8 comments/ 138727 views/ 8 favorites Forgot By: IsabellaSims I didn't mean to look. It just happened as I pass his bedroom on the way to the kitchen. I had forgotten he was home. He had been at the university for a year. It was innocent. Warm moonlight fills his room and the curtain flutters. Not remembering he was home, I had neglected my nightgown. My body still glistens with self-entertainment. My nipples still erect. My breathing had not returned to normal. I steady myself against the silky dark wood of the doorframe. I need more support as I gaze on his nakedness. He moves but is still asleep. His erection jostles and waves though the air. I wondered as I had often how does that feel. I force myself to back out of the room and press against the hallway wall. Not a breath fills me. My hand cups my cunt. A finger falls inside. A gasp flies from my mouth. Did her hear? I peer around the edge of the door. Still in the same position, now his hand cradles his cock. My finger still in me, I watch. I demand I move. I don't. My own son I tell myself. I have seen him before. I struggle. I still stare in wild abandon. His hand slides along the rigid shaft. Up. Down. Up. Then back. My fingers move in sync. I bite down on a finger to keep silent. He launches in high arcs. He covers his chest. He rolls over without waking. I finish. I move towards the kitchen dehydrated. Weak in the legs. Wanting more. The sun rolls though the kitchen. I have not been up long. "Hey lazy head," I tell him as he rubs his hair and adjusts his boxers. His body presses against mine. His hand on my waist. His warm breathe against my neck. "Hey." I don't know he watched me last night. I take his hand and pull it towards my stomach. I squeeze his fingers. His lips rest against bare skin just above the nightgown in the back. The wetness dabs. The tip of the tongue touches. I inhale deeply. He feels my chest swell. "Nice to have you home," I whisper. The edge of his hand grazes the bottom of a breast covered by thin fabric, almost not there. It is risque, daring. After what I watched, I don't care. I don't object. It happens again. I fall back slightly letting it naturally happen again. I sigh. Fingers cover the breast. I sigh again. Lips kiss my back. I sigh. We stand still. Silent. His erection presses my nightgown between my thighs. I wiggle. It presses more. I need this. I encourage. I wiggle. He grinds. I tilt my head back. My warm breath covers his cheek. His hand moves my breast still covered. I remember watching him in the moonlight. I push my hips back. He works the hem up. I'm exposed. His warm cock drags through the crevasse of my ass. The head grazes my pussy. It almost pops inside. I resist. I want him to beg, to want, to need me, as I want him. His youthful groan covers my ear. I reply with my own. I take his fingers. We pull the hem up. He grinds. I press his fingertips against me. I rub them about. I moan loudly in case he doesn't know. "Margaret," he whispers unwilling to call me mom, mommy, mother. "Robert," I purr back unwilling to call him son. I want to. I want to call him anything that will give him to me. His cock saws across my cunt. His fingers roam inside. His chest is still against my back. Not for long. I turn. I face him. My mouth devours his. Our tongues dig. Bat. Swat. His in mine. Then mine in his like warriors trading blows with swords. His passion overtakes him. Mine too. I hear the nightgown rip. I feel nothing on. Just his hands. His body covers me. We waltz to the living room, mouths still attached. We fall crazy on the couch. Pillows flung. Newspapers make space. His cock head knocks. Not yet, I demand. I grab his balls. I play. I hold him between the legs. Against my body, his hand mirrors mine against his. I tear at his hair. His nipples molest mine. Our tongues still play. Still ravage. Still like wild teenagers in the backseat at the drive-in hoping the other will not come to their senses before getting to home base for the first time. My lips nibble along his chest. Along his stomach. He knows where I am going. He groans in approval. First time he says then groans. Good I tell him. I see his cock up close. It looks even better now. I wave it around. Slap it against my cheek. Kiss its head. Stroke it quickly as he did last night. Let the head slip past my lips. Lay on my tongue. It fills my mouth. Then again. My lips drag tightly along the warm soft skin. A few times. He is unable to control himself. He shoots. I swallow. Again. Again. He finishes. I swallow. I lay my pussy near his face. He looks. He watches. He toys with the glistening skin. A fingertip. A finger. Another. They fill me. I moan loudly. I gasp. I wiggle moving his fingers to other places inside. They slide