0 comments/ 19986 views/ 8 favorites Nightmares By: Suesse She got out of the shower naked, her favorite purple towel wrapped around her hair on top of her head, and like that she walked across the hardwood floors towards her bedroom. Quickly, she peeked around the corner to see if Michael was still sleeping. Then, she opened a drawer next to her bed and started to put on panties and a brown bra. While she put the bra in place, she watched Michael sleep. All she could remember was him walking into the house right before she went to sleep. They had talked for about 15 minutes, and then he had woken her up by climbing into her bed around 3am.She remembered him shaking all over and she knew he had had another nightmare. He had not worn any clothes but she was too sleepy to mind. And so she had wrapped her arms around him and had pulled him closer to her to give him a hug. That always calmed him down. She had been stroking his hair while his breathing resumed a normal pace and he finally fell asleep in her arms. She shook her head as she got a pair of jeans out of her closet and put it on. They had known each other since they were in kindergarten together, and they were sharing this house as friends for the last four years, and the one complaint she had were these nightmares. He was hardly ever home but when he was she sometimes woke up hearing him scream in his room, and she was sick of it. Getting her towel away from her hair, she threw it at him. He woke up with a start. ‘What the hell is this?’ he inquired, too sleepy to sound angry. ‘Get out of my bed,’ she said, pulling up the zipper of her pants. ‘I am sick and tired of your nightmares. Get another job!’ With that she pulled the covers away from him, regretted it instantly because she got a good view of his semi-hard cock, turned around abruptly, and walked out of the room. Michael followed her into the kitchen, her towel wrapped around his hips, and he opened the fridge to find something to drink. ‘How has it been going the last two weeks?’ he asked, closing the fridge door and sitting down by the kitchen table. ‘Things have been fine,’ she answered, getting the toast out of the toaster and sitting down on a chair across from Michael. ‘Thanks to you sending the money for the furnace right away, everything worked out perfectly while you were gone,’ she added while spreading the butter with a knife. As she did not get a response, she looked up, noticing a fresh scar on his shoulder. ‘What happened?’ she inquired when her eyes finally met his. He shook his head lightly and ignored her question. ‘I am glad everything worked out. As you know I am very responsible when it comes to taking care of this house or anything else, so you don’t have to sound surprised that I sent the money when you asked for it.’ He reached out across the table and took one half of her toast. ‘What happened?’ she asked once more, and instead of taking a bite of the toast, he leaned back and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. ‘Sandy, I am not going to tell you what happened to my shoulder. We have been through this before and it would only upset you. So let’s let it lie!’ He took a bite now but his eyes did not let go of hers. ‘I am fine, as you can see. I came back in one piece, as I always do. I pay the rent, I take care of things around here when I am home, I sent you the money. I know you don’t like my job but it is just what I do.’ He took a deep breath before he continued. ‘We go through this every time and it never satisfies either of us. I am off work this week-end, so let’s talk about going to Charlie’s tonight and hang out with the guys. I don’t want to think about my job when I am home.’ She pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘I would like to not think about your job, Michael, I really do,’ she said, trying not to sound upset. ‘But somehow you remind me of it every night when you are home.’ She could feel herself loosing it. ‘Why don’t you stop waking me up in the middle of the night, and I’ll consider it a deal on my side.’ With that, she walked past him, shaking her head over getting mad at him once again. ‘Did you tell him?’ Sam put his Queue down and looked at Sandy in disbelief when she shook her head. ‘You spent the whole day with him in the house and he did not pick up on anything?’ Sam could not believe it. Together, they watched Michael as he got ready to finish the game. ‘He lost weight,’ she said, more to herself. Sam agreed. ‘Yes, and so have you.’ With that he clapped his hands and congratulated Michael. ‘Okay, Mike, let’s do another one.’ Hanging out at Charlie’s was great. Sam, Sandy, Bill, Dave, Stuart, and Michael had been friends forever. After finishing college it had been increasingly hard to get together. All but Sandy and Michael had families by now, and things just were not the same if they all got together with wives and kids. But they still squeezed in a night here and then, and it was great. After three games of pool Sandy sat down to watch the others play. It was great to see Michael happy. He was laughing. This was rare. She shook her head when she thought how much his job got to him. Why wouldn’t he admit it to himself? And why did she care so much? He was right: he was responsible and had it together except for the nightmares. And she felt guilty for feeling more than she should for him. She had to admit that the women who were looking at him right here in the bar made her jealous. And every once in a while she caught herself looking at him that way, too. Sometimes, he caught her watching him and she prayed that he would not notice. They had been friends too long to make any changes. Once they had slept together. It had been the first time for both of them, and it had never happened again. She was lost in thought and did not notice Michael coming towards her until he stood behind her and put his arms around her. He bent down until his lips almost touched her ear. ‘You broke up with Daniel, didn’t you?’ he whispered, and her first response was to walk away and ignore his question. However, he had his arms wrapped around her and would not let her go. So she sighed and nodded. ‘Yes, I did.’ ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he asked, turning her around and then putting his hands into his jeans pockets. ‘You don’t talk about your work, and I don’t talk about Daniel. The last thing I need is you telling me how you knew all along that he is a jerk.’ Stuart gave them a ride home a little after midnight. They both had been drinking a little and Sandy could feel the alcohol having an effect on her. As Michael unlocked the door, Sandy stood behind him looking at his butt. ‘Have you had sex lately?’ Michael turned around. ‘What kind of question is that?’ Sandy walked past Michael into the kitchen, throwing her coat over a chair, and turning the light on in the bathroom. ‘It’s just a regular question, nothing we haven’t talked about before.’ She smiled an innocent smile when she could see Michael’s face in the mirror. He was so attractive, she could not stand it. ‘There were about 10 women at the bar staring at you and you did not even return any of their horny smiles.’ ‘I never do that, Sandy. You should know that.’ Michael walked past her and unbuttoned his shirt. ‘Yes, I know,’ she replied, starting to put toothpaste on her toothbrush. ‘It kind of makes me wonder if you felt that women weren’t for you after you had sex with me 15 years ago. Honestly, Michael: Are you gay?’ she was trying to look at him without laughing out loud. What had gotten into her? Michael looked at her for a moment. He was speechless. There she was brushing her teeth right in front of him with a little toothpaste trickling out of the corners of her mouth, and she did not even know how beautiful she looked. Was she serious? She couldn’t be, he decided. She was just playing with him, so he decided to go along with it. ‘Are you kidding,’ he answered finally while throwing his shirt onto the floor and starting to unbutton his jeans. ‘There is no way I would have been gay after going down on you.’ He had tried to sound casual but the conversation made his cock react. So he turned around and turned on the water in the shower. Sandy stared at his back as she tried to find words for a reply. She could not think of any. Instead, she watched him taking off his underwear and stepping into the shower. She watched him standing behind the clear shower curtain, raising his arms to wet his hair. Finally, she spit out the toothpaste and wiped her face. ‘Well, I hope you find enough free time to eat pussy, then,’ she said, staring at her face in the mirror. ‘Oh, I do, but you know, I haven’t had any pussy that tasted as good as yours’, he replied and he wondered if he should not have said this. It was the truth, though. He could still taste her in his mind after all these years. She had been his first girl, his first love, his first everything. But maybe he had gone too far. He did not know what had brought this kind of conversation on but he was even less sure of the consequences. After all, they had lived together for four years now, and nothing had ever happened between them. Sandy walked out of the bathroom and into her bedroom without being able to have a clear thought. What had happened? After 15 years he told her that he still thought about her pussy, that he could still taste her cream? She took off her sweater and threw it into a corner angrily. For 4 years they had shared this house together, and now he had the nerve to tell her this? Or was he just kidding? After all, she had started it. Dressed in just panties and a bra, she walked back into the bathroom. ‘You are a freaking liar, Michael. You did not spend more than one minute eating me out.’ Michael could not see her since there was too much steam in the room but he could hear nevertheless how her voice was trembling. ‘I did not eat you out any longer because you pushed me away.’ He stood there waiting for her reaction, but he did not get one. ‘I thought I must have done something wrong and you did not like it,’ he said finally, not sure at all if she was still in the room. ‘I liked it,’ she replied very quietly. ‘But I thought you might not like it. And I was scared of these intense feelings.’ Michael closed his eyes, pondering in his mind if he should make the next step or not. ‘Is that why you go out with jerks who just want to fuck you without taking the time to make you feel good – because you are scared of feeling too much?’ Sandy could not believe what she was hearing. Who did he think he was. ‘Fuck you, Michael!’ she said, now furious. ‘You don’t know anything about my sex life.’ Michael turned the water off and pushed away the shower curtain, trying not to smile as he saw the light sparkling in her beautiful eyes. When she was so mad, she was radiant. ‘Oh, that’s right,’ he said, reaching for a towel. ‘I only heard Daniel and other guys before him fucking their brains out upstairs when I come home and it sounded like they are up there by themselves, because sure as hell I never heard a moan coming from you.’ He got out of the shower and rubbed his hair dry with his towel right in front of her, but she was too angry to mind him being naked. ‘So what? Just because I don’t make a lot of noise does not mean that I don’t have a good time in bed.’ He made a step forward to place the towel on top of his pile of dirty clothes. ‘Oh yes it does,’ he said while staring into her eyes. ‘It makes all the difference in the world.’ He raised his arm and touched her right cheek with his fingers, following the outline of her chin. ‘If I made love to you, you would not be able to keep quiet,’ he said, now letting his fingers slide through her long blonde hair before pulling on it gently so that she had to tilt her head back and look straight up into his eyes. ‘And if I made love to you,’ he added, moving closer, ‘I would not let you push me away again.’ With lips as gentle and soft as butterflies he touched her face here and there, driving her insane with desire. ‘I would spread your legs with my hands and hold them wide open,’ he whispered, kissing her lightly on the lips, ‘and I would eat your sweet pussy until I make you come,’ he said, kissing her again with his tongue trailing over her closed lips. ‘And you would scream my name, over and over again, pushing my face right into your dripping pussy.’ The moan came from deep inside her when his lips touched hers and his tongue parted her lips with a passion that made her legs shake. Their tongues played together in a rhythm unknown to her, but she couldn’t get enough of the feeling it created deep inside her. She wrapped her arms around his waist but she wanted to be closer still, mesmerized by his kiss, and she threw her arms around his neck and jumped up to wrap her legs around his hips. His hands let go of her head and face to support her thighs as they locked around his hips, and when her panties came in touch with his hard cock, he lifted his head and moaned. Leaning her against the bathroom wall, he kissed down her neck and back up towards her ear. ‘Oh, God, baby, I want you so badly.’ He started to move against her and he could feel his cock swell even more. ‘You are so beautiful, so beautiful,’ he whispered, kissing her earlobe and touching her thighs with his fingers at the same time. Sandy was swept away by her emotions. His muscular body excited her, and he held her so easily. This was a feeling she had always had when he was around: He made her feel safe. But then there was his tongue trailing down her neck, and his teeth pulling the straps of her bra down over her shoulder, and she waved her fingers into his hair to pull his face even closer to her skin. She could feel his cock pressing against her so hard, and she moaned at the thought of him being inside her. 15 years ago everything had been so fast, so innocent and awkward that she only remembered him coming before she could even enjoy the feeling of him being so close. Sandy let go of Michael’s head, let her hands trail down his back and around his hips until her fingers came in contact with her panties. While she wrapped her fingers around his thick cock, she pushed her panties to the side with her other hand and guided his cock towards her wet pussy. ‘Ohhhh,’ he moaned, leaning his forehead against hers. ‘No, baby, don’t do that yet,’ he protested but the head of his cock had already come in contact with the entrance of her slit, and he began to enter her slowly. ‘God, Baby, you are so hot,’ he moaned, trying to not just push all the way in. ‘You drive me insane.’ Sandy moved her hips up, and when she let herself down again she impaled herself on his cock completely. She let out a gasp. ‘Oh, God,’ she moaned, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, ‘you feel so good inside of me.’ His movements made her feel light-headed. His moans increased her excitement. And their kisses increased in intensity. She couldn’t remember ever wanting a man so badly. Michael wrapped his arms around Sandy and walked towards his bedroom with her. He laid her down carefully onto his bed and then tried to get up, but Sandy wrapped her legs around his waist and would not let him go. ‘Let me go, Baby,’ he moaned, unable to resist her. ‘I want to eat you out!’ But she held onto his shoulders, lifted herself up from the bed and kissed him passionately until he pushed her back onto his bed to kiss her more deeply. He could not get enough of her mouth. He desperately wanted to take it slow because he knew he would not last long if he didn’t. Also, she deserved the slow love making he had imagined for years. But she held onto him tightly, her nipples pressed against his chest, her thighs wrapped around his waist, and he couldn’t resist that gorgeous pussy. He started to move in and out of her, slow at first, then faster. He watched her lifting up her arms over her head, tilting her head back and raising her chest. Almost in awe, he touched her right breast with his left hand, playing with her hard nipple before he lowered his head to suck that nipple into his mouth. Her moans drove him crazy with passion and love for her. ‘You are so beautiful, baby,’ he said, letting go of her nipple and moving over to the other one. ‘So tight, so hot, so…’, he let go of her nipple only to blow some cool air onto it and to then watch her shiver, ‘…irresistible.’ ‘Michael!’ she made, grabbing his shoulders, and he could see how her body tensed. He continued licking, sucking and biting her nipples while he kept up the rhythm of his cock gliding in and out of her. ‘Fuck me harder,’ she gasped, and he was amazed by that order. He had never heard her talk like this before. But he obliged. While he increased the tempo, he watched the emotions displayed on her face, and he could tell when she went over the edge. ‘Oh, Michael,’ she gasped, holding onto his shoulders even harder, her body shaking, and her mouth open but without a sound coming from her lips. He touched her face with his hand, letting his finger glide over her now closed lips, and she opened her mouth and licked around his finger with her tongue. He moaned. Sucking the tip of his finger into her mouth before releasing it, she looked at him. ‘Bring your cock over here.’ She pointed to her mouth. ‘I want to suck it.’ For a second, Michael just stared at her. Then, he decided not to kill the moment and just to give her what she wanted. Slowly, his cock slipped out of her dripping pussy, and he wondered if she would mind tasting her own cream. But as he moved over to her side on his knees, she closed her fingers around his hard cock, leaned over onto her side and licked around the head with her tongue. ‘Hmmm,’ she made, obviously enjoying the taste. ‘I love to taste myself on you.’ Michael forgot to breathe. Keeping her hair from falling into her face, he watched his cock disappear between these luscious lips of hers again and again while she pulled lightly on his balls. He closed his eyes, trying not to lose it. He did not want to come yet but what she did felt so good. Their eyes met as he let go of her hair and cupped her left breast with his hand. He couldn’t get enough of watching her naked body stretched out before him, and her tongue against the tip of his cock drove him insane. He felt his balls tightening while his cock was as hard as steel. Suddenly, he took her head in both hands and pulled her off his aching cock. ‘Baby, I don’t want to come without tasting you,’ he said, his voice trembling. ‘Lay down and your back and spread your legs, baby.’ And so she did. For a moment, he watched her in amazement. He couldn’t believe he had waited 15 years to see her gorgeous naked body once more in front of him, spread eagle, her beautiful wet pussy totally exposed to his view. He moved between her legs and parted her pussy lips with his hands and lowered his head. He could smell her musky scent and thought he would come on the spot as his fingertips came in contact with her very wet inner lips and his tongue began to gently circle her slit. He loved her taste, the way her pussy lips were all shiny and swollen, and how her slit looked freshly fucked. After a few more tentative circles around her slit, he entered her creamy entrance with his tongue, making love to her while his nose rubbed against her clit. He could feel and hear the effect this had on Sandy. She moaned loudly and pushed his face right into her steaming pussy to feel his tongue even more. But he replaced his tongue with two fingers up her slit as he lapped his way up to her engorged clit. He found her G spot within a few seconds, fucking her hard with his fingers, but sliding out of her when he sensed her orgasm fast approaching and focusing his attention on her clit instead. His movements drove her insane. She found herself moaning uncontrollably, having given up any rational thought in her head. All she wanted was for him to make her come, and she would have tried to tell him to just finger fuck her a little longer if his attacks on her clit had not felt so good. Michael alternated his assault on her cunt and his lapping at her swollen clit. Sensing her need, he finally sucked the little pearl into his mouth and held it there while he nibbled on it gently with his teeth. He could feel her reaction in her thighs which she had clamped around his shoulders. He continued sucking on her clit and started to drive his fingers in and out of her as he felt her orgasm approaching. And then it was there: she let out a scream that probably woke up the whole neighborhood, and then started to moan uncontrollably as she went into convulsions. His head caught between her strong thighs, all he could do was lap at her running cream and making slow and lazy circles around her throbbing clit. When she had calmed down and he could raise his head, he looked up and smiled at her. He couldn’t believe the mess she had made out of his sheets and pillows. For a few seconds he took delight in her disheveled look, her stiff nipples, and her green eyes staring at him; then he turned her onto her side and moved behind her thighs. His thick cock in hand he lifted her one leg, ran the tip of his cock up and down her slit, and then drove into her hot creamy cunt with one long stroke. She reacted by prodding herself up on a pillow and watching his cock fuck her tortured pussy. ‘Oh baby, that looks so good,’ she moaned, and he pulled his cock out until only the head remained inside of her. ‘Tell me you like being fucked by my big hard cock,’ he said, amazed on how much hornier he felt by their dirty talk, if that was even possible. ‘Oh baby, I love feeling your thick cock inside of me. Fuck me harder. Please.’ And he drove into her with all his might, only to pull his cock out again. ‘And tell me how much you liked my tongue on your pussy,’ he demanded, reaching out to pull hard on her left nipple. Then, he pulled her pussy lips apart to give her a better view of his big shaft at the entrance of her tight hot cunt. He loved the sight of this sexy woman in front of him who was so open about her passion and needs. ‘You know just the right spots to drive me over the edge,’ she gasped as he drove into her again. ‘Oh, Michael, give it to me. Fuck me, fuck me hard. Make me come.’ Nightmares A little past midnight, he fell into a deep sleep. His breath deepened, his muscles loosened. The strain of the day fell from him. He was a tall, pale young man. Hardly over the age of 18, he seemed weak, sickly, his dark eyes and hair, accented his frailty. Sleep should have brought him peace, strength, but sadly it brought him torment. He was hunted in his sleep, by dark unknown forces, forces that had hunted him since reaching his manhood. Every night they stalked him... It began, as it did every night. Past midnight, as a deep calming sleep came upon him, the shadows crept towards his bed. Strange vines of darkness came and tugged at his sheets and comforter. The young man didn't stir. The shadows came closer, creeping, unseen, up his onto his bed, where they coiled and uncoiled like snakes. Several of them reached down, toward the end of his bed, where his height caused his feet to breach the safety of his blankets. The shadows coiled around his ankles, sending cold shivers up his legs, straight to his heart, but still he did not waken. On either side of him, the shadows slithered into his blankets, and began coiling around his legs, massaging them through the fabric of his sweatpants. At the end of his bed, an almost human figure, showed its head. Pale with death, it made a jerked from the floor, to the bed, soundlessly. In the next instant, it had joined the coils under the blanket, but no bulge in the bedding revealed its presence. The young man moaned in his sleep, slightly. The coils were slowly working their power on him, their cool touch, gave him goosebumbs, sent chills down his spine. They slowly worked the sweatpants down, down, till they were expelled from the bed, into the darkness. The young man lay sleeping, in his shirt and boxers, moaning, unaware of the danger below his navel... The death creature's touch was cold as ice, as it caressed the young man's semi-hard cock. Scraping its broken nails against the fabric of the boxers. It opened the slit-hole, ever so slightly, and let a silent whistle of winter in. The young man groaned loudly, but did not waken, his cock was hard, despite the cold, and his balls were tight against him. The coils, seeing an opening, entered the boxers, working around the boy's private spots. They crept under the boxes, making them bulge and move. They weaved through his pubic hair, massaged his firm butt, feathered his manhood. Slowly, the young man began to surrender, without even his simple awareness. The creature slipped his boxers to his knees, then lifted the legs towards the boy's shoulders. The coils trapped them there, and began feathering the boy's tiny nipples and firm stomach through his shirt. The creature itself, bent itself on another task. A young, virginal, rose-bud had shown itself, presented itself. The creature knew its task, and lowered its decayed head. Its broken teeth scraped the boy's sack, the tongue flickered softly under it. The cold caused the sack to completely tighten, so the creature's tongue had no trouble attacking the base of the manhood. It licked softly, then deeply, and followed the crevice to the rose-bud. There it licked, then pushed itself in, just a little. Then licked once more. The young man began arousing at this new feeling, for the creature's tongue became warm, as it began to thrust into the rose-bud. The more pleasure it caused, the more the young man awakened, till at last he opened his eyes. His arms flew to his comforter, he ripped it off, and caught sight of a decayed body, years old, laying dormant over his groin. His groin, lay hard, atop his the creature's face. The young man immediately knocked the death away from his most sacred body-part. He thrust his manhood back into his boxers, and slipped his sweats back on. He started into the hallway, and broke into a run. And he kept running. Down the dark, door-filled corridor, he ran into the depth of the shadows, and the coils followed him at a distance. But he did not know, still he did not know his danger. After an hour of tiresome running, he reached a great room, covered in gray gloom. Around the room, were placed many black doors, leading to greater nightmares. He heard a strange clicking from above, and went to move to a door. But he went to slowly, silky ropes fell on the back of his calves, and anchored them to the floor, bringing him to his knees. The source of the ropes and sounds made itself known. Unlike the death creature, it did not love slow seduction and unknown ravishment. It let loose more ropes, capturing the young man's arms, binding them upward. He sat upon his knees, arms hailing the creature, tears streaming down his face. From the down the ropes came little spiders, with head like women. But women who knew only hate, their tiny mouths with filled with envenomed spiked teeth, and evil glee in their eyes. They moved with great speed, and nipped into the young man's most sensitive spots. Along the neck, then beneath his shit, along his nipples, and into his navel. The young man struggled to break free, before the spiders reached his manhood, for their poison was that of wanton acts, sexual pleasures. His nipples were flaming hard, his head disillusioned with lust. But he retained enough of who he was, to not want a hard-on, not here, not with the darkness. But all he succeeded in doing, was tearing the fabric of his sweats by his knees. Allowing the creatures access to his legs. The moved alone his leg hair, sending cold shivers down his spine. Some bit alone the inner thigh, but others crept under the fabric of his boxers. Slowly the moved under, toward their final prey. He screamed himself course, as they nibbled on his cock head, his smooth shaft, and his soft nuts. His erection came instantly, and the spiders left him. Their work was done. For then came their mistress, a being much like themselves, but far greater and darker. She came slowly into the light, eying her prey. The boy only whimpered as she grinned hungrily at his cock. She plunged, the young man, with all his strength, tried to jump, and succeeded in tearing the fabric of his pants, below the knee. But