9 comments/ 90430 views/ 12 favorites Haunting By: MDF251 ~ Andy's eyes spoke volumes. He was Jack Nickleson in the Shining - madness swirled inside him. His grin was but a cruel smear across his lips, as he entered Amber's bedroom. Amber moaned softly, hearing him enter. Ready and, strangely, eager for his dull surprise, she moved, without looking, taking an inviting position on the bed. Amber wasn't ready. Amber wasn't ready for this Andy at all. A scream echoed through the house that night. It was short lived. Andy's penetration had been brutal, animalistic in intensity. His powerful thrust propelled Amber's body forward, smashing her into the headboard of the bed. Unconscious she never felt the culmination of the sex thrust at her but, Andy did. White knuckled, he strained to tear the headboard apart, cumming harder than he ever had, crying out her name. ~ Chapter One Six months earlier.... "Andrew Stockman, please report to the principals office." The announcement came as a surprise and an embarrassment to Andy. A wave of guilt went through him and gave rise to an uneasiness that wasn't deserved. "Andrew? Did you hear the announcement?" His teacher asked, knowing fair well he had. "Yes – may I be excused?" "You may and the rest of you can stop your snickering." Andy left the classroom humiliated and wondering. He hadn't done anything wrong, at least as far as he knew and so the request came as a shock. Feeling condemned, for some reason, his walk took a somber tone and he stretched the time as long as he dared. "Hi, Andrew Stockman" He stated without conviction, "I was called to report..." Andy had no idea what was going on. The receptionist's eyes blinked once and then tears formed. Without a word she held up her arm and pointed to the principal's office. Jesus did the pope die? Andy wondered, moving off towards the principal's office, giving the receptionist one last glance. Past visits had educated him, he knocked and waited. "Come in." Andy hesitated and then turned the door knob entering, "Its Andrew Sir...I was called in." Andy was barely through the door when principal Hardy stood up – stood to attention, so to speak. "Andrew, please come in." Principal Hardy made a hand gesture, averting his eyes, indicating for Andy to take a seat in the chair before his desk. Andy did as requested and noted the principal's continued lack of eye contact. What the hell? "Andy – excuse me, may I call you Andy?" "Yeah – I mean yes, it's my name." "Andy, I have some bad – some terrible news for you." Principal Hardy began. "Your father...He's – he's been in a accident..." Hardy began and hesitated, faltering over his next words. "I'm afraid the news is the worst." "What? I don't understand sir. Accident? Is he alright?" Andy was half out of his chair by the time he finished questing Principal Hardy. "No son. I'm sorry. Your father was....He's dead Andy." Andy fell backward, nearly toppling the chair. His pallor turned ashen and his jaw dropped, opening his mouth in a silent scream. "Your mother will be here shortly. She asked me to prepare you. I am sorry Andy and of course our hearts and prayers are with you and your mother. If there's anything I – we can do..." Hardy's words fell on deaf ears. Weak, shaking, arms pushed Andy up and he struggled to gain his feet. Principal Hardy quickly rose, slamming his desk chair backward and rushed around his desk, feeling Andy might collapse. He cursed silently to himself for having to give this boy such devastating news but, knew it was part the job. Andy held up one arm, bent slightly at the elbow, giving Hardy a palm, denying his approach. "Andy, please, allow me to help you." Hardy implored him. Andy said nothing. His face, strangely expressionless, only stared in the principal's direction, his eyes looking through the man that had informed him of his father's death. Briefly steadying him self, using the chairs high back, Andy turned slowly and left the office to wait for his mother. The next seven days would be a week of personal hell for Andy, a week of unbelievable sadness and agony. Chapter Two Agony turned into withdrawal. Withdrawal turned into denial. Andy was certain the experience had to be a dream - a horrible, nightmarish, dream but, even in that state, he silently marveled at the strength of his young mother. Perhaps, it was for this reason Andy never cried. He never shed a tear. So strong was his denial, so unshakable his conviction that even when his father was placed into the ground he remained certain he would wake up. Andy finally did, some three weeks later, in torrent of grief and tears. Visited by his dead father, in a real dream, he came to grips with his loss. Amber, his mother, heard his wailing and rushed to his side, cradling him in an effort to sooth his grief. "Andy – Oh God Andy I know, I know baby." She said softly, stroking his head and gently rocking him. "I know how much you loved him. I did too but, he's gone Andy. It's just you and me now." Andy's intense sobbing gave way to muffled blubbering. Amber had his face pressed to her nearly bare breasts. His tears ran down her cleavage and soaked the silk material of her flimsy nightgown. Slowly, the death grip he had around her waist eased and she, too, released her tight hold on him. She kissed the top of her sons head and then softly lifted it by placing her fingers under his chin. "It's going to be okay Andy. I'll never leave you – it's going to be..." Amber stopped talking and gasped when she felt Andy's young hand cup her breast. "I – I know (sniff), I know dad told me (sniff – sniff). He told me you liked this when he did it." Andy's fingers tented and softly pulled out and over the fullness of Amber's tit. They stopped at her nipple, turning it instantly hard. Shocked and speechless, Amber's body went rigid. Her son's hand remained, fondling her breast and nipple, as her first thought was, how did he know? A flood of memories went through her mind. Memories of Jack's tenderness and the titty game played when he wanted sex with her. Jack could have her at the edge without ever touching her vagina. She shivered, mightily, before finally summoning the strength to place her hand over Andy's. "Andy...It was a dream - that's all." Gently, she pulled her son's hand from her sensitive breast. "A dream, that's all Andy. You need some rest. We'll talk in the morning" Their eyes met for a brief moment and Andy's look made her uneasy. He was so like his father. His intense dark brown eyes; the nose, slightly up-turned and his fair, dark, skin, the trade mark of his father's Mediterranean heritage, all made Andy a youthful Jack. Andy dropped back onto his pillow but, before she could rise from his bed, Andy gripped her leg – high on her thigh, at the point where her upper body made the crease at her leg. It sent another shiver through her. Jack loved to squeeze her there. Amber slid off the bed and gently caressed Andy's forehead. "Good night." It would be hours before she finally rested herself. What had he meant - Jack told him? Told him what? How – the dream? There was no mistaking what Andy had said and - done. What bothered her most were the feelings and the emotions he had conjured up with his touch. By the next morning a sound, a well deserved rest had erased the event with Andy. Amber was busily washing dishes when she heard his approach. "Morning. Did you sleep well?" She asked, without turning around. Andy's reply came seconds later. Andy went straight for his mother, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Umm, yeah – I slept great." It wasn't Andy's voice. Fear forced her mind back to night before, as Andy leaned in, placing a soft kiss on the nape of her neck. The kiss sent goose bumps up and down her arms and she immediately thought of Jack, wondering what might be next. Andy, now resting his head on her shoulder, squeezed with his arms, pulling her back into him. Amber bit her lower lip, trying not scream, feeling the unmistakable shape pressing into her ass. Her mind flashed back. Jack always had a morning erection and, more often than not, shared the fact with her just as Andy was now doing. Shaken, unable to move, Amber steadied herself using her hands on the counter. Andy slowly wiggled his erection, forcing the material of her nightgown and his penis into the crack of her ass. Tightly pinned against the counter, Amber bit harder, creating a small trickle of blood, where her teeth had cut the skin. Her eyes closed when Andy's bear like hug loosened and one hand slid up and into her nightgown. He captured a breast and Amber, instinctively moaned, tipping her head back. Her mind raced. Jack had taken her many, many times in the early morning. It was his "quickie", as they had often joked about. She had always welcomed his sexual hunger, expected or not but, especially when it was unexpected. Fear and wanting consumed her. Andrew's lips, now on her neck, sucked and kissed the soft, sensitive skin there, while his free hand slowly drug up her nightgown, in small gathered bunches. "I want you – I need you so bad Amber." Andy said softy but, again, it