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Heroin Daydream 's Stories

Compassion by Heroin Daydream


ComĚpasĚsion (kom-paah-shun) n. 1.Deep awareness of the suffering of another coupled with the wish to relieve it.

25-year old Arthur Pratkin squinted at the boiling July sunlight as he trudged down the metropolitan sidewalk. 'Another day on the grind,' he thought blandly as he approached a crosswalk. Arthur lived within 2 blocks of his office building, where he sat behind a desk all day. To save a couple of bucks, he normally would walk the route in his shirt and tie. Today, however this proved to be excessively difficult as temperatures were approaching 90 degrees. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, and he could feel the heat all over his tanned, muscular body.

He always dreaded this part of the day as he walked past the soup kitchen. Arthur lived in a poor part of town, though he himself was not necessarily poor; he lived alone, and he made enough money to keep a roof over his head and food in his stomach, indulging himself to a personal luxury every now and then. The poor and unfortunate lined the walkway, begging for money. He was not a selfish man, and would give sometimes merely out of pity for the unlucky souls. It was something he never looked forward to, however, as the tragedy in their eyes was always something that put him in an unhappy mood. He felt horrible and he wished there was more he could do.

Until that fateful morning...

Art was taking the usual route to his work, once again passing the soup kitchen; when he noticed, near the end of the line of beggars...a woman near the end of the line, about 60 years old...he did not know what drew him to her other than perhaps the look in her eyes, as she stared at him. It was magnetic. He was not attracted to this woman. If anything, he was repulsed. She was missing a good amount of teeth, and she looked like she could use a bath or two. As he drew closer, he could detect a faint whiff of cheap whiskey.

But something about her was absolutely compelling. Her gaze penetrated him like nothing he had ever felt. He stopped and as he saw the sorrow in her eyes, he nearly began to weep out of anguish for this poor woman. He stopped to hear her story. Time was forgotten as he listened to the sad tale of an old woman whose grandchildren couldn't afford shoes and whose deadbeat son had left her with his children.

It wasn't so much the story that drew Arthur in so much as that look...that intense, piercing gaze that seemed to bore into his soul. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a $100 bill. He offered to take the woman to breakfast, forgetting completely about the paperwork he knew must have been piling on his desk moment by moment.

Angela, which was the woman's name, seemed bewildered, but soon became comfortable as he realized that Arthur was sincere. He took her to a local fast food joint where they sat down and began to talk.

"So what's the catch, mister? I know you didn't take me out because you think I'm cute," Angela said suspiciously.

"I'm kind of confused about that myself," replied Arthur, "I guess I just wanted to understand what you were going through."

They built a bond over the course of the next couple of weeks where they became the oddest pair of "friends." Arthur and Angela would have breakfast, they would talk, and Arthur would always leave her with some money to buy some necessities. He would eventually learn about Angela's experience with her estranged son, and how she came into the situation that she was in. Angela was truly grateful for everything that Arthur did for her, and was actually embarrassed about the conditions in which she was living. She would leave Arthur every day after breakfast, and although Arthur always would ask where she was going, she would walk away without a word.

This confused Arthur. He didn't push the issue. 'She's ashamed enough already. I don't want to make her feel worse,' he would always say to himself. He did not know whether to call this woman his friend, or whether to call her anything at all. All he knew is that when he looked into her boring, brown spite of himself, he was bound to hang on her every word. There was nothing about her that would set her apart from any other homeless old woman...except that look in her eyes...that look!

Several weeks later, it was a day just like any other...Arthur would walk into the restaurant where they would always meet, and Angela walked in. They ate, and talked, like normal. As they were preparing to leave, Arthur worked up his nerve and asked Angela the question he needed to know the answer to. He had been up sleepless nights imagining the hovel where Angela lived and slept, and it tortured his soul.

"Angela, you've avoided me long enough. I have to know. When you leave in the mornings... where do you go?" he said softly.

Angela broke into a small smile, somewhat wistfully. Arthur thought he saw a tear in her eye. "I'm too ashamed, Mr. Pratkin. I don't want you to see where I live. I don't know what you would say."

"You don't have to be ashamed, Angela. I promise I will not look down on you because of it. I just want to help."

She looked him deep in the eyes for a moment. He felt as if his soul would explode. After what seemed like an eternity, she replied, "Can you afford a cab?"

The driver gave them a "what-the-fuck?" kind of look as they stepped into the taxi. Angela handed the driver a piece of paper with her address on it. He read the paper. His eyebrows raised a millimeter and he gave the old woman another look. She nodded.

They began to move. Not a word was spoken between the suited man and the unkempt old woman. Arthur snuck a couple of peeks over at Angela while they drove, and she seemed to be in another universe, her eyes shut closed and her aging shoulders relaxed. He decided to relax too and looked out the window.

He realized that they were approaching the better off, affluent neighborhoods. What the hell is going on here? Art thought as they stopped in front of a white mansion-style house. He paid the driver and the two stepped out of the cab.

Arthur stared at Angela with astonishment. "What the hell are we doing here?" Angela gave a coy grin and walked to the door of the palace, opening the door and walking in like she owned the joint!

"Not everything is as it seems, Mr. Pratkin," she remarked in a voice that Arthur did not recognize as she floated through the doorway.

Arthur began to get a little upset. "Have you been feeding me bullshit this whole time, Angela?" he said icily as he walked in the door behind her, "you aren't really homeless, are you?"

Angela looked at him and gave a chuckle. She walked up the stairs slowly and he followed. He was furious.

"Explain yourself!" he shouted as he followed her up the stairs. She simply ignored him and walked into a spacious bedroom where there were two women in the room, talking. Angela clicked her fingers and they snapped to attention.