his jump only brought his groin to an equal level with the fanged maw of the she-spider. In all likeness to a giant spider it was, except with a woman's face, with great and terrible pulps and fangs. Behind the fangs lay rows of glittering teeth, and a long tongue. As she lunged, she sent her pulps and fangs to work, and the tore through the fabrics, ripping them to shreds. The boy screamed in fear his manhood would be ripped apart with his clothes, but the she-spider caught it with her pulps and permitted no harm. She slowly worked it in past her fangs, past the rows of teeth, where the tongue coiled around it. The tongue-coil slowly pulled up and down on the hot shaft, feather soft at the base, and tightly at the tip. In its absence, hundreds of teeth softly scraped the young man's precious tool. As she did this, she wrapped her legs around him, prevented him from withdrawing, saving himself from the sex-trap. But he lost himself, the poison of the spider pulsed through him, he slowly plunged into the maw, only slightly remembering his danger. Unaware of another danger. He felt a slight tug on his nut sack, but thought little of it. The touch was clawed, and covered in prickly hairs, it felt good against his balls. A great tingling sensation was left after each touch. He moaned, and pushed towards, it. But after each touch, he felt a greater and greater tingling, and weight. The she-spider and one of her legs and had begun cocooning hit nuts to her body. Another leg, with a great barbed claw at the end, was ready at the base, to yank them off right before orgasm. This way the she-spider would get all her wanted man-seed. Upon seeing this, the young man, began to struggle, and lose erection. The she-spider spat him out, and began to call out for more envenomed spiders. As soon as she released the failing manhood, the young man pulled on his restraints, and kicked the spider away from him. He stood upon wobbly knees, so he put his full weight upon his bonds from the void-roof. They snapped. They she-spider reared and hissed, her little servants began to swarm, but he ran through the closest door, into a dark gloom. Through the gloom, he realized he was in an open field. Ahead of him lay a tree, but before he can take a better look of his surroundings, he felt the sting of the spider venom again. It still pulsed within him, his erection was re-gaining strength. He needed an outlet. He half-stumbled to the tree, and rested upon it. He could almost feel hands groping him, then he did. Opening his eyes, he saw what appeared to be a man and woman, but they were dark. Dark and mighty, untouchable, beautiful as a rose upon death's door. He needed them. He went for the woman, began groping her, completely forgetting himself. The rags of fabric hanging from his waistband did not prohibit him, nor did the woman, for she was naked. He entered her tight orifice, and began thrusting with his very heart beat. She was tight, and burning hot, and dry like a desert, he felt himself chapping. But he couldn't stop, wouldn't. She smiled her devil's smile, and he sold his soul again, as he always did. The man approached him from behind, and ripped away the back of his briefs, and tore his short open. Completely ruining his clothes. The dark man rubbed strong, rough hands up and down the young man's arched back, and down to his firm ass cheeks. There the hands parted the final barrier to boy's most desired orifice. The young man screamed as a long cock rammed into him, nailing his prostrate head on. He could hardly breathe through the lust, as his kept up his pace, with the other mans. The woman played with his nuts, while the man tweaked his nipples. The young man gave in. The shadows came, from about the base of the tree, they could sense the young man's climax approaching. They coiled around him, covering every inch of skin, muffling his grunts and groans, and pulled him toward a great opening in the tree. A great void, empowered by sexual impurity, the young man finally climaxed within the woman, and the man filled his bowels. The great void filled with a blinding light, and the boy felt himself fall into it, forever... Or almost forever... a buzzing noise awake the young man, as he lay on his bedroom floor, blood and cum still oozing from his cock, his clothes torn to shreds, and his body beaten and broken. Every day, every night, sleep eluded him, and the shadows of nightmare came to him. He will never find peace, he died 10 years ago, on his 18th birthday night. Nightmares This is going to be a fairly short story (at least I hope so, otherwise I doubt I could finish it) Many thanks to Yellow Peril for his efforts in keeping me straight, and the story readable. In these days of troubles when we have servicemen and women returning from Iraq and Afghanistan, we still fail them by forgetting that while they may look unwounded, they can be just as sorely wounded as those missing arms or legs, but we just don't see it. This doesn't relate just to this generation, nor does it relate strictly to the military. Relating to a different generation, the story is my attempt to show how they suffer also. There are many levels of 'loving wives'; the wife in this story may well fit the truest definition. If you are looking for unbridled sex or like your stories to be politically correct, then this story isn't for you. It is just a personal tribute to those men and women who volunteer to serve in the Military, no matter what branch as well as Police , Firefighters and all other emergency responders who put their lives and minds on the line on a daily basis so that we can enjoy the freedoms that we have. Nightmares. The soldier wakes and blinks. Lying in his small trench against the rock, under his groundsheet covered in sand, the only light is the sunlight creeping under the edges. In front of his face he sees a scorpion poised to strike. At the same time he hears the creak of animal harnesses and the sounds of their hooves scraping on rock. A Yemeni patrol is passing by. Sweat is running down his face as he peers from under his hide. Further up along the ledge, the charges he placed are set to bring down tons of rock to block the pass. Looking out past the scorpion, he sees a man in Yemeni Army uniform. So much for it just being bandits he thinks to himself. What do I do if he sees me; I can get him but what about the rest? Being issued with the Sterling SMG was great at the time, much lighter than the Enfield rifle, but a definite problem with long range. If that damn scorpion stings then there will be no way that he can stay still. Then he will be in plain sight for all to see. He thinks Maybe if I pushed the button now and finished the whole patrol off, the big shots in Sana'a would get the message. No, you can't fire till they fire at you; remember the ROEs. The scorpion turns and scuttles away. The Yemeni soldier turns away continuing up the path and the soldier reaches for the detonator mechanism to explode the charges. Then he wakes in his darkened bedroom, soaked in sweat, his heart hammering away and his legs jerking with