wasn't Andy – it was Jack. She heard Jack's voice not Andy's. "I'm so sorry I left you but I'll never leave again." Amber's fingers turned white from her death grip on the counter. With one final quick jerk, Andy had the back of her nightgown above her waist. His hard penis pressed into her soft, bare, ass and, this time, she gasped - loudly. This can't be happening! Her mind screamed out. Whatever was going on she had to end it but, there was one thing she had to know. If it was truly Jack standing behind her, he would surely do one more thing. Something they had both enjoyed. Jack had always given Amber an option, without forcing himself on her. Jack had always pressed his penis down, letting his hard, throbbing, shaft rest between her legs. If Amber was willing she'd part her legs and let it spring up. She was almost always willing and always wet. Holding her breath, she licked at the trickle of blood and waited. Moments later she had an answer. Feeling Andy's hand slide against her bare ass and grab his penis, her eyes opened, in yet another shock. Like her husband, he forced his thick, hard, head down between her legs, leaving it there, pressing heavily into the backside of her legs. Tears formed in her eyes. Still holding her breath, she, slowly, parted shaking legs and let Andy's penis rise, whispering but a single, barely audible, word. "Jack." Andy's lips formed into a grin and he moved his hips. The movement was torturous for Amber. Everything her mind screamed out said it was wrong and, yet, silently she prayed for just the opposite. Her prayer was granted. Andy's movement eventually placed his penis at the portal to her vagina and she felt the arc of his shaft, as it slid forward and in. Andy impaled her, coming to rest tightly against her ass. Insanity set in. Amber's mind folded. In the blink of an eye, Jack was no longer dead. Jack was alive and standing behind her. She widened her stance and sank down. It was pure passion and love of her husband that drove her. It had been so long and Jack was so hard – so eager and she cried out to him, telling him to fuck her, begging him. It was Andy's fingers that dug into the soft flesh of her hips but, it was Jack's voice. Deep, guttural, and passionate it drove Amber's desire. She found herself close to climax in no time. It was something that rarely happened when Jack was alive. Jack had always come quickly. She had never doubted his passion, or, the fact he gave her no time to climax herself – after all it was just a quickie, as they had so often joked about. There was something different about this Jack. He was giving no indication of quick release. Vaginal fluid ran down the inside of her legs. The heat of climax built inside her. Each thrust from the powerful, young, legs seemed harder – more intense. At one point, his power even lifted her feet off the floor and she grabbed frantically for the faucet to steady herself. "God yes, Jack – yes!" She cried out, certain she was about to explode. Andy's deep penetration eased up, as he altered the movement of his hips. Rapid, shallow thrusts sent his mother over the edge. Amber screamed the scream of lovers. She came hard. Every fiber of her being was alive and tingling. But, Jack – Andy, wasn't quite through with her. He hadn't cum yet. Her breathing came in short, rapid, pants and she desperately held on to the faucet. Jack had never lasted so long. Her body jumped with every new penetration and she felt like she might faint. Her clit was on fire and a new climax began to build, driving her even more insane with sexual passion. The end came with a, near, super human effort by Andy. Amber snapped her eyes closed, praying once again. This time for Jack to cum. She was about to climax again, when she felt his hands move. With a sudden jerk, Andy gripped her hamstrings and forced her feet off the floor. At the same time his gave a final mighty thrust, sending his penis deep inside her as he came. Amber was literally impaled on his shaft and pinned against the counter. The force of his climax was nothing like she'd ever experience. She came again, this time with Jack and harder than her first. Slowly, Andy allowed her legs to drop. His breathing sounded like a man that had run a ten mile marathon. Amber's legs were weak and shaky. She couldn't imagine how he was still standing. When her feet, again, touched the floor Amber quickly rose up on her toes, feeling Andy move, pulling his penis from her body and she screamed out. "Oh God – NO!" It was over and, unable to look, Amber remained facing the kitchen window, listening to his footsteps fade. It was only then that she placed her hands over her face. Tears formed. Seconds later, a torrent ran down her cheeks as emotions of shame, yearning and a sickening, deep, ache in her loins caused more pain than she could stand. Amber slowly regained sanity and some composure. She moved away from the kitchen counter, letting her clothing drop back into place and dried off her face. Her first step was short, not knowing if she could walk. Her foot landed in a pool of cum and she cried out, jumping back hard into the counter. She dropped to her knees, covering her face once again, as renewed tears started up. How? How could you have let him...? She cried out in her mind, as unbelievable anger and grief tortured her. "Mom...What happened? Is breakfast ready?" Andy's sudden appearance shook her to the core and she slammed back against the kitchen counter doors. Her face turned ashen and her mouth gaped ad with blood shot eyes, she stared at her son, unable to speak. "What?" Andrew asked, his face registering curiosity and then, slowly, a certain sort of fear. "Is everything okay? What's going on mom?" "Nothing – nothing Andy - sit down, I'll get breakfast in a minute." Amber's mind reeled, after her reply, at the apparent implications. He doesn't remember a thing! She thought. How? How in the hell can you have sex like that and not remember? Keeping her eyes focused on her son, she rose from the floor slowly and dried her eyes. Nothing in his demeanor said he was aware. He was her Andy and that was all. Her heart swooned seeing him ready for school and expecting the breakfast she had always had ready. "I - I'm sorry Andy. I made a mess and had to clean it up. Can you eat cereal this morning?" She asked in a trembling voice, suddenly very conscious of what little she had on. "Geese mom, yeah, no problem." With that, Amber slipped silently from the kitchen, unable to look at Andy. A short time later, she heard him leaving and her legs gave out. She collapsed, clutching, hard, between her legs. A new torrent of tears ran down her face. Chapter Three By noon of that day, Amber Stockman had not recovered. The event had shorted circuited her, already, fragile mind. She was sure the woman staring back at her in the mirror was a stranger and moved away, unable to bear what she saw. A chill went through her, young, body, as a ghostly image formed in the mirror she'd just left. At 12:30 she was on the phone. "Doctor Rosenberg?" "Yes Mrs. Stockman, how may I help you?" The doctor answered. "I need to see you – today doctor!" Desperation commanded her voice, coming across loud and clear to the doctor's ears. Carl Rosenberg hesitated briefly, checking his schedule and then quickly relented, agreeing to a late afternoon meeting. Amber thanked him repeatedly. Setting the phone back into its cradle she felt some small relief. At 3:15 she left the house. Amber had met Rosenberg, a family practice doctor, many years back. When she and Jack married it had been Amber that insisted they keep him on. Rosenberg delivered their one and only son, Andy, a year later. "Amber, what's so important? Is there something wrong with Andrew?" Rosenberg asked, as Amber entered the office. No twinkle of eye greeted Amber this time. His demeanor offered the deeper concern he felt, as Jack's recent passing still bothered him. "Or is this about Jack?" "Yes – no, Oh God I just don't know." Amber replied, collapsing into the chair opposite his desk. She looked pallid. Scared beyond anything, or anyone, Rosenberg had ever seen, or experienced. Despite his deep personal feelings he waited for Amber to respond further. Her next question shocked him. "The dead...Do they..." She hesitated, seeming to search for words. "Can they come back?" Shocked and, yet, extremely curious, Rosenberg remained silent and gave himself a moment to compose an adequate response. He regarded her carefully, and too, he mentally reaffirmed Jack's death and what possible implications that might be playing within Amber's question. "Amber - Amber my dear, what you ask is impossible. The dead are dead." Although filled with compassion, his answer came out sounding blunt and he had instant regrets. "But..." "There are no buts Amber. We all die my dear and that is the end. Oh, I believe in the soul, at least to some degree, the after life and all but, to return – to haunt, no, this I don't believe. You are simply under stress." "It's not me!" She retorted, louder and seemingly more frightened. "What?" "It's