rapidly. They become wetter. I gasp. I stiffen. I rip at my breast. I tug it away from my chest. I gasp. I relax. I leave my thighs around his face. He licks. He sucks my clit. I tingle. A new orgasm. Our faces next to each other. A new erection. I slide it inside. He fills my cunt easily as he does throughout the day. Forgotten Sauce-Box is publishing this story in their summer edition in June. I thought I would share it with you. - Danse. * * * * * I stand in the dark, afraid to move. I can see a faint flickering down the hallway, but it seems to be getting further away from me. I don’t remember how I got here. I think for a moment I might be dreaming, but I know this is as real as it gets. I feel like the place is familiar, but I can’t place it. I put my hands on the flocked wallpaper. I can almost see the faded red and white paisley pattern. The vision of this wallpaper comes to me suddenly. I can’t see it in the dark, but I know what it looks like. What is this place? I smell something in the air. Incense. A musky, jasmine blend, I can’t place it. I have smelled it before. I catch a glimpse in my mind of laughter and this smell in the room. I continue to walk on what I somehow know is deep red carpeting. The kind you find in up scale 1930’s hotels. I can imagine the doors on all sides of me. I have to keep walking. I wish I had a candle. I follow the light in front of me. I can’t see who carries it. I am going deeper into this place. I stop at a door. It opens without me touching it. I stand still not daring to even breath. I go in. The lamp is lit, dimly. I hear music. I have danced to this music before. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is longer than I remembered it ever being, it trailed down my back almost to my ass. My face is the same, but my eyes are wiser, more cautious than I remembered. My body was much the same. The high nicely shaped 34-c’s. All natural, no silicone. My waist was small, and my hips were curvy, but not thick. I see what I have on, and I want to cover myself. I am wearing a diaphanous gown. It grazes my body, revealing all the curves, peaks and valleys. My nipples are rouged and quite evident through the thin nearly invisible material. My pubic hair is trimmed to a very small triangle. I am barefooted my toes are painted scarlet. I walk over to the bed and stand there, trying to remember. Why can’t I remember? I sit on the bed, when I feel a change in the air. My hair is draping down my back and over one shoulder, partially hiding one breast. I feel breath against my neck. I begin to turn, but am halted. No words. I just seem to know not to look. I feel hot lips on the skin of my neck. A tongue rasps against the back of my gown. I feel fingers tearing the bodice of my gown. Long fingernails gently scrape against my skin. I shiver even though the heat in the room is intense. I lie back, and close my eyes, I remember not to look, but how do I know that? I feel a tongue stroking my trimmed pussy. Outer, then suddenly it plunges deeper than I thought any tongue ever could. I am rocked into orgasm instantly. I scream with it as it rushes at me, and comes crashing down. Large hands flip me over and pull me up to my knees. I feel a hot probing at my pussy. I know it is going to feel wonderful…it is going to be huge, and more than I ever thought I could take, but I know I will take it all, and I will take it well. I push my hips back, inviting his entrance into me. I feel a rough hand on my hip and then he pushes into me, slowly at first to let me adjust to his size, when my lips have slipped around him, he slams into me…hard and deep. I gasp the pain is so familiar. It is so right. Again and again he slams into me, pushing further in and further up until I feel like I am going to split in two. He groans as I cum around his cock. My pussy pulsing and massaging his dick, urging him to let his seed go. He resists, as I knew he would. He pulls out of me and presses a finger against my ass. I feel the long talon (?), He is careful not to scratch me. I feel his finger slip into my ass. I sigh. It feels so good. I am anxious for it. I didn’t remember I liked it this way. He pushes his dick where his finger had been and slowly slips the tip in…pulsing in and out ever so slowly so that I won’t tear. When I am ready, he slides in, and I feel it all the way into my stomach. I rock with him, his fingers are manipulating my pussy, pulling and tugging on my clit, and finger fucking me. I shudder as I begin again to cum. He picks up the pace, pushing in as far as my body would let him, and harder than I could ever have imagined I could take. I am screaming at him, “harder, harder. Fuck me. Please….” I end up whining, begging him. I want to feel it hot and