Alight Upon the Sky

Story Info
Mysterious dream voice leads Craig to adventure.
5.2k words
4.55
14k
2
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

I.Dream Voice

"Come, come. For you and I shall alight upon the sky."

Again, the voice spoke the same words. No face. Just a voice from the depths of my dreams.

Am I crazy to follow her siren song? A woman I've never met. A voice I don't recognize.

The hotel room's ceiling offers no answer to my thought question.

Life back in California was comfortable. All my needs were met. I had plenty of money. Especially after I sold my company. Was that a big mistake? Hell, the suits didn't think so. They were eager to shell out millions for rights to my software. Either they thought it has enormous potential or maybe they were scared I would grow into a competitor. But who cares? Either way, the money was insanely good. And it really wasn't the end of an era. Just the end of a chapter.

Then life became ... what? Dull? Meaningless? Starting a new company was so fucking thrilling. But it was replaced too soon by the grind, by endless meetings with accountants, lawyers, office managers complaining about having enough pens and staplers and reams of paper. God, I won't miss that shit.

So ... now what? Is this the beginning of a new chapter? But what the fuck is it? Am I nuts to drop everything with Christmas around the corner and come up to Alaska just because I think the voice is leading me here?

All I know are the words. Same ones repeated nightly for several weeks now. Rising out of the murkiness in my deep sleep. Rising to the top of my subconscious and bursting like a bubble on the surface of water. A sweet, seductive, feminine voice.

"Oh, wow. You ready for more, huh?"

Another voice. Also feminine, but more real. Not inside my head. Right next to me.

Alison (Alice? Lucy?), watching me for who knows how long, watching me watch the ceiling. Blurry eyed. Some of the glittery makeup was still mixed with her freckles.

"I was hoping I exhausted you last night," she says.

She turns her head, and I follow her line of sight. Yeah, I'm certainly ready. Tent's already set up.

"But obviously not," she concludes.

I kiss her mouth, slightly annoyed at her bad breath, but ultimately not caring, and kiss harder.

But she pulls back.

"Woah there, Craig. Lemme brush my teeth, okay?"

Which means I should too. Nobody has good breath in the morning. "I'm right behind you," I say.

I'm glad she doesn't try to cover up as she leaves the bed. Her lean, naked body walking to the bathroom makes for great viewing.

Water splashes from the faucet. Toothpaste cap hits the counter.

What a find she was. Complete luck. There I was, wondering around a mall in trying to figure out what the fuck I was doing in Anchorage and what to do next.

And there she was, on break from college, in the winter wonderland set. One of Santa's helpers dealing with cranky kids who wanted to sit on Santa's lap. Fuck Santa. I was more interested in this chick with the pretty face and red tights.

My gift of a hot mocha had snagged her attention. A friendly gift from a total stranger.

"Just the thing I needed," she had said. "Short of a tequila shot, of course."

"How about we get one of those after your shift?" Much better than any corny pick-up line.

And successful, too. After she changed into normal clothes, we ate dinner at a funky restaurant way away from the mall. We had great conversation and laughter over succulent smoked salmon and a tequila shot, followed by a few beers.

Dinner was followed by a giggling walk to my hotel, kissing in the elevator ride to my floor, and clumsy shedding of clothes inside my room. Then this Santa's helper helped me to three orgasms, and I returned each spurting favor. She was surprised when I told her to sit on my face. Surprised, but damn, did she cry out and give our neighbors a thrill.

Now Alison returns to the foot of the bed, brushing away at her teeth.

"You were totally lost in thought," she says, my bright purple toothbrush paused inside her mouth. "What were you thinking about?"

"You. Last night. Your sweet body."

She seems to enjoy my gaze over her perky tits and ginger bush. Who doesn't like flattery?

Then I remember an image from last night, of her below me, face flush with pleasure, light from outside the window flickering on her glitter makeup. "Hey, where's your hat?"

Her eyes roll to the ceiling for a moment. She moves to her side of the bed, bends over to the floor, and produces the red Santa's helper hat. White fur trim. White puff ball. She tosses it to me.

"So what's up with you and that hat?"

I whisk the sheet off of me. Her eyes widen.

"Part of the package," I say as she rushes back to the bathroom. Water splashes again. "When I saw you with that hat and red tights, God, I wanted to be Santa so you could sit onmy lap. You know, I don't think Mrs. Claus is old and frumpy at all. I bet she's a hot little bitch. A lap dancer."

