30 comments/ 30007 views/ 2 favorites The Echo By: extempore Since the wife has no active part in this story, there is reason not to have it in Loving Wives. But, since retribution is such a major theme in this category, it does seem to fit here. It was a cold Tuesday evening in mid November and Bruce Finley was still at his office. He was working on a contract that had to be done by Friday. Finley seldom procrastinated and he was confident he could have it finished as early as the next morning. He neatly stacked the files he'd used and slipped them into the modern looking mahogany cabinet, behind his desk chair. He then locked it. Finley was in his late thirties, fairly tall – almost six foot two – and slim. He had a pale, somewhat angular face. He pulled on his suit coat, then his cashmere topcoat. His wardrobe was a bit more expensive that his income could justify. He ran a comb through his straight, thinning blond hair and headed out the door. As he took the elevator to his parking level he thought about his kids, both middle-schoolers, and his wife. For weeks Adam and Julia had given him happier thoughts than his wife, Bridget. God, she'd been such bitch lately, he muttered to himself. He thought about the sexy blonde waiting for him at the Hilton, and his mood brightened. He smiled in anticipation. He remembered how hot she'd been the week before. She was tall, with good legs and great tits. She was a few years older than him, but God she was hot! He'd never had blow jobs like hers . . . she really got into it. Jesus, did she have a hot pussy, she could almost squeeze him off without him moving. But then, what fun would that be? He chuckled softly to himself as he headed down the dimly lit, eighty foot parking ramp to level four, looking forward to the coming two hours in Suite 606. He strolled leisurely towards his car, through the shadows of the ramp. His eyes turned downwards and his mind was far away. It's just as well Bruce Finley wasn't paying attention. Awareness would not have helped him. It would have only added a few seconds of needless panic before his happy, every-day life, would be rocked to its core. "Unnngghh!" he grunted, as something smashed him viciously between his right cheekbone and nose, jolting his head violently to his left,. He felt the sickening snap in his nose. He reeled further to his left, away from a large concrete support pillar. Clinging to a glimmer of awareness, he felt himself being spun around and his back slammed violently into that same pillar. The next blow hammered into his solar plexus. The impact stunned him and his mouth fell open as if in a gasp . . . if he only could gasp! He couldn't breathe! Doubly shocked now, from the blow to his head and his suddenly paralyzed breathing apparatus, he had no chance to ward off the fierce kick launched upward into his crotch. The blinding explosion of pain hurled him into the darkness. He never felt the follow-up punch, the one that battered his other cheekbone and split the outer part of his eyebrow to the tune of, say . . . four stitches? Somehow this mayhem overwhelmed him, without giving him a clue to his attacker's identity. He'd seen only a hazy image of his tormenter. He could vaguely make out the shape of a man a bit shorter, but broader, than he was. His first hint of consciousness was the pain. He hurt everywhere and he moaned softly. He couldn't hear anything. Gradually he became aware of noises. He heard faint traffic sounds in the distance. He was stuck there in limbo for another twenty seconds or so, feeling the dank cold of the concrete floor, when he felt himself being prodded by the toe of a boot. He groaned again and felt more prodding, several sharp pokes in a row. He moaned in protest. "Buddy!" Finley began to stir a bit and he could vaguely hear the voice of his assailant. "Hey buddy, you don't look so good." He looked like shit and would soon look worse. He felt it too. His aching testicles swelled as he shivered helplessly on the floor. "Ya feelin better?" That damn voice again—who was it? He wasn't feeling better, aside from the whole consciousness thing. He felt the skin on his face tighten. It would swell like a balloon in ten minutes. By the next morning it would be an ugly purple mass, and the colors would soon morph into one more-or-less disgusting shade after another. "Aahhh . . . your nose looks a little crooked. That's not good. You might want someone to take a look at it." Bruce Finley's senses and brain were beginning to connect with reality, the reality that had turned so terribly wrong over the preceding three minutes. He opened his eyes when he felt a warm trickle on his hand. He thought it was red. Just how red, he couldn't tell in the dim light. The drips were falling slowly but, from the amount of