Andrew!" "Andrew, I don't understand. What about Andrew?" Amber dropped her head, cradling it in her hands. Carl felt deeply for his patient but, there was little to do but wait. Finally, Amber raised her head and gave Rosenberg a weak smile. "It's Andrew – Andy, Dr. Rosenberg, I think...Oh God, and I think Jack is inside him somehow!" Rosenberg paused to consider her words. Nothing in his face gave indication of what he might be thinking and Amber's frustration grew, at his lack of response. "Well? You're thinking I'm crazy – or something, right?" She spouted off, sounding every bit as exasperated as she felt. "No, no my dear, quite the contrary, it's the farthest thing from my mind. As I said, I feel you're under stress – under pressure and wanting Jack not to be dead. What you say might be perfectly sane, given Andrew's close resemblance to his father." It was Rosenberg's best psycho-babble. Amber's demeanor changed. Some of the tension Rosenberg had seen seemed to fade and she eased back, considering what he had said. "So...You're saying I might be imagining this?" She replied, recalling the very real events of the morning. "Not at all my dear. Andrew looks every bit like his father – what imaging is there?" "But his voice..." Amber interjected. "That too - he's of age, his vocal cords have changed and I'm sure he even sounds like his father. After all, he has reached puberty Amber." Rosenberg offered, lapping his hands over his considerable paunch, forcing a smile. Jesus, if he only knew how much. Amber couldn't help thinking. She looked down, trying with all her might not to scream out what she knew. "Doctor Rosenberg...You're certain – absolutely certain, there is no way for the dead to..." Haunting "Yes, it's not possible. Consider this..." Carl began and then gave his next words added thought. "Your fear is nothing more than perhaps, desperately, wanting Jack back in your life. You see him everywhere and especially in your son - who so much resembles him. It's natural Amber and it will pass." Rosenberg felt especially proud of that diagnosis. He was far from a psychologist but he felt he'd hit the proverbial nail, "on the head", so to speak. Amber sighed heavily. She knew that the good doctor was wrong but, she gave him a weak smile anyway. Tell him – God damn it, tell him! Her mind screamed but she held back. The thought of exposing an incestuous relationship made her cower. "I see. It makes some sense doctor. I'd not thought of that and perhaps you're right. I do miss Jack so much." "I'm quite sure, more than even you might suspect. Go home Amber. Hug your son and tell him how much you love him. More importantly, look at him and celebrate his existence and just how much he does resemble Jack, for he truly is his father's son." Amber smiled. It was genuine but not heart felt. Something told her she had to. Dr. Rosenberg was certainly right about one thing, Andy was his father's son. "Thank you – I'm sure you're right. I feel silly coming here so desperately." "Nonsense, that's what I'm here for...And Amber, if there's anything else – anything at all please don't hesitate to call." Amber, feeling the flush of embarrassment forming, nodded toward Rosenberg and got up. "Thanks again and I will..." Amber rose in mid-sentence never completing her words. Her pleading eyes seemed to beg Rosenberg and as he extended his hand and he assured Amber. "I'm positive." He stated, clasping her small hand in his and holding it. Oddly, for being close friends, the moment turned awkward for them both. "Good – very good, you do that. We've been friends far too long." Rosenberg's smile was patriarchal and heart felt. Amber returned the smile and only then did he relinquish her hand. "Good bye Amber, until next time." Chapter Four Rosenberg eased back down into his chair. With extended fingers, he rubbed at his chin. Curious. He thought and offered Amber's visit a bit more thought before being interrupted. His last appointment of the day had arrived. On the other side of town Andy was making his way home. He hadn't been himself at school. As his day had went on strange, unnerving, thoughts had entered his mind and none of it made sense. Worse, he felt there was no way he could explain it to anyone, least of all his mother. The kind of day dreams he'd been having were just plain wrong. He laughed nervously and made the final turn towards his house. Amber was equally preoccupied with her thoughts. Rosenberg was right. Her mind demanded, and then aloud, to her self, she commented, "You've got to get a grip girl. Letting Andy do what he did was insane! It was all just some sort of weird coincidence – that' all." Deep down, she didn't believe. By the time she had turned on Hanover St., heading the last few blocks home, she'd did have one conviction - Andrew had simply had a morning erection, like most males, and she blamed herself for what happen. "Never again." She said aloud and made the turn into the driveway. Final thoughts went through her mind, just as she reached to turn off the car. Recalling what had happened, she returned to, why? Why had Andy just walked away? Why, in God's name had he not remembered any of it? The silence inside the car was deafening and it scared her. What scared her more was that Andy didn't seem to realize that he was having sex – let alone who he was having sex with. She withdrew the car keys and tarried a bit longer. A weak laugh escaped her lips after her mind sent a "You're thinking crazy" signal. Andrew had left no indication he was home. He simply went to his room and lay down on his bed. Amber stood for a moment and looked around, shrugged her shoulders and slipped from her shoes. Too exhausted to think any more, she dropped onto the couch. "A nap – a short one and I'll be fine." She muttered and almost instantly went to sleep. Shortly thereafter, Andrew woke. Without word he stepped in front of his dressing mirror and started to strip down. His face was strangely calm – in fact there was little or no emotion at all. He finished by kicking his underwear across the room and slowly looked up to take in his nudity. Andy's hands went to his face. Like spider legs, his fingers walked over his features – touching, feeling and gently rubbing what he saw. His fingers slid from his face, maintaining their slow dance over his chest, stopping briefly to play with nipples that were now hard. He touched, caressed and rubbed his youthful arms. A single eyebrow rose as he took in his flat, muscled, stomach. He touched it lightly and then dug his fingers in, crunching his stomach muscles into a scrub board of hard ripples. While Andrew primped and played with him self, Amber's nap had turned into a series of sexual dreams, staring her and her late husband, Jack. Beads of sweat ran down her temples and she mumbled softly, in response to Jack, in her dreams. It was Amber's hand that entered her blouse and shoved her bra up but, to her it was Jack. It was Amber that wrenched at the blouse, tearing buttons away to expose her tits but, in her dream it was Jack and she was chastising him for ruining her blouse. Her lips formed a near perfect circle and she gasped over Jack's advances in the vivid dream. She turned her head to the side, arched her head backward and cried out softly, as her hand plunged into her panties. "Jack – no, I can't." She muttered and then grinned, followed by more soft moans. The hand in her panties worked feverishly and her free arm shot over her head and clutched at the couch, all in response to her dreams. Andrew watched, unseen, unknown and silent. His fingers slowly rubbed at his stiff shaft. A leering grin formed on his lips, as he watched his mother grow close to climax. Jack was in control. It was Jack's voice that sighed out seeing Amber's hips suddenly arch up. Together, they waited and watched as she came hard, her pelvis quivering violently with the prolonged orgasm. The effects of masturbation grew on Amber's panties and Jack decided it was time to move. The ponderous, blood filled, weight of his young penis swayed in front of him, as he approached. His eyes were locked on Amber's panties and the prize they contained. His approach wasn't quiet and Amber's eyes suddenly shot open. Andy came to a stop directly in front of her, bending his knees and resting them on the couch. His penis slowly came to a stop in front of Amber's face. In a voice not Andy's, deeper - slightly more baritone, he spoke. "You remembered." Andy's head turned slowly, taking in his mother's body and finally came to a stop, locking his eyes with her frightened gaze. "I always loved it when you masturbated. I loved watching you." He fell silent and Amber froze, unable to speak or move. Wide eyed, she watched as a droplet formed on the end of his cock head. Her mouth moved but no sound came out. The droplet lengthened. A string of pre-cum slowly started to lower and Amber imagined the web of a spider, with strings of glistening silk. His penis looked massive. The veins were pronounced, dark reddish-purple, and pulsing to his heart beat. Still attached, the droplet eased down and came to