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a night out

  Unseen high over the Atlanta suburbs, the solitary human body glided quickly and silently several hundred feet up, like the largest of the birds.  Yes, there was the occasional bird up here -- hawks, geese, orioles -- she could see them even in the darkness of this moonless night.  The air was thick, sibilant, textured, humid, and with her arms out in front of her, holding her watch in one hand, she felt the rushing oceanic texture blowing back her hair, whooshing over her butt, whistling past her nipples at the tips of her large, firm, cantaloupe-sized breasts which hung down below, past her toes which she spread and flexed, feeling the wind go around each toe.

        Past Grant Park, Ormewood, Thomasville.  Dareen, a life-long (or almost life-long) Atlanta area resident and a bookish type who liked to read maps, could recognize the clusters of lights down there, the highways delineated by the lines of street lights, the black blank areas that she knew to be lakes or ponds.  She knew the vista from the few times she had looked from airplanes, but she had a full view now, not just through a little oval window, and there was no noisy engine, just her own naked self and her senses.

        And her sensuality.  Air this thick was like swimming in water, something she’d never done naked, of course, but she could imagine it would feel as good as this.  She stopped and stretched upright, arms and legs out, standing still in mid-air, looked down past her feet and still was amazed to see nothing underneath, nothing to hold her up, to keep her from falling down into that lake down there, nothing except her newfound super powers.


        She never felt so alive, as she hovered, her hard concave tummy breathing in and out.  She could see miles in each direction.  She could see that little flock of ducks heading southwest; what, they must be two miles away and she could still hear their quacking to each other, she almost felt like she understood what they were saying.  Now, she heard a little splish from that lake, a catfish swirling to the surface to catch a dragonfly.  “I feel sorry for the average person, I can see so much more, can hear so much more.”


        And she felt so much more.  What human had ever been lucky enough to feel all these sensations?  And to fly!  Lucky, yes, that’s what she was.  She was still modest Dareen, and would be mortified if anyone saw her naked like this, but there was no one to see way up here in the dark.  This was her own private world, way up here at night, out of town.  No, she wasn’t alone; she felt like the birds knew she was here, maybe even that catfish.  “Just me and the animals, no, just me and nature.  Something to be thankful for.  All thanks be to You, Allah.”


        Still hovering, she drew her knees up and put her head down, praying on a sajjada of air.  In the back of her mind she knew that this was not exactly a Muslim woman’s standard of modesty, especially conscious of a gentle breeze blowing behind against her exposed rear sphincter and her slightly-open pussy lips -- but that was only in the back of her mind and even that thought soon went away.  With her mind and body unified Dareen had the nicest, most reassuring, most relaxing and refreshing pray she probably ever had.

        Still kneeling on her sajjada of air, she brought her head up and then looked down.  In this position she was drifting downward slowly, closer to the lake.  It was probably thirty feet deep where it was directly below her.  It might make a noise, but . . .


        She didn’t have much experience with diving; because of her breasts she had generally avoided anything where she had to strip down to a swimsuit.  But she tried it, head first, pointed hands in front, she controlled her descent and . . .


        Aaaaahhh.  Her nude body knifed into the water and the coolness slid past her and then was all around her, into every crevice and pore.  What a relief from the hot night.  She thought of Elly, who no doubt having thrown her clothes off but was still sweating back in her room.  She wished Elly could feel this.  She wished everyone could feel this.  “What a nicer world it would be.  How could anyone be angry, anyone be hateful, anyone be time-pressed or worried or frustrated, if they could feel what I’m feeling, doing what I’m doing!”


        She slithered in sinuous snakelike motions, swirling the water into every little corner of her body, and saw the fish gliding by, fish that somehow didn’t swim away when they saw this large creature coming at them, in fact she felt like she was saying “hi” to them as she passed.  She descended to the bottom and felt the squishy moss of the rocks under her soles.  Then, flexing her muscles only a little to counteract her natural bouyancy, she walked along the bottom, as her hair billowed up and gracefully danced in a large plume over her head.  Though it had to be pitch dark she could make out the rocks and the weedy plants and felt like she could recognize and name each individual fish.  And there went that eel darting by . . .

        She suddenly realized that she had been under for maybe five minutes and still had no desire to go up to the surface for air.  Could any person comfortably hold her breath this long?  Yet another super power!  She laughed, baring her teeth, the giddy sounds reverberating through her head as they lugubriously gurgled outward to the water.  No doubt the fish heard it.  Still not feeling the need to breathe, she squatted down and fanned her fingers over some sea grass, feeling it play around her fingers, and looked down to where her pubic hair puffed out and rippled with the currents she had made.  She spread her pussy lips and felt her clit down there, hard and big.  A few diddles sent a thrill of pleasure through her body.  Another underwater giggle.

        She considered her watch, still enclosed in her other hand.  Was it waterproof?  She didn’t know.  She jumped up, intending to hit the surface, but again underestimated her own strength; she shot up out of the water and into the air until she stopped herself about fifty feet up.  Yes, the watch still worked.  I’ve been away an hour.  Time to get back and get to sleep.  I can do this again some other night.  Water was still coursing down her body down to her dripping big toes, from where it loudly plopped into the lake below.  There was no one around but she was worried about the dripping sound reverberating into the nighttime Georgia forest.  She extended her arms up and flew straight up, higher, higher, then banked to the left and cruised at a nice comfortable altitude as the air dried her off, the last spritzes of water flying off her nipples and toes.

        She approached the city.  Looking again at the watch in her hand, it was now 2:30 a.m., and seeing no sign of light as she turned into a sitting position to look at the eastern horizon, air pushing against her bare back, she decided to swing by downtown.  The skyscrapers were all dark, only a sprinkling of lit windows here and there, probably no one was there at all and the lights were left on by mistake or out of habit.  Wow, a view like from a helicopter, the streets below looked so tiny.  The air was a little warmer here, she was intensely conscious of that.  She felt it in her pores, in her sensitive nipples, her nostrils flared, she was enveloped in a heavier, warmer air now that was smoky and redolent of electricity and gasoline and exhaust.

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