blood on his hand and on the dirty floor, it must have bled a lot when he went down. He weakly wiped the black cashmere sleeve of his coat across his nose and bleeding eye brow. "Bruce!" That voice was followed by a few seconds interval, then "Bruce, wake up sleepyhead. We need to talk." Funny, the voice didn't sound hostile. Now it sounded light and airy, like someone encouraging him. Encouraging him to do what? "Whaa, wha-dya wan?" It would take three more minutes before he could speak coherently. His stomach suddenly revolted and he began to vomit. While he wretched, repeatedly, almost nothing came out. That's right, he'd skipped lunch. Finley was laying on his side but could raise his head. He flinched, bringing his forearms up in front of his face when he saw his attacker step towards him. The man roughly slapped his arms away and, with his two gloved hands grabbing Finley's coat, yanked him to a sitting position against the pillar. "Hey asshole! Do you know who I am? What's my name, Finley?" His voice was no longer light and airy. It was harsh, loud and contemptuous. Finley's very name sounded disgusting and foul. Hearing his own name again finally startled him. He was not just some nameless victim. Knowing that he, personally, was the target of this brutality spun his mind into another whirl of confusion. Why? His focus returned when he felt the sharp slap, delivered by his tormentor's right hand. He raised his sleeve again to wipe at the blood dripping down his cheek. "Bruce! Bruce! Wake up you fucking weasel! Can you hear me?" The voice was again harsh and insistent. The man stared at his victim with coldly focused attention. He knew Finely was an okay lawyer for an decent law firm in the city. He made good, but not great, money and had a family. He wasn't a really bad guy. He did have an outsized sense of entitlement. As with most attorneys, it came to him, as if a part of his diploma, upon graduation from law school. And, of course, he cheated on his wife. "Bruce! Do . . . You . . . Know . . . Who . . . I Am!" The words came out slowly, as if directed at a small child. The tone grated in Finley's head. Finley approached full, if painful, awareness. With effort, he directed his attention to the man's face. He was a normal looking guy, a bit better looking than average, square-jawed, with wavy, dark brown hair and eyebrows. His eyes looked dark, but then they were in badly lit parking garage. He was six feet or so and, even covered by the wool jacket he wore, he looked very athletic and powerful. Finley had never seen him before in his life. "No. No, I don't think . . . who are you?" His words were still slow and slurred. "Are you sure, Bruce. Are you sure you've never seen me before . . . not even in a picture?" The stranger's look was angry and impatient. "I don't think so. No, I haven't seen you before." He spoke more clearly this time. He looked at the him, desperately trying find some association, some reason to remember him. The man shook his head in exasperation, perhaps disbelief. "That's too bad Bruce. If someone's going to do something like this to you . . . ," he gave a vague wave of his hand towards Finley, indicating his general condition. "If you're going to get the shit kicked out of you, you should at least know WHY! Don't you think?" Finley looked dumbly at the man, not knowing what to say. He watched him pace back and forth for a minute or so. His olive skin, a bit tanned, was far from pale, but his grim expression darkened him even more. "BRUCE!" He suddenly roared Finley's name at his cowering victim. The ramp was then silent. "No echo in here tonight, is there Bruce?" He paced some more, restless as a hungry predator. "There are actions, things that you do that cause echoes, Bruce." He virtually spit out Finley's name. "For good or ill, they will bounce back at you. TONIGHT is your echo, Bruce. I AM your echo and I AM enjoying it." "Think, Bruce. Think for a moment, about why someone would want to do this to you. Can you think of any reason? Have you done something bad at work . . . something that really pissed someone off. Is that it?" "No, no, nothing at work. . . no . . . nothing there." Every word came with difficulty, the chaos in his brain again slowing his speech. "Really Bruce?" His voice was low and rough. "There isn't some guy out there who thinks you fucked up his case? Are you sure?" "No . . . . No." Finley mumbled and shook his head "Well," his interrogator paced in frustration for a good twenty seconds, "how about your wife? Do you think Bridget could be mad enough at you to hire me? Would she pay me to deliver this little message?" "Bridget, how do you know . . .?" His question died in mid air. He was momentarily silent under the blank stare of this stranger. He resumed