I rolled onto my right side and snuggled into Jasmine's back with a contented sigh, the first rays of morning sun not yet lighting the cabin's windows. Tucked far back into my sixty acres of woodland, early mornings were a dark and peaceful time. Breathing deeply, I inhaled her scent, enjoying the faint floral smell of some unnamable flower. Today was Saturday and I didn't have to get up. Except I was already up. I smiled with my private joke as I pressed my hard cock against Jasmine's shapely ass, a thrill of pleasure washing over me as I did.
The six years since Jasmine first fucked my brains out on the forest floor had been the happiest of my life. I no longer chased women, no longer prowled night clubs, and I no longer modeled or competed. I missed none of that. I was at peace and content in ways I'd never been before, and it was all because of her.
I'd allowed my hair to grow. The dark hair on my head was only slightly longer than I'd worn it before Jasmine, but it was the rest of my body that displayed the most change. When I modeled and competed as a natural body builder, I kept my body hairless to better show off the cut of my physique, but Jasmine seemed to prefer the hairier me, so I'd stopped the practice.
If I was truthful with myself, large part of the reason I kept myself in shape before was to pull chicks. Prior to Jasmine, I often modeled for romance novel covers. Depending on the state of undress for the shoot, and the women I modeled with, after the shoot was over we'd sometimes go somewhere private and act out what the covers only suggested. Looking good for the camera, judges, or other women was no longer a concern of mine. Now there was only one person whose approval I craved, and she liked me as I was, not as I had been.
I still worked out hard, needing to stay in shape to have any hope of satisfying her sexual needs when she was in heat, but over the last couple of years, since she'd moved in with me, I'd lost my hard edge. Jasmine had done the same. When we'd first met she was the iron maiden, but in the last couple of years she'd softened with the change in her in diet. She was still amazingly fit, more so than probably ninety-five percent of women in the world, of human women I amended to myself, but now with her thin layer of fat, she'd softened slightly, and was more beautiful than ever.
I inhaled deeply again, my eyes closed as sleep tried to tug me back into its darkened embrace. She was between her heats, and that allowed us to make slow, tender love. Not that I didn't enjoy our loud, almost violent, animalistic fucking when she was in heat, but I enjoyed our tender moments even more. I wanted for nothing from her sexually. Ten weeks of out twelve she was the soft, loving seductress, but every twelve weeks or so she came into heat, and then for two weeks she was the insatiable, hard-fucking bitch. No woman could compete with her, either side of her, and I loved her more than life itself.
My thumb slowly caressed the nipple of her left breast. If she woke before I fell back to sleep we could make love and then sleep again. If not, we had all day to enjoy each other. I was almost asleep, still slowly, gently, caressing her nipple as I cupped her breast, when she bolted upright, her sudden movement startling me.
"What?" I cried into the quiet of the room, my heart instantly pounding in my chest.
Jasmine had far better senses than I did, able to see, hear, and smell things I couldn't, and my first thought was an intruder had arrived at our small cabin.
Because of who she was, Jasmine had to remain hidden. I'd taken every precaution I could to keep her safe from humanity, afraid of what would happen to her, and the rest of her people, if she were discovered. The alarm across the drive hadn't signaled the passing of a vehicle, but I couldn't protect the entire property, and if someone were arriving on foot...
"What is it?" I asked as I pulled my pistol from the nightstand. I'd purchased the Glock 9mm when she moved into the cabin with me. If anyone saw her, and realized who she was, they were the walking dead.
"My clan here," she said.
Jasmine hadn't seen her clan since we bonded two years ago. "Here? How do you know?"
"I hear clan call," she said as she rolled out of bed.
There were a lot of things about Jasmine I didn't understand, and some of her abilities were, for all I could tell, magical. "You hear them? As in... hear?" I asked as I touched my ear.
She nodded. "Yes. They near."
She left the bedroom and moved through the kitchen to the rear door and stepped out. She never wore clothing and I'd have it no other way. I quickly jerked on pants, threw on a shirt, and stuffed my feet into shoes before I followed. I wasn't as equipped to deal with the wilderness without protection as she was.
By the time I reached the door she was gone. I huffed out a sigh. Nothing unusual there. I could be walking beside her through the forest, and with a burst of speed, she could disappear in less than five seconds. It was one of her favorite games. She'd melt into the forest like a ghost, only to unexpectedly reappear later to scare the shit out of me. She would chuff out her laugh as I tried to restart my heart, then we would often wrestle, chase, and play. I had no hope of catching and subduing her until she allowed me too, but I was well rewarded for trying.
"Jasmine?" I called.
I received no answer. I shivered with the coolness of the morning as I tucked and fastened. I didn't consider searching for her. My sixty acres adjoined the four million acres of the Okanogan-Wenatchee National Forest, and I had as much chance of finding her as I did of finding the lost city of El Dorado. I knew she'd return when she was ready.
I stepped back into the kitchen and closed the door. My cabin was small, only about twelve hundred square feet, but it was our home. Finished in honey colored wood, the large central room of the log cabin served as a living area and kitchen, with a single bedroom and bath to one side. I stood, staring at nothing as I tried to decide what to do, the clock on the microwave flicking to 4:37 as I watched.
I was munching on fresh blueberries and a granola bar for breakfast when Jasmine entered. Her face was troubled.
"What's wrong?"
"My... how do you say... my old-mother killing. She asking for me."
Jasmine's people didn't measure time in the same way humans did. They had no concept of weeks, months, or years. Everything was measured in days, and her people were either an infant, child, adult, or old.
"Your mother?"
She shook her head. "No. My mother mother."