Alison, hair swishing, appears at the foot of the bed. Smiles at the hat on my head. Slides on top of me. Guides my tent pole into her as her face relaxes in relief. As if to say,finally.

I pull her arms to bring her torso down so I can kiss her lips again. Fuck it if my morning breath is bad. She's got a fresh, tingly mouth that tastes of peppermint, the taste of candy canes, of red swirly hard poles like the one she's riding, the one sliding inside of her warm pussy as her hips pump and she kisses me back harder.

II.Meeting a Guide

"You from National Geographic or something?"

Grizzled totally fits the bill for Derek Phelps. Grizzled is what you call gnarly old cowboys and gold prospectors in movie Westerns. Derek Phelps has plenty of wrinkles to go around, skin like leather, graying hair, salt-and-pepper stubble on his cheeks that probably hasn't seen a razor in a couple of weeks.

"Nope," I answer. "I just want to see some wild parts of Alaska and take lots of pictures. Namely, I want to go to that place."

I point to the piece of paper on his lap.

I had spent hours and hours searching the Internet for a destination. If I was going to follow the voice, then where should I go? For some strange reason, I thought snow and mountains. Who knows why.

The easy choices were Canada and Alaska. Sure, there were other parts of the world that have snow and mountains most of the year, but I wanted to start with the easy ones. So I searched tons of websites. And searched and searched. Empty soda cans lined my desk.

Finally, my tired eyes had lit up when I clicked on a link and an image appeared on my computer screen. My gut immediately told me that it was the place. Gorgeous. A postcard of Alaskan wilderness. Snow-covered mountains and evergreens encircling a lake.

Sure, I had seen Big Sur, the Sierras, and Lake Tahoe. All were incredibly beautiful. But something about the image on my screen stopped me in my tracks. It spoke of a place truly wild, not 30 minutes drive from a mall. A place of howling wolves, soaring eagles, and huge grizzly bears. A place where you'd find no tracks of humans in the snow.

Then what about the woman with the voice in my dreams? Did she actually live there? Did she have a cozy little cabin in those fierce woods? Did she talk with the animals and live off berries and pine cones?

I was fucking loony.

And yet there was that something in the image and voice that made my heart beat faster. Blood thudded in my skull, conjuring bright colors shifting together and apart like in some weird new age video used for meditating.

Hell, if it was excitement I was after, I could've bought a motorcycle or skied the slopes in Colorado.

But no. The voices in my head were telling me to go to Alaska.

On the plane ride up to Anchorage, as I leafed through my guidebook on Alaska, I couldn't shake a bizarre thought: I'm going to the North Pole.

Grizzled Derek Phelps grunts and shuffles the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. "Huh. This is Denali all right. But it's way off season. Christmas and all that."

His unspoken question: What was I doing all alone, obviously far from home, wanting to dive into the wilderness?

I shrug it off. "What good is it with crowds of tourists?"

The toothpick pauses and he looks me in the eye. "Huh. This part of Denali, the tourist buses don't go. No roads. It wouldn't be crowded in the middle of the busy season. Nope. We'll have to fly in."

I don't waver from his challenge of eye contact to show him that I'm serious. Hey, I called him. Saw his ad in the Yellow Pages touting genuine Alaskan adventures and rang him up.

I say, "No problem here. And you've got enough gear for me? Cold-weather sleeping bag and all that?"

"Yup."

"So be it. I've got a camera. When can we leave?"

He nods and seems satisfied with my persistence in wanting to check out Denali National Park for myself. "In a couple of days."

He pauses for a beat, then says, "Just don't expect gourmet meals."

III.Arrival

The plane's bumpy landing jars me. It seems very wrong to land on water instead of land.

But my stress quickly fades as I'm even more awe-struck by the beauty of the lake ringed by mountains. Our circling descent had given lots of phenomenal views, but nothing compared to the hugeness once we are safely back on Mother Earth. Towering above us, the whitish-blue mountains are so vast, so much larger than us that I feel like a tiny insignificant speck.

Does the chick in my dreams really live here? Or is this just a meeting place?

But thisis the place. The feeling had spread over me the closer we came, and now I'm sure of it. The same feeling as, when taking the SATs, you fill in the bubble for C with your number 2 pencil and you're absolutely certain it's the right answer. I have no idea why I think this is the right place, but the feeling is there.

It's the same place I saw on my computer screen. Here's the deep blue lake. The mountains. The thick forest circles around most of the lake, with snow icing on the dark green branches. The snowy field lays on one side of the lake, where a herd of caribou had trampled when our plane flew in.