haltingly. "She gets mad sometimes," he offered cautiously, "but she'd never do this. Besides, I haven't. . ." His voice trailed off into nothing. The man chuckled softly, as if in sympathy with his victim. "No, I don't think Bridget would hire anyone to do anything like this. I agree with you. She is a real bitch though, isn't she? You almost have my sympathies. Dealing with her must be a real chore, a real pain in the ass." "You look confused, Bruce. You know, I really know a lot about you and your family. Lovely kids, by the way, you should be proud of them. But, I suppose you already know that, don't you?" The man took a deep breath, paced a few steps, then returned to stand directly in front of him. He looked down at Bruce in annoyance. "Well, Bruce. It's not your job and it's not your wife. What have you done that could piss someone off this much? There must be something? What is it, Bruce, that could make someone this fucking FURIOUS with you?" The tumblers in Bruce Finley's muddled brain finally fell into place. "Oh, shit!" he whispered, "Carrie. It's Carrie . . ." His heart began to race as he stared at the man who held him at his mercy. "You're Jack Hogan." Hogan stared intently at Finley, shaking his head in wonder. "I hate to say it Bruce, but you don't seem too smart. Did you really think it was smart to fuck another guy's wife, morality and such aside, without knowing who her husband was and what he might do, what he might be capable of, when he found out? Did you really?" He smiled with malice as he spoke. "No, you didn't think at all. Did you Bruce?" "By the way, how long has your little sex-athon with my wife been going on? I'm just curious. I'm sure I could manage good guess, but humor me." Hogan's last few words were menacingly calm. "Only a couple of months . . . in early September. Yeah, no earlier than that." Finley spoke softly, as if that would somehow lessen his offense. "Hmm . . ." Hogan mused, "I guess we did nail it down to the beginning. I just wanted to make sure about that. So, you met my wife for sex over a dozen times. . . over a dozen times, Bruce. The few thumps I gave you somehow don't seem quite enough, given the enjoyment you had with MY wife. Do they?" Hogan was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "No, it really isn't enough. I think this will have some further implications for you, Bruce. I really do." Finley felt his innards sink. "You do know that Hogan Industries does half its legal work through your firm, don't you? I know we're one of Hamilton-Ross' three biggest clients. I'm sure you know that too." Hogan seemed lost in thought for a few moments. "You're going to leave your firm Bruce. I'm sure you can understand why. Can't you Bruce?" Finley's stomach churned again and he sagged lower against the unyielding pillar. "If you haven't left gracefully by the end of January, I'll find a way that's not so graceful." The threat was out there and Finley had no doubt what would happen, no doubt that he could easily follow through with it. "It might be a good idea to find a firm out of the city. It shouldn't be too bad. I hear you're a decent lawyer, you'll get a good reference." Hogan watched Finley as he absorbed Hogan's words. "It'll cost you a few years, to get back to where you are now, that is. But then, that's the price of ending another man's marriage. Isn't it Bruce?" Finley looked up at Hogan but didn't speak. "The reason I don't want you nearby, Bruce, is for your own protection. You see, I'm feeling very vindictive right now. I really don't like feeling that way. It's just not healthy, for either of us. But if you move, Bruce, then temptation will be out of sight. I won't be tempted to do anything drastic to ease the hurt that the next year or two will surely bring. I don't like being that kind of guy, Bruce. I'm sure you will appreciate that. Won't you?" Abruptly, Jack Hogan took in a deep cleansing breath, as if preparing for meditation. "Bruce, I'm sorry we had to meet like this but it had to be done, from my point of view of course. Let me explain what's going to happen." Finley sat quietly, aching and feeling hopeless about his future, hardly able to listen as Hogan spoke. He glanced upward as Hogan continued. "You are going home and, regardless of how you explain this evening and your . . . unfortunate appearance, we have never met. You will go on with your life, carrying this little memory with you, of course. Nothing more will happen to you, not from me at least, for your little dalliance with my wife." Hogan paced back and forth for a few moments, looking at his victim. "But Bruce, don't think too much about this evening. Don't be tempted to call the police. That would be a serious error," He was speaking softly by then, like a patient teacher to a student. "and