sticky all over my ass. He bellows, it is a frightening sound; I can’t help but think the sound of his voice would drive people insane. He lets loose his seed. I can feel his dick pumping into my ass. The molten liquid burns me. I can feel small blisters forming. He blows on them, cooling them instantly, they disappear. I feel no more pain. He puts a hand on my hair and kisses me on the cheek. I lie down and fall asleep. I wake up in my own bed. I am sore. I don’t know why. I have strange bruising on my hips, and arms. Small scratches on my breasts. And a feeling of something I had forgotten. I hated it when I had nights like this. When I dreamed too hard. I took a shower and got ready for work. I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes seemed different. There was something I was supposed to remember. What was it? I knew it would bother me all day. I was frustrated with it by the time I got to work. I spent the day in mindless paperwork. I went home and cooked a simple dinner, drank a glass of the wine that my friend Damon had brought over a few nights ago. I got sleepy and went to bed. I fell into bed nude. Too tired to pull a t-shirt over my head. I suddenly remembered what I had forgotten. I was supposed to meet Damon the night before, for drinks. I made a promise to myself to call him and apologize in the morning, and make a new date. I sighed as I drifted to sleep. Forgotten Domestication began with the first contact with the human, this was the stance of the pack as it was the stance of the leader. The leader had no name. None of them had names. They did not understand the concept of language, and many of them if given the opportunity would defer, and flea to be with the others safe and serene in the community of the pack. Smith shuddered to think he'd once been like them. Afraid. Now he spent most of his time among the humans, moving with them, laughing with them, talking their talk and dreaming their strange dreams. He enjoyed the look and smell and feel of their culture and once he'd learned their words he thought of himself as a sort of reverse paleontologist. And in his case his fascination had begun only tepidly with first contact. It had been a small boy in the woods, lost, separated from his family. The boy had been cold, unmoving, seeming-lifeless and, upon first, approach unresponsive. Sniff, circle, sniff again. And then the sound and the movement of the boy and he was back and away, frightened. He didn't know about tears then, but the boy had been crying them, and he hadn't know the word for it then, but the boy had been as his pack had always been taught to be, afraid. Nothing kept him there, there were no ropes or traps, simply the boy, huddled and alone and fearful, and in that instant the birth of his humanity began. He neared the boy again, the boy shuttering with the cold of the night, and became warmth as a mother had once done for him, as all mothers would do for all cubs. And the boy gave him the name wolf and he said it and then the bigger ones came and took the boy away and Wolf went home to keep silent, knowing the damage was done and the smell was on him and that they would cast him away. *** Then came the women... he recalled them quite well. In the water of the stream, singing until they saw him watching and then they were still and quiet. He told them his name and inched towards the water, head low to show he was in no mood to bight and run. One of them, the smallest came up from the water, the other two making quick movements behind her to stop her, but missing her. She let out a hand and he tasted the wetness on her fingers and then she rubbed his mane and he was hers. He did not go back to the pack then, but went along with them and lived until the little one was grown. It was her who changed his name to John Smith and she loved him and to smell his paws. He loved to lick her face and practice her name sometimes at night when he knew she couldn't hear. "M-maggie," he would say softly in the night, curled up on the rug beside her bed. She left when the time came. Her schooling demanded it, for she was not so little anymore. And after her departure, and being told he couldn't go, he ran away and decided to try the change. "Hey, Johnny." He shook suddenly and looked up into Maggie's face. "Hey," he said, smiling his broad smile. "I about gave up on you." She sat and put her bag beside the chair. It was one of the outdoor cafes she liked. "You looked a million miles away," she said, flagging a waiter. "Dreaming of long lost loves, I take it?" "How well you read my face." "It's a nice face, easy to read." She took his tea and sipped. "You always take it so black," her face was a grimace as she sipped again. "Why?" "I like harsh flavors," he