rest on Amber's lower lip. Suddenly, she felt connected to Jack like no other time in their lives. Unable to look away from his engorged penis, Amber's tongue, slowly, pushed between her lips and swiped through the droplet. She closed her eyes, savoring the salty taste. "Oh God...is it really you Jack?" She asked in a timid, unsure voice, opening her eyes. "Damn you, why did you have to leave me?" The face staring down at her remained passive, as if unaware of what was happening. "You have me now." The deep voice's answer came with another warm droplet of pre-cum and Amber hungrily lapped it up in mid-air, before it reached her lips. A leering grin, again, formed on Andy's lips. "Damn you!" Amber lashed out, after licking her lips clean. "Yes." The voice retorted and then fell silent, waiting. Amber's mind took her back to the first time she had masturbated for her husband. It took her farther back replaying the first time Jack, in their youth, had persuaded her to give him a blow job. Both times were met with her resistance and temerity. During the latter, Jack had overcome her resistance using boyish charm and then, later in their lives, he'd used overwhelming lust to disarm her resistance. Amber groaned softly. "Oh God Jack you can't want me to..." But, she knew the answer to her unspoken question. Her right arm raised and, with trembling fingers, she gripped young Andrew's stiff shaft, low at its base, and brought it down to meet her lips. Lips that for the moment remained closed. "God damn it Jack, I can't – I can't do this!" Andy's face remained eerily blank. The reply was Andy's hand, placed heavily across Amber's mound and labia. Soaked panties offered little resistance to his probing fingers. Amber's eyes snapped shut, once again, and she moaned loudly. In a reflex action, she lifted her pelvis at what she felt sure was Jack's touch. His fingers pressed into the silk material, pushing it between her flared lips, making Amber cry out. "Jack! It's been too long Jack..." Andy's fingers found Amber's clit, restarting the passion from her dream. The naked eye wasn't capable of catching the speed of Amber's next movement. Andy's cock head disappeared between Amber's puckered lips. A throaty, guttural, moan followed and Amber was transported back to the last time she'd sucked on her husbands cock. Eager, hungry, lips sucked and kissed his penis. Her tongue lavishly licked its head and toyed with the hole that would bring her pleasure. Through it all, Amber dared not breathe, certain it might still be a dream. Finally, forced to breath, she pulled off his shaft. A thick string of saliva and pre-cum followed and she licked at it eagerly. Andrew's hand moved. Balling his hand into a fist, just above her panty line, he quickly extended his fingers and slipped them under the wet material. His thumb pressed into her soft mound, as his index and middle fingers found her hard, sensitive, button. Amber's hips jerked up and she screamed out in pleasure. Amber stared at her son's hand, praying he wouldn't stop, as she absently stroked up and down his shaft. She knew this game and her left hand joined in, grasping his tightened testicle sack before she returned her attention and lips back to the penis she gripped. Jack stiffened his newly occupied, young, body and drove his hips towards Amber's eager mouth. She gagged before half of the shaft went past her lips but, there was no stopping her desire. Jack had her so close now. Barely able to hold her pelvis up, she shook with greater and greater intensity until blinding flashes of light, within her eyes, signaled her cumming. Her mouth suddenly opened and she breathed deeply, in a prolonged gasp. Her left hand released Andy's balls and groped for Jack's hand, holding it tight against her pussy. She forced his fingers to work harder and harder against her clit. Wave after wave of intense pleasure passed through her body, before she finally dropped her hips, desperately trying to create space between her sex organs and his hand. "Jesus – sweet Jesus, no more Jack...Please no more baby!" She cried out. She felt her panties snap back into place. Andy moved, ripping her hand from his penis. Breathing heavy and labored, she slowly came down. Her heart pounded in her chest and she watched Andy's athletic, nude, body leave the room. Amber closed her eyes and sighed. It was over and she couldn't recall the last time she'd felt so good. "Jack – Jack." She mumbled lovingly and drifted away in a deep sleep. Hours later, Amber woke with startled jerk. Chapter Five With some difficulty, Amber managed to rise, sitting up. She shook her head trying to clear her mental fog. "Jesus what a dream." She muttered. Slowly the living room came into focus. For the first time, she noticed her blouse and bra. A certain shock and wonder took over. What the hell... And she quickly reached to pull her bra back over her breasts. Uncertain hands lifted the torn blouse. Lines of strain formed at the corners of her eyes as she tried to recall. In frustration, she wrapped the torn halves around her upper torso and scanned the room. When she slid her legs from the couch she felt the, cool, wetness between them. Her hand went to the couch and the dark spot on it. Fear crept into her mind. God damn it, it was dream! I know it was! She thought but, her eyes and face told another story. Shakily, she got up from the couch and made her way into the kitchen, clutching at her torn blouse with one hand and placing the other to cover her crotch. The kitchen was brightly lit and remnants of a small meal were scattered on the table. Amber began to laugh – a giddy, insane sort of laugh, as she stumbled into the room. Andy was home. Had he seen her dreaming? Had he been watching when she had...? She clamped her eyes shut and shook her head. Get a grip! She screamed silently to herself. The events of the entire day replayed in her mind. The incestuous interaction with Andy; her visit to Dr. Rosenberg and the dream she'd had. God, Jack had seemed so real but, it was a wet dream and that was all. She wanted to believe in what Rosenberg had told her – she had to. It was her own desperation, her own desire to have Jack back. Leaning heavily against the wall, she even tried to convince herself that what happened that morning wasn't real. Andy had never been there. Fantasizing about Jack, she'd somehow brought Andrew into the daydream. How else could she explain Andy's normal behavior a short time later? The giddy laugh returned. Mentally exhausted, Amber turned off the kitchen light and made her way to her bedroom. Perhaps she needed more than Rosenberg. Perhaps she needed a real psychiatrist? As she closed in on her room she felt she'd just held the first truly sane thought in some time. A weak smile punctuated the idea and Amber turned the knob on her door. "Tomorrow – tomorrow is another..." She started to mumble and instantly froze in her tracks. Amber's gaze, down cast as she entered, took in the feathered duvet and sheet, lying in a heap at the end of the bed. She forced her eyes up, looking at her bed. Andrew, stark naked, legs splayed apart, lied in the middle of the bed, fast asleep. His chest and belly moved easily to his deep breathing. Amber's eyes narrowed, as she focused in on her son's manhood. Flaccid, it was listing off the side of his lower abdomen. Pooled in his bellybutton she saw the thick remains of cum. An abject fear made her eyes widen. A rivulet of sticky semen had oozed from the pool and ran onto the bed's sheet. Her hand went to her mouth, stifling the scream whelming up. Shocked eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed on the bedroom floor – unconscious. The thud of her body woke Andrew. His eyes fluttered and he stretched, afterward scratching himself, as men often do following a good sleep. A yawn followed and he swung his legs off the bed to sit up. He seemed unconcerned about his nudity, as he gazed at his fallen mother. He rose from the bed and almost casually walked towards Amber. "Why Amber? Why do you fear me?" A voice, not Andy's, questioned aloud. Andrew squatted, lovingly placing one arm under his mother's head and neck. With his other, he firmly gripped her limp legs. Strong thigh muscles propelled him up and he gave a short heave to center Amber's body in his arms. "Why?" He repeated and turned to carry her to her bed. Gently he lowered Amber to the bed and before releasing her head, made sure a pillow would cradle it. Her clothes Andrew – take them off. She never sleeps in her clothes. Jack's voice spoke softly in Andy's head. Andy obeyed. He set about removing his mother's clothing. As he did so, Andrew spoke back to his father. "Is she okay dad?" Yes, Jack answered back inside Andy's head. She just fainted. Andy smiled and rolled his mother to the side, gently pulling her arm from the torn blouse. He rolled her back and extracted her other arm, tossing the garment aside. Now, her bra, Andy - do you know how? Jack questioned. Andy simply nodded. Andy studied the bra's clasp, fumbled with it briefly and then finally managed to unhook it. As