you've seen how I deal with serious errors." "There will be no physical evidence. In thirty minutes, everything I'm wearing will be ashes. I'll have no marks on me. Even my knuckles won't be bruised – padded gloves you see. I will have an alibi and a set of excellent pictures of your last few episodes with my loving wife." Hogan seemed calmer. He spoke softly and self assuredly, as he did each day at his office. Finley sat numbly, thinking about the veiled threat of those pictures. Hogan had thought about sending the evidence to Finley's wife but decided not to. She would have enough difficult questions for him when he got home. Hogan thought about Finley's kids. They would handle a divorce better when they were out of high school. He was thankful his own kids were off at college. He could deal with that later. Hogan went on. "We've established that your wife is a bitch." He smiled at Finley as he said it. "I can't imagine what she'd do if confronted with the explicit, hi-def, in the act PROOF of your infidelity. It would be frightening." Hogan's grin chilled him. "If I have my facts straight, and I do, she also has more money than you have. You have plenty of reasons to stay quiet." Finley looked at him numbly. Any thoughts of revenge were long gone. They'd never even started. "One final thing and our evening will be complete." Hogan glanced at his watch. "You need to get a move on, to get to the Hilton. You don't want to be late for my wife, do you?" "What . . . why would I see . . .?" Finley looked shocked and bewildered. "You are going to meet my soon-to-be former wife, as scheduled. She will see what I've done to you, though you won't speak a word of that to her. Will you Bruce? You won't be staying long, however. You will deliver a message. A very important message, for her at least. First, you will tell her you are never going to see her again. You are going to call her a cunt—she hates that word—and a whore. Then you will tell her that you are sorry you ever met her. I would guess that, by now, it's the truth. Isn't it Bruce?" Finley didn't respond. "Before you leave her," Hogan continued, "you will give her these." He handed Finley a large envelope, that held three eight by ten photos of Finley and Hogan's wife having sex, and a smaller envelope filled to a one- half inch thickness. He then handed him a passport, motioning for Finley to put both items in the larger envelope. "There is some cash and a credit card in the envelope, as well as the passport. There's also a ticket to Mexico City." Hogan smiled to himself, remembering how much his wife disliked Mexico. "It takes off at eleven tonight. Tell her she no longer has a husband. Tell her she no longer has a family. She also has no money, other than what's in that envelope." Hogan paused for a moment, as if unsure about what he should say next. Finally he spoke. "Tell her that, if she is not on that plane, Angelo will pay her a visit. Make sure she hears that. She will understand. This time I mean it. And," Hogan paused for a few moments, "tell her not to come back, ever." Hogan took a couple of deep breaths, shedding the tension of the previous twenty minutes. "Finley, do exactly what I said. Remember, I'll be watching." he said, staring at the still sitting attorney. "If I ever have reason to see you again . . ." Hogan paused briefly. ". . . well, you don't really want to know." He spoke those final words sadly, as if he truly feared the prospect of a second meeting. With that, Hogan turned and strode briskly up the ramp to the elevator. He pushed the button. It opened immediately. He gave a quick glance at Finley as the door began to close. Finley watched him leave, as he sat leaning against the pillar. A minute later he struggled to his feet and staggered towards his car. He would perform his tasks quickly and exactly as directed. He was cold and tired, and anxious to go home. The Echo of Fear I was trying to get out the mall and having a very difficult time. I knew I shouldn’t have come today. It was the Christmas rush after all. It seemed like everyone in North America had come shopping today, I found myself diving through narrow crack, slipping under arms, between couples, and dancing around to avoid small children, all while holding half a dozen bags of Christmas presents. I finally made it out into the parking garage and attempted to regain my composure. As I searched for my car I thought about the upcoming holiday. I was twenty-five years old, single, and a virgin. Family gatherings for me were a form of torture. Six hours of nagging from everyone in my family to settle down, get married, and have a family. I could already hear what my aunt would say. She would tell me what an attractive girl I was, that I should easily be able to get a man. Glancing