"Leave Mr. Pratkin and I alone for a while, girls," Angela said. The serving women shuffled off quickly.

Arthur inspected the room as Angela closed the door behind them. It was a large, round room with white furniture and curtains, with a large canopy bed in the middle of the room. There were lights had been dimmed and there were candles lit, and he smelled the essence of sandalwood as he took everything in. At this point he was flabbergasted and was about to speak when the diminutive old woman interrupted.

"Everything you do on this earth is documented, Arthur," said Angela lightly, "but not on this earth. You see, Mr. Pratkin, you have been given a test. A test of common decency." Arthur began to notice a change in her as she continued to speak. "You were given a very simple test...a test that many would fail. It was a test of MERCY, Arthur. And although you knew that nothing would ever come of knew you would receive no reward, or anything," she said slowly, "You still did what you did. You sacrificed your money and time to show an insignificant old woman that you cared."

"And now," she said with a grin, "you are to be rewarded by the most high."

Arthur blinked with confusion as the old woman he knew as Angela began to change shape. Her form changed completely, and when the transformation was over, a beautiful, voluptuous woman with long, flowing red hair and a floor length, low cut white evening gown stood before him. She was easily the most perfect woman that Arthur had ever seen. But, incredibly, he looked and attached to her back...WINGS?

"You see, Arthur," as she stepped toward him slowly, "I am an angel, sent from heaven to check up on you." A seductive smile crossed her face as she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. "And it appears you passed."

Her lips touched his and he was set afire. 'I knew there was something in those eyes,' he thought to himself. 'This is too good to be true!' He felt her firm, full breasts as they pushed up against his chest and he began to lose control as his manhood jumped to attention. He knew that he had to have this woman and she was willing to do whatever it took to please him.

He began to kiss her neck and she moaned through her teeth. She began to grip him as the smell of her cream began to emanate through the room. Arthur moved down from her neck to the tops of her large breasts and began to kiss them with a fiery passion. He was hard and ready, and Angela was obviously expecting this kind of reaction, as her pussy was wetter than a rainforest.

She got down on her knees and began to unbuckle his pants. She ran her hand over his sizeable bulge while she fumbled with his belt buckle. His eyes rolled back in his head and he stood openmouthed with disbelief.

Angela dropped his pants and boxer briefs to the floor, freeing his thick 8" cock, which was standing straight out and was hard as a rock. The purple head was shiny with pre-come and it throbbed as she began breathing on his penis. She kissed the tip and let it enter slowly into her mouth, inch by inch...her mouth swirling in a circle caressing the thick rope on the underside. Arthur knew he would not last long with this treatment and he began humping his hips forward. By this point she had 5 inches in her throat and was stroking the bottom with her velvety hand as her head bobbed up and down.

She moved back to the head and drank the juice from the end of his cock and curled her tongue around in a circle on the head before going back down the shaft. Arthur almost came right then and there, but suddenly reality struck and he pulled out of her mouth, lifting the angel off the ground effortlessly. He carried her toward the bed and laid her on her back, her wings spread out behind her. They were both breathing heavily as he realized the magnitude of what was about to happen: HE WAS GOING TO FUCK AN ANGEL!

He unzipped the back of her dress slowly and he realized that she had nothing on underneath it. Her tits stood out, firm with pink nipples about 1/2" long, and he saw her soaked cunt with it's red neatly trimmed hair. Her naked body was incredible. He slipped the gown off of her and took his own shirt off so they were both nude. She pulled him down to her beautiful chest and he began to suck on her right breast like a baby who just left the womb. She began to moan with ecstasy as the pleasure from his stimulation sent shock waves through her body, leading directly to her dripping wet pussy. Arthur positioned himself above her body so his manhood was rubbing sensually up and down her engorged lips, running it over her sensitive clit. They were both on the verge of coming, and he had not even entered her yet. But that was soon to come.

As he kissed her again, his tongue entered her mouth right as he thrust into her white-hot love tunnel. Her muscles contracted around his hard cock as he pushed all the way to the hilt deep into her nether region. Arthur's cockhead rubbed over her g-spot every time as he pistoned his heavy dick into her steamy cunt. She was continuously moaning loud now, and they knew that neither of them would last long.

She pushed him over and got on top, bouncing on top of his cock, spilling her cunt-cream all over his thighs and taking him to heights of pleasure as her tight walls massaged his manhood. She rode him fast and hard as he buried his face in her tits and she ran her fingers through his hair. They were both breathing hard, so hard now.

All of a sudden, she reached the point of no return, moaning and babbling uncontrollably as she came all over his hard dick, and as her tight pussy milked his cock, he lost it and shot his white hot load deep into her womb. She screamed, coming again and again as he continued to pump until his penis began to deflate, still inside the angel. She flapped her wings behind her as she came down from her last orgasm, sighing in pleasure and collapsing on top of him. They fell asleep with his cock still inside her. He woke up the next morning to his alarm he realized it was a Saturday. Thank God. There was no way he would be able to get out of his bed after a fucking like that.

Wait a second...HIS BED?

He jumped up in alarm as he realized he was alone in his apartment. He frantically threw on some clothes, left his flat and ran down to the soup kitchen. Angela was nowhere to be found. He jumped in a cab and took it to the place where the mansion was, and as he arrived he gaped with astonishment.

It was an empty lot! In the lot stood a sign - "future site of Our Lady of Guadeloupe's Catholic Church"!

How ironic, Arthur thought. Could it have all been a dream?

As he walked back into his apartment, he decided he needed some more sleep before he faced the day. He had a deep depression in his heart as he lay down. He placed his hands under his pillow, cradling his head...?

Under the pillow...lay two telltale feathers...

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Love it? Hate it? I'd love to hear from you...this is my first attempt at writing this kind of a story. Keep it real.

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