said. "Shocks the palate, wakes me up." "You're never going to be a morning person are you?" "For you, I'd be any kind of person." "Flatterer." He smiled as they brought her something strong and laced with mint. "Seems I already know so much about you and we've only been together a few weeks. How you take your tea, and that you like to walk around at night. You know, you even talk in your sleep." "What do I say?" "My name, usually. Sometimes it's almost like you're awake." He nodded. "Perhaps part of me is?" She was leaning in and looking into his eyes. "You're staring again." "I can't help it, they're just so arresting. It's like I've looked into them before. Isn't that odd?" He sipped his tea, trying not to look into her eyes again, afraid to let her know. "Do I say anything else... When I'm asleep that is?" "No... You make noises, though." She looked down into her cup. "Sad noises, as if you'd lost something..." "Haven't lost anything, love. Must just be odd dreams." *** At night, married, living with her in a flat, smelling the smell of her mingled with his, feeling her curled against him, neither sleeping. "You alright, John?" "Fine, love." "Thinking?" "Trying not to, actually." "What?" "...to think. I can't seem to stop." "I know, I can't stop thinking either. What names do you like?" "Oh, I don't know," he sifted slightly onto his side, facing her. "There are so many." She snuggled up closer, pressing her face to his chest. "I love how warm you are. And the sound of your breathing..." "Next you'll be asking to smell my paws..." "What?" He looked down at her. "Nothing..." Sleep came and went and in the morning she was gone and a note was beside him on the table a little blue book beneath it. "I had a dog with your name once, a wolf. I used to smell his paws. This was our book of poems." In the mirror, the lather up, scrapping the blade over his chin, needing another haircut, he goes over his agenda at the office. "You there, Smitty?" "W-what?" "Legal said the briefs could be done by one o'clock, a late luncheon alright with you to review?" "Y-Yeah. See you in a bit, Harvey." "You alright, mate? You sound funny." "Just..." Looking in the mirror, the face is so alien. "Thinking about baby names." "Congratulations again, mate," a sound of papers shuffling on the other end of the line. "You ringing off?" "Y-Yeah," shaking his head. "Sorry, just a bit muddled. Care to pop 'round with Laura after work, have some wine?" "Mags'll be there?" "Yes." "We've got us a foursome, then. A bit, right?" "Yeah." Ending the man's call, looking at the man's face, listening to the man's voice. Maybe the haircuts can wait... In the bedroom, socks, underwear, trousers, shoes, shirt, tie, vest, jacket, watch, cufflinks, spectacles... and then the book in his hand and open and he reads aloud in the voice that is the only one he recalls knowing. "Now, do I remember the name but have forgotten the flower." Smitty... He was Smitty. The rest... was forgotten, the rest never was. There was nothing wild to cry out for the death. The man straightened his tie, brushed away lint, and left to catch the tube. Forgotten Again A soft sigh escaped her pale lips as she stared back towards the shore. Strawberry blond shoulder length hair fell in damp strands to cover most of her grey eyes. Her thin legs were pulled against her chest as her chin rest upon her knees. "Surprise... Once again your Prince Charming has failed to show." Came a voice from behind her. She didn't show any sign that she heard him; though he knew she did. "I don't understand you at times, Sara.." He said running a hand through his hair and looking around. They were about a mile or two away from mainland, on a small secluded island. It was quite a swim to reach but oh so worth it. From here they could no longer hear the sounds of the beach.. The rambunctious children, the partying teens, none of it. All that was heard was the sound of water hit land and seagulls overhead. He glanced down at her and felt his heart tug. He hated to see her like this... He moved closer to her and sat down, carefully wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her right shoulder. "You could do so much better..." He was talking more to himself than her. He would never treat her this way... He would never make her upset... He would of taken care of her.. His mind began to trail off before he mentally slapped himself; knowing he shouldn't be think of Sara this way. "He's not that bad Brandon.." She said, barely above a whisper. She felt him chuckle. He continued to hold her until the material of her thin black bikini and his trunks were near dry. At that point he pulled away and stood. "I didn't come to the beach to sit around all sad because fuck-face screwed