at my reflection in a car window I wondered why I wasn’t married. It’s not like I was ugly. I was short yeah, but petite girls were a favorite of most men. I was short and slim with beautiful 34 C breasts, a delectable body, long legs, a face like an angel, sky blue eyes, and a tawny mane of dark blonde curls that fell nearly to my waist. I was every guy’s fantasy, and yet they never looked at me. My sister Rachel said it was because I scared them away with my looks. I was dressed warmly for winter so my body, no matter how lovely, was hard to see at the moment. I wore an oversized blue sweater over denim jeans and hiking boots with a heavy wool scarf, gloves, and a trench coat. Underneath I was dressed sexy though. I loved sexy underwear. Today I was wearing a red sparkly bra and matching g-string panties that glittered in the dim light of my room. I anxiously sought the day when I would put them to good use. I had no idea that today was the day. From the shadows, a man was watching me. I didn’t know he was there until I saw the glow of his cigarette. I stopped because he was in front of me and took a step backward wondering what to do. The garage was empty, not another soul around. Slowly he stepped out of the shadows and revealed himself. He was a tall muscular man with short brown hair and a cruel smile. I couldn’t see his eyes because he was wearing sunglasses. He had a goatee and was dressed warmly for the harsh winter weather. He took a step towards me and pulled off his sunglasses. His eyes were green, a vivid sparkling green and I inwardly thought that he was very handsome. He offered to help me with my bags. Cautiously, I handed two of them over and led the way to my car. I was very aware of his presence behind me. Stop being paranoid! I chided myself. He’s just a nice man. But I would realize soon enough that my fear was warranted. I opened my trunk and gently set the bags inside, as did he. I smiled and offered my thanks and he asked for my phone number. I gave him one of my business cards and he studied it carefully. He said that Alicia was a very sexy name and I thanked him nervously. Then he stepped closer, nearly pinning me against the car and asked if he could kiss me. Before I could respond he had his lips against mine and was holding me firmly against the car. I struggled for my freedom, overwhelmed by his boldness as he slipped a hand up to cup my breast. I drew back and slapped him hard. How dare he? Angry he slapped me back which sent me reeling against the car and he was on me fighting with the button on my jeans. I kicked at him but to no avail, I could taste my own blood. The man was at least twice my size and there was little I could do as he tore my jeans down around my knees. He smiled at my underwear and reached under my sweater to play with my breasts. I raked at his face and put a good scratch down the side, he swore and slapped me again, my vision swam. He was very strong. Before I could think he had me twisted onto my belly across the trunk and was jerking my underwear down. I pleaded with him to stop but all I got in response was a hard slap to the ass and him hissing at me to be quiet or he would put his socks in my mouth. Well I really didn’t want to taste his feet so I just shut my mouth and tried to wriggle away across the trunk. He put a hand on each of my hips and dragged me back towards him, I could feel his engorged cock against my back and I turned onto my side, fighting him. That’s when I saw his penis. It was a monster of a cock, nearly eleven inches long and at least two inches wide, it curled up wickedly against his belly and throbbed with life. Now on my side he caught my flailing feet and ripped off my jeans over my boots. He propped my leg over his shoulder and ran his fingers across my clit. I shuddered at his touch never having felt anything so powerful. He slipped a finger inside of me and seemed surprised at something. He laughed and said he was going to split my cherry wide open and that he was surprised that a pretty bitch like me was still a virgin. He asked if I was a lesbian. Wide eyed I tried to escape again but he had a firm hold on me. He held my leg over his shoulder and pressed his huge cock against my pussy. I was too tight for him to get in and he swore pressing harder. I cried out from the burning pain begging him to stop and then with a tear he ripped inside me, expanding me in a way I had never imagined was possible. He stretched out my virgin cunt ripping through my cherry and slammed against my cervix. I cried out from the horrible pain and felt my tears on my cheeks. Holding me leg tight he pounded me with his massive cock sliding in and out very fast moaning about how tight I was. I wept and begged him to stop but he wasn’t listening. He rolled me onto