before, he was gentle. It was Jack that stayed his hands from going farther. Beautiful aren't they Andy? I've always loved your mother's breasts. Feel them with me. Andy's smile widened and with hands guided by his father he cupped Amber's tits. Age and gravity had not yet taken their toll. Even lying on her back, Amber's breasts appeared firm. Andy's fingers softly caressed their fullness. Jack guided Andy's hands away to softly caress her bare mid-riff. Andy's sigh came out deep, in a rich baritone quality. Let's get on with it. Jack demanded inside his son's head. The skirt was much easier for Andy. Seconds later, he was pulling the garment down Amber's legs, tossing it aside, as he'd done with her blouse and bra. Andy's penis started to rise, seeing Amber's wet panties. There was a slight trembling in his hands. His breathing changed, turning shallow, as he gripped the waist band of her silk panties and started to pull. Amber stirred briefly, flopping one arm over her head. Jack stayed Andrew's hands once again until Amber had quieted down. The small, blonde, tuff of hair, just above the split of her labia was visible. Andy, at Jack's mental urging bent slowly and placed a tender kiss on Amber's bare, soft, mound before continuing the task at hand. Amber was one those woman fortunate, or nor not - depending on opinion, who's inner vaginal lips were pronounced. Like ribbons of bright pink coral they protruded between the outer lips of her labia. Jack recalled the first time he'd laid eyes on her and Andrew instantly understood how special his father considered his mother's beauty. Just past the spot marking the start of her fabulous slit, Amber's clit poked through. A gentle finger slid over the nerve filled button, as Andy slid his mother's panties down. Jack smiled inside Andrew's head. Finish it, he said and Andy moved to pull the soiled panties from his mother's legs. Now cover her Andrew, I don't want her to get cold. The look on Andy's faced turned confused. Standing up-right over his mother he questioned his father. "But, I thought you wanted to..." I did but, she's had enough tonight. She'll enjoy it more tomorrow – cover her Andy. Jack's silent voice told his son. He did as requested and returned to his room. Moments later Andy was hard asleep and dreaming a dream shared by his mother. Chapter Six The following morning Amber awoke, dazed and confused. She was in bed and couldn't recall getting there. Slowly, she became aware of her total nudity and clutched the bed covering tightly around her neck. Since Jack's death she had never gone to bed nude. There seemed to be something inherently wrong with the idea to her. Long moments passed by as Amber's mind considered the possibilities. Something told her to feel between her legs and she sighed with relief. Below, no telltale sign of having had sex existed. No crusted cum met her probing fingers and yet she felt an urge to shower – a strong, overwhelming, desire and she moved to get out of bed. Something else hit her hard as she stood up. Amber felt as if she was being watched. Small hairs on the back of her neck stood up and, unconsciously, she attempted to cover herself, as she hurried to her bathroom. Haunting Hot shower water soon had the bath fogging over. The uneasy feeling faded from Amber as she opened the shower doors and stepped in. Had she looked, Amber might have noticed something resembling fog materialize through the bath door. Jack smiled to him self, seeing his wife's firm buttocks enter the shower. The swirling mist of his essence drifted up and he watched Amber cleanse her body. A ghostly hand reached out and passed through Amber's shoulder. She shivered and quickly looked behind her. Deep sorrowing thought entered Jack's mind - how cruel, how terrible fate was. Floating above his naked wife, he wanted but one simple thing. He wanted to touch her, to love her, and yet he knew that only through his son could he do that. The non-fog above Amber slowly faded. Jack was gone but, not without leaving a message. Unnerved, Amber decided to quickly end her shower. The thought, from the night before, hit her strongly – she had to see a psychiatrist! Preoccupied with her inner thoughts and toweling off it was a few moments before Amber looked up at the vanity mirror and screamed. Although distorted, by rivulets of water, Jack's message remained on the fogged over mirror, I WANT YOU AMBER. Amber ran from the room. She'd lost Jack; she was in danger of loosing her son and now felt her might be loosing her mind too. She'd never been to a shrink and the thought scared the hell out of her. She was still a bundle of nerves by the time the coffee was ready. Andrew had left for school and it was the only comforting thought she had. Surely, she thought, I'd really loose my mind if he were here to deal with. Caffeine may not have been the best idea, considering her state of mind but, she poured a cup of coffee and sipped on it anyway. Amber had no idea of how to even to start a search for the professional she felt she needed. The only certain thought was that she would have to be honest and confide in this person. That's when Gwen, her college friend, came to mind. Gwen had had "issues", as she called them, in the past and a weak smiled cross Amber's lips. "Gwen would know someone." She said aloud and set down her cup. Moments later Gwen answered Amber's call. "Gwen? Thank God you're home." "Yes – yes it has." "He's fine...Yeah took Jack's death hard for awhile but now he seems to be doing better, thanks for asking." "Me? Well, I – I need your help Gwen. I think I have some...Issues Gwen. Who can I trust?" Amber listened to Gwen intently, unconsciously nodding and shaking her head to questions asked by her friend. Occasionally, she replied with a yes or no but, gave out little information for Gwen's understanding. "God, I'm so sorry Gwen but I just can't explain it. You said Rodgers – Dr. Ken Rodgers, is that right?" Gwen reaffirmed the name; Amber thanked her again and, as an afterthought, invited her to lunch, in the near future. Amber knew it would never happen and she regretted having made the offer. Chapter Seven Resembling another famous doctor of his kind, Rodgers sat stroking his goatee, with crossed legs, sitting in his over stuffed office chair. With closed eyes, he listened to Amber pour out words of anger, frustration, fear and shame. Her words came out in blubbering torrents and in the end she broke down completely. Lying on the good doctors couch, Amber wailed, with hands covering her face. Her body heaved with her heavy sobbing. Rodgers waited, slowly opening his eyes. "Let it go Mrs. Stockman." He commented softly and bent to hand Amber a Kleenex. Slowly, Amber's crying died away and she chanced a look at Rodgers, seeing his offering. Her shaking hand clutched at the tissue and she quickly blew her nose. Rodgers settled back into his chair. "Would you like to continue?" "Continue what? I'm insane – what's to continue? I think my dead husband has taken over my son. I let him have sex with me for God's sake!" Amber retaliated, in anger, snapping her head around to glare at the doctor. "Mrs. Stockman, please – you are not insane. Your grief is obvious. I think you manifest that grief in your relationship with your son. You stated Andrew carries his father's looks – no?" "Yes! Andy couldn't look more like Jack if he were Jack him self. What does that have to do with anything?" "Quite simple my dear. You have never really experienced your own grief over Jack's death. Now, you see Jack in Andrew. You deny his death so completely that you are placing your son's mental health in jeopardy. Can you tell me how Andrew has been acting?" Amber's demeanor turned calm. Her gaze remained on the doctor and in an eerie, almost overly calm, voice she responded. "That's just the point. He seems normal. He has sex with me in the kitchen – as Jack did so many times and then returns a short time later wanting to know what's for breakfast. Normal, like nothing happened." Amber's voice cracked and rose slighter higher as she finished. "I suggest perhaps nothing did happen." Rodgers replied, shifting his position. "How do you feel about that?" "Are you suggesting I made it up?" "Quite the contrary, Mrs. Stockman. For you, I'm quite sure it was real. Our minds are capable of a great many strange things. Consider your deep longing for your dead husband. Do you find it so odd you might think of him in the most intimate of ways – as if he were still with you?" Amber uncrossed her legs and sat up. Staring off at the far office wall, a cruel sort of smile bent her lips and she eased her feet to the floor. "Odd, doctor? No, I suppose I wouldn't consider that odd. How odd might you consider cleaning cum off the kitchen floor when Andy walked in that morning? Perhaps I imagined that too? Perhaps it really wasn't Andy. Perhaps Jack returned from the dead to throw one last fuck in me!" Amber was screaming at the doctor with her final words. Kenneth Rodgers raised an eyebrow, as he pressed into the far side of his chair. Amber's out burst took