you over again." He declared. He offered her his hand, which she took, and helped her stand. With out another word he gently pulled her towards the water. The warm sand, gritty yet soft, falling between their bare toes as they moved. He grinned as the water began to splash around his ankles and, after moving deeper, his waist then chest. Their skin suddenly became covered in a thin layer of goose bumps as their bodies adjusted to the refreshing coolness of the salty water. Brandon glanced over his shoulder and couldn't help but let his eyes wonder over Sara's body, admiring how she looked in the water... her hair clinging to her neck, her nipples pressed against the thin material of her suit, and how she appeared weightless. He turned and pushed his hands forward, sending a wall of water towards her, causing her to squeal in shock and jump back. It wasn't long after that her smile returned and she was splashing through the cool water. He grinned as he watched her dive under the water and reappear mere inches in front of him. She glanced up and saw something odd in his eyes.. She tilted her head and perked "What?" "Nothing... Just..." He continued to stare at her. His longing for her growing with each passing second. "God.. You're so fucking gorgeous..." He mumbled bending down to lightly press his lips against hers. Sara gasped slightly, out of shock, out of glee. She could feel her heart skid to a stop as he began to press more firmly against her. She found herself lost in this abyss he created, her hands slowly making their way to wrap around his neck. Her hands stopped short and pressed against his chest as she stepped back. Her face flushed as she stuttered, "I'm sorry, Brandon...I can't do this..." "Give me one good reason why not?" He replied, his voice dry. "And don't you dare say because of What's-His-Face." His eyes rolled. "You know as well as I do he doesn't feel any guilt about going behind your back with other girls... Why in gods name should you..." It wasn't much of a question...but more of a statement. He inhaled and watched her, waiting to hear her argument. But she didn't have one. Her mind raced for a reason, but it was in vain. She opened her mouth to say so, but changed her mind before speaking and instead crashed her lips back to his. Her arms moved around his neck this time, pulling him closer to her. She felt him move his own arms around her waist as their lips continued to crush together. His tongue ran along her lower lip and she eagerly opened her mouth, allowing their tongues to collide in an almost desperate manner. Brandon pushed deep into her mouth as she clung to him, her head moving from side to side. As he continued to assault her mouth with his own he began to pull their bodies through the water and back to the beach. Mouths separated, just long enough so Sara was able to lay on her back on a large blue beach towel. He towered over her, hands on either side of her head, his legs bent and resting to her right. She shivered slightly as his hand began to slide over her neck and over her shoulder. Her arms moved to wrap tightly around his neck as he pulled his mouth away from her. Sara opened her eyes and looked at him, pleading him not to stop. Brandon's mouth lowered again and began to kiss along her jaw line. Her eyes fluttered close again, her hands tangled in his hair. As he reached the left side of her face he moved from her jaw to her ear. Gently nibbling and sucking it into his mouth, causing her to moan softly under him. He felt her grip on him tighten and started to move down her neck. His hand, that had been on her shoulder moments ago, slowly reached down and took hold of her right breast. His thumb brushed over her nipple, making her shudder. His hand moved up slightly then back down, pulling her bikini top under her chest, exposing her completely. He ran his lips over her cleavage then slowly down to her nipple, replacing his hand on the other. Her back arched, craving more of the wet friction His tongue swirled over her a few times while his hand teased her other breast. After a few moments his kisses once again were moving.. Downwards towards her stomach. He moved from side to side, dragging his tongue along her skin as he kissed. His mouth traveled towards her belly button, running over the piece of metal, before continuing downwards. His body shifted now, between her legs with his hands running up her thighs from her knees. She spread her legs apart more, begging him to stop teasing her as he was now kissing along her skin, just before it disappeared under the material of her bikini bottoms. He left her stomach and was now kissing along her thigh. Sara lifted her head, eyes now open, and watched him. Her hips moved against him and he