Caribou like reindeer.

The thought pops up unexpectedly. It's a decent comparison. Caribou, with their large racks of antlers, look a lot like reindeer. Bigger and bulkier, caribou could probably pull a heavier sleigh, one carrying gifts for all the boys and girls of the world.

Ha.

"Well, here we are." Derek's gruff voice breaks my train of thought.

And sure enough, the plane had brought us to the bank of the lake. Derek clicks open his door, allowing crisp, cold air in. I've never tasted air so fresh.

"I'll set up a campsite," Derek says as he steps onto the pontoon. "You take all the pictures you want of the lake. Then we'll go experience. I don't want you going off by yourself, okay? Too many critters out here don't take kindly to us coming into their neighborhood."

IV.Early Morning Attack

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Huh? What? It's dark. Inside the yellow tent, inside the warm sleeping bag. My dream of flying over mountains is snapped.

"Craig! The gun!"

Derek. Frantic. He's not in the tent. Snarls. Deep, guttural snarls that scare the shit out of me. Bear? Derek's warning yesterday as we built a fire: "Those grizzlies'll eat ya for a snack." Bear or yeti or some crazy shit out of a Stephen King book. Whatever. The thing making those snarls is huge and mean, and I don't want to move. My heartbeat trips into a sprint. My mouth shoots panting breaths into frosty clouds

Rustling. Crashing.

"Craig, Goddamnit!"

Lower. Muffled. Farther away?

My shaking hands somehow unzip the sleeping bag. What the fuck are you doing? Stay right here. Why? You can't run. And you gotta run. That thing'll smash this tent up and you won't know what hit you. Gotta get the fuck out.

"Fuck!"

The tent flap zips down easily. Trees, snow, dark, like I'm stuck in a scary movie. Ground's cold under my socked feet. I forgot boots. A flashlight's on the ground, its beam brightening snow on the ground and trees.

Screams give out their position. Screamsnot like in a scary movie. Not even close to that fake shit. The sound is somewhat muffled by snow, but still the core of the screams get through, the screams of a man in pure pain and fear. My hair jumps. Ice plummets into my stomach.

There. Not even 50 yards away. The grizzly, hunched over, swipes at something under it. Derek. Screaming, writhing Derek with arms and legs flailing.

I'm frozen from fright and cold. My shaking legs are cemented to the ground. I can't look away from the horror. If I could, maybe I could find the gun or what's left of our campfire and maybe there are hot coals to throw or maybe run up a tree—

The grizzly's head swivels toward me. Such a little head on a such a massive body. Massive paws. Bloody paws and claws.

It snarls.

Which breaks my trance. I run. Thank God I don't trip over the tent. I run in the direction opposite of the bear and stop at the closest tree, jump for the nearest branch, grab with bare hands, my socked feet hit the trunk and push against the cold bark, I pull myself up and start scrambling up, thank God, oh, thank God I ran and didn't stay in the tent and am in a safe place.

Crashing and thrashing of the bear rushing at me. Crunching of snow under a huge weight. How the fuck can it move so quickly?

I grab branch after branch, climb up and up, sticks scrape against my face, snow falls on my head, clumps of snow falling from rustling branches above me.

The bear arrives at the base of the tree.

Oh, fuck.

Snarls up at me. It stands on its hind legs, front paws steadying on the tree. Its little black eyes look pissed. How could I have the gall to run away and not stand there like a good boy and take my punishment.

I pull myself closer to the tree's trunk, plant my thundering chest against it and hug the trunk because I'm now certain the grizzly will start shaking the tree to get me down. You can flop the tree back and forth, pal, but I'll never let go. You're going to have to chop this motherfucker down.

V.Aurora

"Jabari."

The voice. From somewhere in the dark woods. That's it. That's the fucking voice from my dreams. Unmistakable.

"Jabari, that's enough."

The grizzly gazes into the darkness for a moment, then looks up at me. Then its front paws slide down the tree and all four paws rest on the ground.

"Good. Now come here, please."

The unseen woman talks calmly, as if she's addressing a child who's acting up. And it works. Unbelievably, the bear does as it's told. It takes it's time ambling away, spewing frosty puffs from its muzzle.

Still, my heart's hammering away and I can't believe danger has passed.

"Craig, you may come down now. Jabari won't hurt you. He was a little too ... enthusiastic."