him by surprise and, in a rare moment, he lost the ability to reply. Rodgers coughed once, looking a little uneasy and stood up. "Perhaps our session should end here. I would like you to consider what we have talked about Mrs. Stockman. I do suggest that you come back – say in three or four days, my secretary will handle the arrangements. Until then, I suggest you get some rest. Your son sounds as if he's adjusting and can take of minor things. Allow him to do so. It will give him a sense of responsibility. He needs your stability Mrs. Stockman and that won't happen if you are under constant pressure. Do you understand?" Rodgers voice sounded commanding towards the end of his parting speech. Amber could only nod. She felt tired and drain of emotion. When Amber left the office, Dr. Rodgers went immediately to his library. "There must be a case history here. When was that again...?" Amber turned off the car radio and slowly left the office parking lot. Tears formed in her eyes and she blinked them away sending the salty drops down her cheeks. With two quick swipes of her hand and a snotty sniffle, she drove off feeling no better than when she arrived. "Why? I bared my soul. I told him everything. Get some rest! Please - what a crock of shit!" She announced out aloud, not caring who saw her talking to her self. "God damn it – I know what I know! Jack has come back and Andy is involved in it." As she verbalized her convictions a thought entered her mind. She changed direction and headed towards the cemetery and Jack's grave. For a long period Amber sat in her car. She stared out over the well manicured grounds of the cemetery, looking at Jack's grave site. The earthen mound was all but gone now, new grass replacing it. Some time back, Amber had decided it unhealthy for Andrew and stopped her weekly visits. God Jack, I'm so sorry. She said mentally and finally opened the car door. The weakness she felt earlier had faded. With a deep breath, she began the short walk to Jack's grave. After a short inspection, Amber knew she was alone in the cemetery. She had no qualms about talking out loud. "Jack? Jack, I know you can hear me. I know you're here somehow – you've come back. I know you love me Jack. I love you too but, you can't do this Jack! You can't use Andy like this! He's our son for God's sake – you can't use him to have sex with me." The last words she spoke sent a shiver through her. She knew she spoke the truth. It was a sick truth but, the real truth none the less. Her knees buckled and she dropped to the ground, as tears ran down her face. "You can't – you can't." She blubbered and began to beat on the top of her husbands grave. Far off, unseen by Amber, an old couple looked in Amber's direction. "That poor woman." The wife said and shook her head in sadness. It was near dark when Amber finally left the cemetery. A single over riding thought drove her. Doctor or no doctor she would get to the bottom of this. With her mind made up, she put her car into gear and sped away, heading for home. The how escaped her but, it was no deterrent. Some forty minutes later, Amber pulled into the drive way and felt her stomach knot up. The strong resolve she'd maintained throughout her drive began to weaken. The car went silent after she pulled the key out and she remained, staring at the house she had once shared with Jack. It looked ominous now. For the briefest of moments, she thought of the movie, Amityville Horror. It was the opening of the movie that frightened her – the way they had presented the house. That evening, Amber looked her at home and felt an inner darkness flow through her. "You can't Jack." She muttered and opened the car door. Chapter Eight "Andrew? Anndy – I'm home!" She called out, immediately upon opening the front door. Amber wanted no surprises. She felt she must get to Andy before Jack did, if that were possible. Deep in her heart she felt she wouldn't stand a chance otherwise but, she had no clue as to how any of this was happening. The door closed behind her with a finality that made her jump. "Damn that movie." She cursed aloud. "Andy are you home?" She yelled out again. A muffled voice answered back. It frightened her. It didn't seem quite right for Andy. It sounded too deep but, she dismissed the thought as silly. He was obviously up stairs, in his room. The distance just made it sound odd to her and she laughed uneasily. A weak, jittery laugh, as she took off her coat. Some of Amber's determination returned. Still uncertain as to how she would approach Andy, she decided a stiff drink would help calm nerves on the edge of snapping. Her trembling hands managed to pour out a double shot of Brandy. Sighing, after a deep breath, she tipped the shot glass and started to drain it, unaware of being watched. The liquor heated her throat and as the last of the shot drained into her mouth a voice spoke behind her. A deep voice. "I love you too. I've missed your visits." Amber choked on the last of the Brandy and spit the dark brown liquid out before whirling around. Her eyes screamed what her voice failed to do. Frantically, she clutched at the bar top behind her, cowering before her son and the voice of Jack. She was too late. Andy stepped forward, with an out stretched arm, and cupped her cheek. Panic instantly gripped her, as Andy's face moved in closer. She clamped her eyes shut, feeling his warm hand on her cheek and then his lips on hers. Gentle, yet persistent, they remained until his probing tongue had prided her lips apart. Amber's protest was weak, trying to squirm from Andy's determined kiss. His tongue found hers, flicking, licking, and dancing in a deep French kiss. The kiss ended all hope of protest. There was something all too familiar about it. She relaxed and succumbed to the sexual advance and what began as a muffled scream turned into a moan. Releasing the bar, her once, unwilling arms, now slowly rose to grip her sons body. The kiss ended with something that Jack had loved to do - sucking on Amber's lower lip. As Andy withdrew, Amber's eyes opened and she searched his eyes. Jack was in there – he had to be. How else could Andy know? She thought, feeling panic, again, return. "Don't be afraid, Amber. Andy understands – we're here together. We love you." Jack's voice spoke out calmly. Had he somehow read her mind? His words brought tears to her eyes. She trembled, unable to speak, trying to fathom how any of this was possible. Following a shuddering kind of breath, Amber quickly wiped the moisture from her eyes and cheeks, just as Jack spoke again. I've missed your visits to my grave." Amber's hand went to her mouth - new shock registered on her face. "How – how in God's name..." She began and then stopped. "God, I'm so sorry Jack – I should have come more often." Amber searched the eyes of her son, speaking directly to Jack. She searched for some sign – any sign, of Jack. It was Andrew that stared back, slowly blinking, as if he were pondering her last words. The silence was unnerving. "Jack? Jack, are you there...Is it really you?" "Yeeesss." A deep voice responded and Andy's head leaned forward, finding her lips once again. This time when they parted Amber was breathless. An unholy yearning welled up inside her and she blushed. Her shocked expression was replaced by a look of wonder – amazement even. She found her self, again, speaking directly to Jack. "Does he know Jack? Does he know what he's doing?" Amber whispered in a barely audible voice, afraid of the answer. Andy nodded. "I want you – we want you Amber." Amber started to shake uncontrollably with the answer. Unable to help her self, another question entered her mind. "Please, Jack I've got to know..." She hesitated, deeply, searching the eyes of her son for any sign of her husband and the words to continue. "How much does he know? Does he know everything we used to do?" The questions came out in rush and then she held her breath, certain she knew the answer. "Yes." Jack again replied. "He is with me. He knows how to please you." "Oh God, oh my God Jack – no!" Andrew's lips curl up into a grin and his arms caught his collapsing mother. The revelation was too much – Amber fainted. Chapter Eight An hour later, Amber woke with a startled gasp, like someone breaching water after a long period beneath. Her stomach instantly knotted into a tight ball and she clamped her eyes tight against the pain. Memories raced through her mind, sending her back to the very beginning with Jack. The thrill of seeing and holding his penis for the very first time hit her. Jack had never forced anything on her but his boyish charm had worked its magic none the less. It was a time of "heavy petting", as it was known back then. In Amber's mind it was her idea. Satisfying Jack's sexual needs with her hand gave way to eager and hungry lips. What her hand could never anticipate her mouth did and she quickly became an oral junkie, with a taste for cum. Goose bumps rose on her arms as her mind flashed through the time long ago. Her minds eye captured the first time she had let Jack take off her panties. The first time his lips