the tremors of Restless Leg Syndrome. Alongside him his wife of over 50 years snores gently. As for him, he knows that for a couple of hours there will be no more sleep. If he tries, the dreams will only keep going around and around in his mind. He doesn't know which is worst, this or the memories of a child: the snarling of aircraft engines as the German bombers pass over, the screams of falling bombs and the deafening bursts as they hit the ground, the devastation of an area in city blocks where the biggest industry in the area was a laundry. No wonder he could not enjoy a fireworks show when some of his earliest memories were of watching the city across the river burn, watching the fingers of the searchlights as they probed the sky for aircraft, hearing the roar and the bursting of anti aircraft fire when one was spotted, and seeing the destruction of streets that he knew, of homes of members of his family. He remembered having to help move family furniture from a bombed out house to another house that hopefully wouldn't be bombed. The memories of a soldier: The drone of the truck engine crossing the desert, watching the horizon looking for movement, and the decision making, is it hostile or not? Looking for disturbed spots in the sand of the road, and when seeing one, getting down and prodding through the sand to find out if there is a mine there, then finding one, placing a little plastic explosive on top of it, then detonating it from far away. Patrolling and destroying pathways in the hills. Firing back when bullets came at you even if you couldn't see where they were coming from. The memories of a cop: Screaming arguments, families in disorder using crying children as footballs, bodies from murders, suicides, car wrecks, sifting through burned buildings looking for bodies, all too often those bodies being those of children. All those things that people believe that you can forget or get used to and go on to the next problem. Trouble is, you don't forget or get used to any of it. If you make the mistake of caring, the job can and does destroy you and your family. And the plain truth is, how can you not care? Eventually those memories become too much. Preceded by his dog, he gets up and shuffles through to the living room. On the way he takes another tranquilizer. Something heavier than Ativan would likely do the trick better, but he hates what the heavier drugs do to his mind. Sitting back in his recliner, his dog curled up beside the chair, he picks up a book and turns on the TV to see if there is anything of interest this early in the day. At 4 or 5 am there isn't much on TV other than infomercials. It doesn't really matter what it is, as long as it keeps his mind, eyes and ears busy and makes a noise in the background. He clicks away at the remote trying to find something of some interest. From the bed Cassie watched George get up, get his robe on and shuffle off down the hallway. She thinks, Well, I had better get up and put the kettle on for some tea. That seems to help him relax. Her mind goes back to the young soldier she married while he was on home leave from the Mediterranean. How, at 19 on their wedding day, he looked so young and slim. The month that they had been able to spend together, and at the end of that month standing on the platform at yet another railway station when they had to say goodbye as he very reluctantly headed back to his base. Then eight months later when he was able to get home again, the holidays, travelling around visiting both their families and the two weeks they spent on an island, where they finally decided to get a start on their family. After all, he would be home in three to four months. Then the letter with the news."Carrie, I hate to tell you this but I have been transferred to a rapid deployment force for Middle East operations, based in Kenya." The realization dawning that it would be up to her to go through most if not all of her pregnancy alone, as well as set up their home. Her mind goes to a night eight months later, the night before Christmas Eve when she hears someone rap at the downstairs front door and a familiar voice speak to her landlady. She remembers going to the head of the stairs, and there he was, his face thinned and burnt almost black by the desert sun. She had thought that he was still in Kenya, might even be there until February until he could get a ship home. He is here, home, it doesn't matter how, he just is. Home in time to greet their first child when he or she arrives. After he walked up the stairs and along the landing into the living room he took her into his arms, making room for her swollen abdomen and said he was home for good, he would never have to go away again. The partings were all finished. He didn't even have to go back to be demobilized, all he had to do was serve 5 years as a reservist. She remembered the celebration. The year before, he had been in the Mediterranean at Christmas while she had spent it at her family home. This year he was home, Christmas Eve was the next day, then Christmas Day and their exchange of gifts. The last one that would be just between the two of them before their family became bigger. Christmas Dinner with his parents and the rest of his family. Also, though, she remembered those times that his eyes seemed to be looking so far away, the silences, the brooding. It was that something she had seen in the eyes of the older veterans in the hospital she had worked at. The tightness in his voice, as if he were scared that she would go away again and that he would be without her; that his being home was only a dream, and that he would wake up back in the tents of his base camp in Kenya. Her soldier had been changed into someone different, very different from that funny, joyful character of so short a time ago, when their first child had been conceived. She got up, walked through to the kitchen and pushed the button on the kettle to turn it on. When it boiled, she made tea, taking him a cup, putting it on the table beside his recliner. She saw him changing the channels on the TV remote, just going from one meaningless program to another. She sat beside him, taking his hand in hers. "Another bad one?" she asked. He nodded, looking over at her, increasing the pressure of his fingers on hers. "They just don't stop!" he whispered. "When I get back to sleep, the dream is still there. It doesn't matter whether it is about the war, Aden or about police work; it just comes back again and again, until I have worked it out of my mind. It wasn't as bad while I was taking those other heart meds that kept me more doped. When I cut back on those, I felt that a curtain had been pulled back from the window and I could see clearly; trouble is that I see other things too. I can't go back to those days where I walked along like a zombie, or the driven person I was on the RLS drugs." "Some of these so called cures are worse than the problem. I used to wonder how fellow cops could suddenly hide away somewhere and swallow their gun. Now I have no difficulty understanding why, nor why the police suicide rate has doubled