my back and withdrew from me rubbing his throbbing swollen head against my clit. I shivered and tried to back away but he had me held fast. He kneeled and started licking my pussy. I had never felt anything like it. Slowly he closed his mouth over my clit and sucked gently on it. I felt an involuntary moan rise to my lips as I shuddered, quivering beneath him. Again and again he brought me to earth shattering orgasm until I longed for the feel of thick cock in me. Taking each of my legs over his arms he entered me again and started fucking me, holding me tight against his hips so I felt every inch of his delectable manhood. I started moaning and writhing against him, reaching down to rub my aching clitoris, I cried out as I came and he laughed as he pumped. Then he pulled out and ordered me to suck his cock. Horror washed over me. I had rarely even seen a penis, let alone put one in my mouth. He warned me that if I bit he would kill me. Slowly I dropped to my knees and took his cock tentatively into my mouth. It throbbed like a living thing and he moaned as I began to suck it. Uncertainly, I wrapped my tongue around his shaft and began to jerk him off at the same time. He groaned and then ordered me onto me to bend over and hold onto the car. I did, uncertain what he was going to do. He reached under and lifted my thighs holding me open and slipped back into me. Holding my hips he started slamming in and out then reached around and began rubbing my clit. I cried out as I came and he pumped harder and faster keeping tempo with how fast he was rubbing me. I shuddered under him and started slamming back to meet his thrusts. He reached up under my sweater clutching my breast as he fucked me and that made him fuck even harder. I cried out in ecstasy rubbing my own breast now with one hand and bracing myself with the other. Suddenly he froze thrusting his cock deep inside of me and began cumming. He rocked gently back and forth as he came and I heard myself moaning as I trembled. We stayed that way for a long time and then gently he pulled out of me and I felt the liquid pouring down my legs. He redressed himself and then handed me his card. He said he would be sure to give me a call. Watching him walk away, I numbly got dressed and drove home to wait for his phone call. I couldn’t wait to see him again. The Eclipse "Honey, come outside and see." My mom had nudged me awake. The clock said 2:47am on an August night only weeks before starting college. I remembered there was supposed to be an eclipse I wanted to see, and pushed back the covers. Following her to the front door, I saw she was wearing a long tee shirt, her legs bare and feet shoeless. Quietly, she opened the door and we stepped onto the front porch. The thought of going outside wearing only boxer shorts nearly stopped me, but the night air felt so good, so soothing, and it was the middle of the night and no one would see me. Except mom. The weather, in fact, was more than soothing. The sky was nearly overcast, the clouds rushing by. A strong tropical breeze, pregnant with moisture, neither warm nor cool, rushed past us. It fluttered mom's tee shirt, briefly showing the outlines of her breasts. It was the kind of breeze that flows right through you, filling you with an energy, a strength you never thought you had. "We might not see it," she whispered. There was no sign of life on the street. Every house was dark, and not a single car drove past. We moved to the porch rail and leaned out, scanning the sky. Fleeting glimpses of a star or two between clouds failed to reveal the moon, but we still watched and waited. Mom moved closer to me. "It's a little chilly," she said, slipping her arm around my waist. It felt nice, her body was soft against me. "Aren't you cold dressed like that?" she said. She held me close, her hand resting firmly on my hip giving me a feeling of comfort. I did feel a shiver, but not from the temperature. The night made me feel like anything could happen. I put my arm around her waist and drew her to me. Her breast gently touched my bare chest. The inward curve above her hip felt soft, and I caressed it. Her hand moved up to my side, gently stroking, then her fingers stopped at the top of my shorts. I was glad she was gazing up at the sky, or she would see my growing erection. The absurdity and impossibility of the situation started to hit me -- my mother and I were standing half naked on the front porch, in a half embrace -- yet no one could see us. I felt a private thrill at flaunting a deep taboo. She turned toward me slightly, pressing her breast more into my side. I ran my hand up her back and felt her tension disappear. "Mmm, that feels good," she murmured. As I caressed her, she turned more toward me, and I felt her hand slip lower onto my