touched her pussy – her clit. Amber groaned. "Jesus, Andy knows all of it?" She was just sixteen then, Andrew's age. Her mind raced faster. At seventeen, she recalled pushing Jack to move on. She'd left the house, that night, without underwear – a single purpose in mind. Jack was the one. She knew he'd always be the one. Her virginity was Jack's to take. She never knew whether Jack's resistance was a ploy or real. In the end, when she had straddled his lap she was happier than she could ever remember. Jack was so gentle. In a blinding flash of pain and pleasure Amber welcomed Jack's penis inside her body. It became a physical drug. Just the thought of Jack's hard cock made her wet. As Amber relived the past days of wild, passionate, sex, Andrew was busy elsewhere in the house. Her memory eventually zeroed in on three words - one last prize. They were words she had thought many years back. She shuddered hard, increasing her stomach pangs, recalling what the words had meant. "I begged him - begged for Christ sake!" She muttered to herself, as the night flashed through her mind. In July of that year, Amber had begged Jack to fuck her in the ass. Amber clamped her hands over her face, just as a giddy, insane, sort of laugh started up. Mentally, she locked onto that distant time and how persistent she had been. Determined that Jack would have this 'one last prize' she urged and begged Jack to try and try. Several days later Amber was finally able to take Jack's penis – all of it. Her hands fell away from her face and she struggled to sit up. For the first time, she realized she was lying on her bed. A distant sound – like a water fall, penetrated her occupied mind. Slowly, she became aware of fainting – talking with Jack, no...It was Andy she was talking to. "He knows how to please you." She said aloud, repeating the last words Jack had spoken to her. A wave of nausea swept through her body. It passed quickly and Amber eased her legs and feet from the bed. The floor, feeling solid, helped in some odd way and the water fall sound ended. An eerie silence ensued. Weak, unsteady, legs slowly pushed her body up and off the bed, as she strained to pick up even the faintest of sound. There was nothing, except for the heavy beating of her heart. Her first step came with difficulty, scaring her. It took conscious effort to lift and move her foot. Gradually, she regained leg motion and slowly made her way through the bedroom. Her senses heightened and by the time she reached the doorway she was on full alert, ready to flee at the slightest provocation. "Jack? Andy?" Her call reverberated briefly in the upstairs hallway. A warm glowing light -emanating from the partially closed bathroom door, caught her eye. A single long stride brought her to the opposite side of the hall, where fear demanded she, tightly, hug against it. Her breathing was shallow, her eyes alert. She called out again with less volume, feeling more apprehensive, before moving cautiously, down the hall, toward the bathroom door. A quick glance into the room brought nothing alarming to her eyes, yet she found herself breathing rapidly, the fear increasing, as she, again, hugged the wall. Gradually, the scent of Lavender filtered from the room, bringing to life memories from the past. Steeling herself, Amber moved with cautious purpose and eased the door open, calling out for her son and then Jack. There was no answer. The mirror was fogged over, preventing her from seeing anything on the opposite side of the room. A step – two steps later, she chanced a quick look around the door and sighed with relief. She was alone. The soft glow came from a multitude of lit candles. A bath had been prepared and Amber realized it was the source of the Lavender smell. Her defensive posture began to wane. The room enveloped her with flickering light, sensual smells and warmth. She focused on the bath. It seemed to need her – call to her. Moments later, she stood naked. Try as she might, she could place no conscious effort into undressing, it seemed to just happen. As she stepped into the hot bath, the bathroom door, silently, closed behind her. Like her body, Amber's mind slowly unwound, as all thoughts of fear abated. Strangely, she never questioned the how or why to her current situation. Worse, she never once questioned who. Sensuality took over as the overriding emotion. Her eyes unfocused, as she grabbed a hair clip from the tub ledge. With a few quick hand flips, she tied her long hair back and eased down into the steaming bath water. Jack, you naughty boy – I know what your after. She thought, sighing heavily. Her eyes slowly closed. Wet, slippery, fingers found her breasts. She savored their touch. Her nipples hardened, making them easy targets for her fingers. Slowly, carefully with a purpose only she knew, she raked her finger nails over their sensitive skin. In her mind it was Jack. She shuddered hard, sending the surface bath water into a tsunami like wake. Haunting at Chimera Cove Just as the rocks that insolently stand up against the tide, and the trees that bear the brunt of a horrific fire take with them an indelible mark of their journey through time, so do other objects keep certain images with them. Absorbing history as sand collects water and then making an impression of it upon the mind of a sensitive soul only too willing to take it all in.... **** Her fingers caressed the soft, aged leather with tender consideration. As she gripped the saddle horn lightly in her hand, she smiled gently at the notion that she had grabbed him like this several times as well. Out of all of the artifacts in the beach front antique store, her attention was drawn to the old English saddle and now she stood molesting it sensually with her fingertips. She traced all of the fine lines and rubbed her leg against the scratchy cinch... Suddenly she was transported to a green meadow, the wind in her hair, her legs swept to the side thoroughly incased in a long flowing gown. She did not have the reigns; however, he held them tightly next to her, an unknown man with ruffles at his neck and a ribbon in his hair led her horse from his own. They cantered to a sparkling river where he grabbed her face roughly and kissed her hard and deep. He did not speak a word to her, he simply pulled her onto his horse, and over his lap so that her face was pressed up against his saddle, her arms draped helplessly towards the ground. He smoothed the silk fabric across her bottom as he swirled his hand lightly in circles over and over. She felt like she should know this place, this man, but other than the familiarity that she felt to him she could not name him. She felt she could not move less the images disappear so she allowed herself to dangle over his hardening lap, her breasts spilling out over the top of the baroque neckline. CRACK! His hand came down hard on her derriere and the horse reared a bit. Her heart began to pound with fear, with uncertainty, with untamed excitement. CRACK! A tightening in her chest and an impossible fire in her face and cheeks provoked a soft aching between her legs. CRACK! She bit her lip and..... "Kelsey!" Still biting her lip she jumped to face him. "You looked a million miles away, come here and look at this old couch...it's got to be Victorian." Her teeth slowly released her own plump, pink bottom lip and she fairly floated over to the green velvet sofa that her Uncle was now contemplating all too aware that the ooze in her panties threatened to smear all over her legs. She self consciously pulled at her mini skirt, could he see or smell her little secret? "Look at the curve in that arm?" He pointed ecstatically. "It's beautiful Uncle Joel, "she whispered as she knelt softly on the sofa by the arm and stroked it as one would stroke a leopard. "I've told you a thousand times! Dinner is to be ready when I get home at precisely 6 o'clock!" he lectured as he pummeled her bottom with stinging spanks in quick succession. "I..I..I'm sorry." She managed to gasp under his unrelenting barrage. "Sorry just doesn't cut it anymore young lady! Maybe you'll remember with my hand print permanently emblazoned on your pink behind?!" If it was possible he spanked faster and harder as he over enunciated the last few syllables and she was immediately embarrassed to realize that he was spanking her on her bare bottom, though something was dangling next to her legs. Her ribs were being sternly supported by a plain white corset and her hair she could feel was tumbling down her back in monstrously large curls. As her feet pressed against the plush velvet of the settee, she could feel that she wore some sort of heeled boot. Not even the heels of the boot could keep her from pitching forward from each whack of his hand and soon she was supporting herself with her own hands on the floor as her bottom lifted more and more helplessly heavenward accompanied by her shamefully dripping sex. She closed her eyes as she could feel that she would spill over any second and realized that his hand had taken a hold of her hip and that he was pressed up against her and pushing