over the last year or so. I was reading today that 20 percent of the suicides in the US are veterans. They are doing tour after tour in places like Iraq or Afghanistan until mentally they just can't take it any longer. It's the same for our Canadian men and women who are also committing suicide at higher rates, even while they are there. They don't even wait until they get home. The biggest problem is that there is very little support for those suffering with problems caused by their occupations." Cassie looked at him quietly, considering what he had just told her. "Next time you see the doctor, why not ask him about this? Maybe there is some way that you can get help or other meds that don't have as many side effects. Surely there is something that can be done to help. Maybe even some form of counseling. I only know little pieces of what you have experienced, which come out only once in a while, like if you have a drink too many or you are thinking about things like Remembrance Day. I know that there are many things you can't talk about, and that the things you could and maybe should have talked about you kept back for our sakes, mine and the kids." "Yes, I did that deliberately. Home was that little island where I was free to relax, where I was free to be myself, where I didn't have to think about someone trying to hurt or kill me at some family dispute, or having to go and tell someone that a family member wouldn't be coming home because they had been killed in an accident. I didn't have to worry about being away from my family for a long period of time on detachment somewhere. That was the only way I could stay safe and sane. It was either that or start burying the pressure in alcohol as so many others did. That is why I never applied for any special units, as the pressure on me would have been even greater." "I want to get help, but the problem is getting people to believe that there is a problem. In a way I have managed to handle this since I got out of the Army, even including everything that the life of a police officer threw at me as well. I have been good at putting on a face. People say that you get used to seeing people dead and dying, that it doesn't affect you as much after a while. That is total garbage! I remember all the accidents, all the suicides and all the other deaths. Maybe the faces aren't clear on some of them, but I don't forget them. Trouble is, there are still many people out there who see these problems as a form of weakness, that if you were tougher you wouldn't have any problems. That way the politicians and the bureaucrats who wouldn't know one end of a rifle from the other can ignore them and fail to fund proper treatment." Cassie looked at him, concern written across her face. "Please promise me you will give it a try; you'll never know unless you do. You can't go for the rest of your life taking a beating like this! If you want, I'll come with you to the Doctor. You have to see him about the results of that MRI on your back anyway." - - - - - - - - After talking to the doctor about the results of his MRI, George suddenly asked, "Tom, how do I go about getting counseling for problems I have that originated from my work?" "Just phone the Health Unit and ask to speak with the duty intake worker. They are the people best equipped to deal with problems. All I can do is just prescribe medications, and we both know that with you, that doesn't work. It's easy to say 'take a Prozac', but we both know that with your low tolerance for drugs and the heart meds you are taking already, we are taking chances." Cassie remembered the internal struggle that George had with himself to make that call. The pride that had almost prevented him from making the call. The reluctance to pick up the phone, dial the number and say, "I have a problem that I need help with." The difficulty completing the drive to the meeting with the intake worker who took a brief history, and who told him, "We work with the Canadian Mental Health Association. One of our counselors could be assigned, or you could be assigned to a counselor at the CMHA. Do you have any problems with that?" He replied, "No, I'm getting desperate for some help. Drugs don't do it for me. They do more damage than good." Then came the call from the CMHA and the exploratory meetings with the intake counselor, who eventually agreed, "Yes, you do have a problem with PTSD. I'm going to arrange for you to meet with Jack Hale." The first meeting with Jack served to set some guidelines concerning what was confidential and could not be talked about without breaking the law. It established what could be talked about, and what couldn't or wouldn't be. Some secrets were so deeply buried that they would never see the surface while he was alive. He didn't see how Hale could help. He was so young, just in his thirties; how could he appreciate what went on half a century ago? Even a quarter century. How could a young man relate to those experiences? Nonetheless, he worked his way through the workbook he was given. He began learning methods of coping when he begins to feel the stresses of the past. He learned what to do when those memories become overwhelming. He learned that it is okay to break down and cry when those feelings and fears threaten. He started writing a journal, which helped identify problem areas. Taking the time to be comfortable with himself was a starting point. Above all, he realized he should not be afraid to take his wife's hand and talk to her to let her know that he was hurting. When there was a problem, he learned to wake her like she asked, instead of sitting alone facing the thoughts that never end, that are never resolved. At the end, he understood that those thoughts and memories would never totally go away, but that they can be dealt with. He knew that he was lucky and that, unlike many, his mind was strong enough to deal with them. He realized that whenever they threaten to overpower him, all he has to do is stretch out his hand and have his wife of over fifty years hold his, and he could use her strength as well as his to hold them at bay, hopefully for many more years The End Hopefully, in this short story, I've been able to convey some of the anguish felt by many people who have led their lives as emergency responders in all the forms. There is no doubt that there are many who are far worse than the main character of the story, leading lives dictated by their fears, addicted to drugs and alcohol, or totally unfit to function as a productive member of society. We owe all of them a debt of gratitude, as we do their spouses who, in the main, try to keep their partners on an even keel and help them deal with the ghosts of what they have seen and experienced in the service of a free society. Nightmares Become Reality Steffi had just recently graduated from grad school and moved from her parents' home in the city to a home that she purchased and renovated herself. She put a lot of hard work into making this home her own little oasis. She wanted to transform the run-down country home into a quaint little retreat where she could