of the way so I could start licking one of his balls.

"Fuck..." he kept going, and caressing my scalp with a bit of harshness. It would have been a scratch if his nails weren't so short, so it was more of a massage. Not sure if he did it precisely to give me some pleasure but that's what he did anyway.

I got one of his balls inside my mouth and kept sucking on it, then moved to the other one, to do the same, lick it and then get it inside my mouth. And there I licked it as I had it inside, as if it were a tongue I was French-kissing.

"Don't you want to touch yourself?" he asked me when I paused for a second.

I looked at him and smiled, then started touching the outside of my pussy because I was a bit wet and wanted to get some on my clit to touch it. I turned to look at him and he was staring at the mirror, looking at me masturbating.

"That's hot... Baby." he said.

Then I took his cock again with my left hand and kept sucking as I'd done before, and he kept looking at my reflection. It made me horny for some reason that he preferred to look at my body and myself masturbating instead of looking at himself getting a blowjob. Although that was probably because one thing was much more immediate on the senses and the other you had to search for with your vision.

Then I started trying to deepthroat him again, but was focusing too much on my clit to last long doing it. However, at some point he started doing what I imagined was the closest to a moan he'd make. He didn't push me but kept my head in a position where my mouth was taking almost as much as it could, and I could focus on pleasuring myself as he did that.

"Can I cum in your mouth?" he asked, taking my mouth off his cock and stroking it himself.

"Yes" I said without thinking, although I didn't mind either way.

He got his cock in my mouth and immediately I felt hot drops inside my mouth. I was never sure what expression to make, so I just looked at him, and for a moment he took his eyes away from the reflection of my ass on the mirror and looked into my eyes. Then he smiled and closed his eyes. Still sitting, he tilted his head back and sighed.