his way.... Her Uncle shook her hard, "Kelsey?! What were you thinking about?" He looked around nervously and then whispered, "For God sakes you were pressing yourself into the sofa...what are you doing?" "Oh God, um...nothing Uncle Joel...sorry." She couldn't think of any excuse, she felt like it was just better to apologize and hoped he'd forget it. She rushed off the couch and ran over and sat on a bed, an art deco piece with a fine walnut headboard. She needed somewhere to sit and fight back the building chaos in her loins. She sat for several seconds just breathing and trying to think of something else, she imagined the red, meaty woman by the door wearing a bikini, then she imagined her jumping rope naked, wiry red curls bouncing with her floppy breasts and then....that was all it took, she was completely calm and threw herself back on the bed, a silly, shit eating grin on her face as she smiled at the frowning cow who eyed her suspiciously and then stuck her tongue out at her as she walked away. "While playing off, a game of golf, I may make a play for the caddie...but when I do I don't follow through, cause my heart belongs to daddy..." she sang sweetly through half closed eyes, her feet swinging childishly behind her, feet up in the air, be-ruffled rump cheekily perched towards the ceiling, thigh high stockings each set off by a devilish little pink bow. He smiled wistfully; completely bemused by her he giggled every few words and licked the lollypop that she waved in his face. God he was handsome, she thought to herself. His chiseled cheekbones, his dimpled chin, he was like Robert Mitchum and he smelled like orange water. "If I'd invite some boy some night to dine on my favorite wine and haddie, it's just a boast cause my daddy knows that my heart belongs to daddy..." She huskily crescendo-ed as she stuck the remainder of the lolly in his mouth and kissed his chest and bit his nipples. "Little girls shouldn't sing those kinds of songs little missy..." he warned with a broad smile. In truth, Ella Fitzgerald was not allowed to be played on her phonograph at home and her father always shut the radio off when her songs came on, there was too much sensuality in her ballads, too much suggested for young girls to listen. She liked to listen to her records at her Uncle's house, he seemed to delight in her depravity. "Oh I want to warn you laddie, gee but I think you're swell..." she licked down the center of his body, stopping to fondle his belly button with the tip of her tongue," but my heart belongs to daddy..." she kissed the tip of his hardening Johnson, "oh oh oh, my daddy, " and pulled it into her candy sweet mouth, "ooh ooh cause, my daddy he treats it so well..."she sank into her own basso and sucked voraciously at his willing plaything. Though he relished her throaty singing and hungry sucking he pulled her up to his face and in mock disappointment wagged his finger in stern reprimand. "My little baby shouldn't be so naughty...Who's a naughty little baby?" he asked. She giggled and said nothing. He snapped his hand down on her ruffles, "Answer me! Who's a naughty little girl?" He walloped her a few more times, and her little white bottom, peeking innocently from behind the lace curtains, turned cotton candy pink. "Answer me little girl, who's a naughty little devil?" "Me!" She squealed with delight as she wrinkled her nose, ever the actress, and looked down at the ground to appear contrite. "Then you know what to do little girl to receive your punishment that Uncle must now give you?" he patronized with just a hint of baby talk. Without a word, she lay on her back, pointed her toes towards the ceiling and held the backs of her long legs with her sticky hands. Her head snuggled in the fluffy nest of her curly hair; she squeezed her lashes shut and waited for the first succulent blow, her cheeks hard with anticipation for the burn of his cruel but sensuously divine palms. A hard slap to her own rump brought her out of the trance. "Go wait in the car Kelsey. I've had enough with your weird behavior, this isn't funny, any of it!" Her uncle had never scolded her and had never sent her away from him so she cried as she slowly dropped her legs to the old bed mattress and swung them over the edge completely aware that most of the patrons had witnessed her little display. Angrily and in a last second attempt to get even with his strict treatment of her (she was 18 after all!) she pocketed a very expensive looking silver cigarette case, finely etched and marked with the initials EK. Once in the car she smiled bitterly at her own adeptness and stuck the cigarette case in the back pocket of her mini skirt. Her Uncle came out to the car shortly after with a confused look on his face, he didn't know what to do with her, she was acting so strangely. "Kelsey, I want you to tell me right now why you were doing all of those....queer things?!" Kelsey pouted, "I don't know." "What do you mean, you don't know? Of course you know and if you know what's good for you, you'll tell me right now." The color in his face darkened and the furrow between his brows deepened. She had never seen him like this. "I...I...oh you don't understand!" she screamed like a child. She threw open her door and leapt out meaning to storm off. But whatever is hidden in the dark usually comes to the light and the cigarette case jumped out of her back pocket and banged against his car with the clanging of a church bell. Her Uncle opened his door and walked around to the passenger side. He knelt down and picked up the stolen object and before he could say anything watched as Kelsey flew across the beach, running like she never had. He threw the case back to the ground and chased after her, even with his bad knee he easily caught her as she couldn't run very well in flip flops and indeed tripped over them several times. He dove for her legs and took her down as he used to take down quarterbacks in his high school days. He pulled her to him by the back of her skirt, pulling some of it down as he reeled her in. He said nothing, she screamed as she tried to get away but there were no words between them. He grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and half marched half yanked her to a rock over looking the sea. He pulled her over the rock, tore her panties clean off and spanked her, wailing his hand against her shrieking body. Again and again he swiped her young bottom harder and harder until he saw that his fingers were causing welts to form on her now still cheeks. Huffing and puffing he stopped briefly, he was fully aroused and could not stop the sensation welling up inside of him, and he knew he should stop, take her home and send her to her room but he couldn't control himself. The sea, the crashing waves, the young, red ass that lay across his burgeoning lap, it was seducing him into the purgatorial kingdom of incestuous lust for his sweet niece. He pushed her off his lap to the rock and crawled on top of her back. He bit each of her shoulders and lightly comforted each blistered cheek with a suddenly tender hand. She was crying but pressing into his hands and he knew from then on that he was hell bound with his niece driving the carriage. He smacked first one cheek and watched her climb the rock a bit and then the other as he stuck his tongue in her ear. She shouted in ecstasy and tried to turn her head to kiss him. Their tongues met in a clumsy clamoring, a desperate reach for each other's mouth. They wanted to be inside every possible place all at once. He stuck his trembling finger deeply between her legs and found what he knew would be there, the fountain of youth, bubbling up from the inside of a young girl, who knew very little about the world or men. He plunged himself deeper inside, relishing the wet, sweet, slick feminine fruit that she offered him. Their breaths came faster; he moved his finger from her willing vagina to her totally virgin bottom and broke that barrier with a soft penetration of swirling and gentle prodding. Prepared for bigger things she accepted his penis into her rosebud bottom and stood completely still, her face pressed into the wet, sweating rock that smelled of fish and wind as he thrust inside her bowels with a desperate animal need. As he pumped in and out of her sweet derriere he swathed his hand around her breasts, he kneaded them, he pinched them and with the other hand he fingered her flooded vagina until a moment when time and ocean and gulls froze in a continuum that reversed silently to their dimension, the world held its breath as they were released from the bonds of restraint and they came together... for each other. Later he would pull her skirt down protectively over her hand printed bottom and stroke her back and kiss her hair and hold her hand as they walked back to the car. The waves continued their roll, carving out the seawall, the wind continued its toll on the grasses that grew thankfully where they could and the silver case would sit in a sandy treasure box waiting to be discovered again by another sensitive soul, only too willing to take it all in...