focus on her writing and find tranquility and peace. When she bought the old farm house it had been abandoned for a number of years and had used as a hangout by local city delinquents. She redid the floors, patched holes in the walls and painted them, and replaced the shattered windows in the home. She gutted the kitchen and master bedroom to create her ideal cooking space and personal retreat. The house was three levels with a tower at the top. She redid the first level and turned a spare room into her dream study. This house couldn't have been more perfect, to her it looked like it was plucked from a magazine. Steffi had received her PhD in creative writing and planned to spend her days as a creative writing professor online and working on her novels at night. It was a crisp Saturday morning in February and she was unloading the last of her boxes when she notice a window open on the top floor of her house. It was the window in the tower, and she had only been up their once, so she was confused as to how it would be open. She had a security system installed in the home to be on the safe side. She felt that given what the house used to be used for by the local delinquents it was a good investment. She had her German Shepherd Charli with her so she felt secure when she was around, but she wanted an added measure of protection when they were not home. Charli was a very agile little girl and was very protective of her Mama. She was three years almost four and was a sharp as a tack and faster than a greyhound. Nothing got past her and she had a sense of awareness about her. Steffi picked up the box and patted her leg, "C'mon Charli, let's go close that window and make some lunch." Charli pounced towards the door and flopped down on the chase lounge when she got inside. "Charli! That isn't your chair pretty girl, get down!" Charli just looked at Steffi with those big brown eyes and tilted her head to the side. She knew how to work Steffi and get what she wants. "Oh Charli, don't look at me like that. Come close the window with me." She patted her leg again and Charli sprung from the couch and raced Steffi to the third floor and waited. There was a door that led to the tower and it was closed and locked. Steffi scratched her head, baffled at how that window could have been opened. She fumbled for the key and unlocked the door. She opened the door and let Charli take the lead; she was glad to have her, she felt much safer. Steffi hung back for a few seconds to give Charli time investigate the winding staircase to the top. When she heard her bark happily Steffi went upstairs to close the window. "C'mon girl. Let's go make lunch and do some grading!" Steffi patter her leg and Charli went bounding down the stairs. Steffi and Charli ate lunch and then curled up in the study to grade papers, and by the time Steffi looked up again it was dark out. She looked at her watch and realized it was almost seven. It was pitch black outside, so much darker than the city. It would take some getting used to, but she felt she was settling in nicely and was going to be just fine being on her own for the first time ever. Charli was passed out on one of her many beds scattered throughout the house so Steffi left her there and went to go get dinner together. She ate dinner on the back porch in the swing and gazed out at the stars.The silence was deafening and she decided that it was time for bed, so she gathered her things and went inside calling for Charli. "Charli, time for bed pretty girl. Let's go to sleep..." Charli was in Steffi's room and in her bed even before she was. Steffi snuggled in next to Charli and passed out from the long day and instantly started to dream. "Charli, go to your bed and lay down baby girl." Charli crawled off the bed and slunk over to her bed. Steffi let her hand slip in between her legs and pleasure her bean, letting her delicate finger circle and caress it, bringing it to its plump and aroused state. She could feel her body reacting to the stimulation and begin to secrete that wet and silky nectar that flows from her sweet little pussy. She let her finger slide down her bean and into her drenched pussy. She was so wet and slippery that her finger slipped in with ease and disappeared all the way to her hand. She wriggled it around inside, exploring her insides and stroking her g-spot. She must have found the sweet spot because her pussy was gripping her finger tight, making it harder but more pleasurable to work her fingers around in there. She managed to slip another finger in and fill herself up, bringing herself to climax. Her thumb was rubbing her bean while she came all over her hand and the bed. Steffi opened her eyes and looked round the room. "Charli, why are you on the floor girl? Come snuggle with Mum." Steffi patted the bed for Charli to come to her and then wriggled down into the bed to settle in for a lazy Sunday morning. She rubbed her feet together to warm them up and that is when she noticed it. Her panties were drenched and the sheets beneath her were cold. She slipped her hand down under her panties and ran her fingers across her pussy, it was hot and slimy and she was puzzled as to why. She didn't have sex, and grading papers and watching the night sky is nothing to be horny about. She doesn't remember dreaming about anything, so the aftermath of an arousal was a complete mystery to her. A little unsettled by her mysterious state of arousal Steffi pulled herself out of bed and drew a hot bath with relaxing oils. She looked around her bathroom and was very pleased with herself. She accomplished what she thought to be a luxurious retreat where she can relax and pamper herself. She painted the walls a soft lavender, put stressed hard wood heated floors in, and found a really old claw foot tub and had it refurbished. Her shower was tiled and had a glass wall with no door. She had recessed coves put into the walls in place of shelves and scattered various candles and trinkets throughout the room to create a gentle, smooth, romantic ambiance throughout the bathroom. She turned off the water and slipped into the hot water and breathed in the relaxing scents of lavender and orange blossom. Charli had enough of relaxing so she ran off to go chase rabbits and crows in the back yard and bask in the morning sun. The morning sun shone through the stained glass window and lit up the room with a soft glow. Steffi tried to relax and shake off the odd way she woke up this morning but she was still a little slippery between the legs. "I really need a boyfriend. Then at least I would have a valid excuse to wake up like this in the morning." She chuckled to herself as she sent her thoughts out into the void of emptiness that her house was. Living alone was not her ideal, but she was 27 years old and had her PhD, and still living with her parents. That was not okay in her book, and she felt that she was too old and independent to live with one of her friends. So here she was, adjusting to a new chapter in her life. ***Stay tuned for more on Steffi and her erotic dreams. Things are just getting started.***