moved over slightly, kissing her through the thin material. She gasped slightly and bit on her bottom lip as his hands traveled to her hips and pulled on the strings holding the suit together, letting it fall out of his way. He kissed along her mound before firmly sliding his tongue up her slit, spreading her lips. Her head fell back as he continued playing with her, his tongue moving up and down a few more times then running over her clit, causing her to buck her hips closer to him. He pulled her clit into his mouth and sucked on it carefully, his hands caressing her legs. Sara's knees began to fell weak as the soft moans that had been escaping her throat grew louder and more constant. Brandon groaned as he listened to her, sending strong vibrations through her body. His left hand left her leg and began to rub her pussy under his chin, he hesitated then slowly slipped a single calloused finger into her. He waited for a moment, listening to her breathing.. He felt her squirm under him and pulled his finger out, only to push it further in. His pace was painfully slow at first until her moans urged him to quicken. He continued to abuse her with his finger as her clit throbbed inside his mouth until her back arched sharply and he felt her shake under him. Sara cried out and clenched her eyes shut. She tightened around his finger as he pushed it inside her once final time as she came. He moved up her body as her chest raised and fell heavily as she tried to slow her racing heart. Her eyes opened to find his face above her. She smiled weakly at him and reached up with her hand to pull him down to her. She kissed him softly as he tangled his arms around her. Her breathing had slowed slightly though refused to return to normal as her nails scraped down his back until they were able to take hold of the elastic in his trunks. She slid her fingers under the material and around to his front. She pushed downwards until her hand brushed against his erection and he growled excitedly into her mouth. She wrapped her fingers around the base firmly and began to twist her hand around and up to the head. He pulled away from her mouth and pressed his face against her neck as she continued stroking him. Suddenly she stopped and he almost cried out in protest. She smirked and moved away from him. She stood and pulled him with her. She kissed him again, pushing her tongue deep inside his mouth, running it along the inside of his teeth before pulling him to where a single beach bench sat. Sara broke the kiss then pushed him onto it so she was able to kneel between his legs. Looking up at him with excited grey eyes she began to stroke his cock again. She waited a moment before opening her mouth and pushing the head of his cock inside to lay on top of her tongue. She could hear Brandon moan as his hands pushed against the back of her head. She continued to stroke him in and out with her lips, as well as with her hand. Her head began to move up and down his shaft faster, her eyes continuing to look up at him through strands of hair that fell across her face. He grunted loudly and grabbed a fistful of her hair, thrusting himself into her throat one last time as his body shuttered. She kept her mouth on him and swallowed. She moved her hand up and down slowly before pulling away and standing between his legs. She ran her lips softly along his neck, his hands placed on the small of her back as she felt him slide off the bench. He turned so that they switched places, now she was pinned between him and the wood table. She lifted herself up, allowing her slender legs to wrap around his hips. Sara gasped suddenly, feeling Brandon start to push into her slowly. He continue until he filled her completely. She tightened her legs and he began to pull out, almost all the way, before pushing in again. He moved slowly, not wanting to hurt her. Soon Sara was thrusting forwards to meet him and he quickened. His lips locked down on her neck tightly as they moved, thrusting and moaning together. His muscles began to tense and he bit into her neck, causing her to take a sharp inhale of breath. Sara ran her hands up his back and neck as she felt herself getting closer to her second orgasm. "Oh God... Sara" He growled into her ear. He felt her nails claw into his back and her body shuttered and tightened around his shaft. He grunted and thrust into her once more before sending himself over the edge. She was calling out his name as he came inside her. They lost track of how long they stood there, trying to catch their breath. Sara could feel him go limp inside her before he slowly pulled away and her legs dropped. He traced along her facial features slowly with his thumb and kissed her forehead. "I'm glad he didn't come.." He muttered.