Should I believe her? Did she call to me over thousands of miles to feed me to a grizzly for slaughter? Then I'm the biggest sucker on Earth.

"Craig."

The voice is closer now. It's a soothing voice, one to calm your fears, persuade and entice you.

Fuck it. I've traveled too far to wuss out and hug a frozen tree. When I'm back on the ground, my feet are instantly cold and I can't see her. The flashlight near the tent still gives the only illumination, but I need a more powerful searchlight.

"Craig."

There. Walking between two snowy trees, a figure coming toward me. She stoops for the flashlight and in that moment, I can make out details. Long dark hair flows over a dark green coat. Pretty face with big doey eyes. She clicks off the flashlight and the details fade as my eyes adjust. She stands up, continues walking toward me.

"Who are you?" Finally, I've found my voice.

"Aurora."

She stops maybe ten yards away. Not really a great conversation distance. I realize that she's barefoot. Her coat hangs to her ankles, but then it's bare skin. Huh? At least I have a great excuse for not wearing boots. And my feet are really fucking cold. Like the rest of me.

"I invited you here because you've lost your direction and your sense of wonder."

Huh?

"I-I don't get it." My shivering lips spit it out. Why isn't she shivering?

"You're lost. I have a suggestion to give you direction. Start a toy company."

"What? Hold on. I came all the way up here for you to tell me to start a toy company?"

"That's right."

Am I hallucinating? The cold numbing my brain? I can't make out her face enough to read it.

She continues, "Create toys that give children a sense of wonder. Challenge them. Entertain them. Show them how magical the world can be."

North Pole? Reindeer? Hey, those were caribou and this is bullshit. "What? I don't get it. Are you trying to tell me to start a business for Santa Claus?"

"No. I'm asking you to become a Santa Claus. One of hundreds around the world. Make magical gifts for parents to give their children all year. But especially on Christmas."

"Wait. Lemme guess. You're the head elf?"

She starts walking toward me and says, "Not at all. Just one of many."

"This is nuts."

"No. This is the wonder that you've lost."

She stops. She's even prettier up close. Her fingers meet at the top of her coat at her neck. They pull apart her coat. It cascades down, falling to one side, and she's entirely naked.

Holy shit.

Pale skin of sweet, plump tits. Softly breathing stomach. Triangle of closely trimmed pubic hair. Slender thighs.

Somehow, I'm warmer. As if waves of warmth flow off of Aurora's naked body.

Something touches my shoulders.

"Fuck!" I jump back.

"Don't worry," Aurora says, still calm.

There are two others. Two elves or whatever the hell Aurora is. Younger, feminine faces. Dressed in similar coats. Both have long dark hair, but one has streaks of auburn, and the other has streaks of forest green. Punk elves?

"Don't worry," Aurora repeats, smiling, those brown doey eyes glistening. "Let them undress you."

Could this get any weirder? I'm warm enough now, so that's no problem. I figure she's naked, so it's only polite.

I nod.

The elf chicks quickly come over and start yanking my sweater over my head. Now that they're close, I can see that their coats are made of what looks like interwoven pine needs, and they aren't really coats but cloaks because they part in the front to reveal pale skin.

My sweater's off, then my long underwear shirt's off. They kneel and unbutton my jeans, tug at each pant leg, and I awkwardly balance on one leg, then the other, so they can pull off my jeans.

Aurora snaps her cloak into the air, and it sinks to the ground in a flat square, much as you would to set up a picnic blanket.

The elf chicks slip off my long underwear pants, and I'm hanging out for all of Alaska to see. But I'm not the least bit cold. I can't even see my breath anymore. My cheeks flush in embarrassment. Then my socks are removed, and I'm completely stripped. My cock, probably still warming up, hangs limply.

Still kneeling beside me, the elf chick with auburn-streaked hair kisses the head of my cock.

Oh, my God. I gasp from surprise as my member leaps to life, flooded with hot pumping blood.

The elf chick swallows me whole, and I grow inside of her mouth. God, it feels amazing. Warm and tingly, like she has an Altoid stuck in her cheek along with my cock. When I'm good and hard, she releases me. The other elf chick, the one with the green-streaked hair, grasps my shaft and licks it up and down.

Holy shit. I can't believe it. Not long ago, I was being attacked by a crazed grizzly, and now I'm being blown by two elves. I tear my eyes away from the tops of their heads to see Aurora looking straight at me with kind eyes, as if to say,Enjoy the magic and wonder.

12