ass. It seemed like an innocent touch at first, then she gave a slight squeeze. I had been wanting to slide my hand down over her bottom and feel its round firmness, so I slowly did. As my fingers neared the hem of her night shirt, her hand clenched my butt cheek a little harder. She still gazed upward, my erection safely out of view. I was relieved, but at the same time I couldn't wait for her to see it and find out what would happen. "I don't think we're going to see the eclipse tonight," she whispered. "Do you want to go in?" I thought of everyone else asleep in the house, and thought what we were doing would end if we went inside. "No, it's nice out here. I'd like to stay here." "Good, I didn't want to go in yet either," she said. "You feel so good, keep holding me. The night feels so invigorating. But I think it's getting chillier." She turned toward me, nearly facing me. I reached my other hand around to fully embrace her, holding her close, her breasts pressing through her thin night shirt against my bare chest. She was warm and comforting. My erection touched her hip, and I prayed she didn't notice. But she pressed her body closer, almost grinding it against my cock, and I knew she was aware. But more than that, she accepted it. She even seemed to like it. I felt her hand move down my back and again hesitate at the top of my shorts, but only for a moment. Her warm soft fingers slid beneath the fabric and down across my cheek. With that hand, she pulled me into her and a surge of adrenalin almost made me dizzy. I glanced up and down the street once more, making sure no one was looking. And I also thought that if anyone did see us, the hour of the night would make them not believe what they saw. A strong gust of wind tossed her hair and ran through mine. "You look so beautiful," I whispered. She smiled. "Everything is beautiful tonight." I moved my hand lower and found the hem of her nightshirt. My fingers went beyond it, touching forbidden flesh, then I moved them back up and pushed aside the cloth. She lay her head against my chest and I cupped her bottom in my hand. It was soft, cool, and firm. She took in a deep breath as I squeezed. I wanted her. I didn't care that she was my mother. She didn't seem to care that I was her son. Moving back slightly, she bit her lower lip and leaned against the porch rail. In the soft glow of the street lights she looked so much younger, almost like a girl my own age. Such an innocent look in her eyes, like it was her first time with a boy. I stepped closer, and couldn't take my eyes off hers. Mom's face was so beautiful, her body so warm and tender, I leaned down to kiss her. She tilted her head up and her lips met mine. We kissed like teenagers -- I was one of course, eighteen, but Mom was thirty something. I wondered what was going through her mind as our bodies ground against each other. Was she pretending I was someone else? Or was she loving me for who I was? Was she so depraved, perverted; and was I too? All I knew for sure was her kiss was the most passionate and exciting thing I had ever felt. With a soft smack she ended it, and moved her hands around to my front, caressing my chest, then my stomach. And then through my shorts her hand reached my erection. I closed my eyes and my breathing became shallow. I felt her pull my cock through the fly of my shorts, and it was free and exposed to the breeze. Exposed to Mom's eyes. She grabbed the bottom of her nightshirt and pulled it up about an inch. I put my hands on her hips, moving them upward against her bare flesh, letting her shirt ride up to expose her bush. She put her hands over mine and guided them up her belly and soon I was holding Mom's breasts in my hands. Like her bottom, they were cool and soft. Her nipples were hard. She pulled me toward her and I felt my erection pressing against her belly, flesh against flesh. Her hand reached down and guided it toward her vulva. I felt it brush against her bush, then felt warm, soft, wetness. Then the firmness of her flesh gave way and I was inside of her. We held each other tight, moving our bodies against each other, kissing ravenously. She softly whimpered as we moved, and I started to feel something rising up inside me. Then she held her breath, her eyes closed almost as if in pain, but her mouth forming an "O" shape. So this is what a woman looks like in an orgasm, I thought. At that moment, I began to cum. Warm bolts of energy flowed through my erection and up into my mother's body. We held each other as the tropical breeze flowed through us. The erotic sensation of the warmth and comfort of her body against mine, and the thrill of conquering a taboo gave me a feeling of excitement. I didn't want the night to end, but knew it had to. "Shall we go to bed?" she said. "I wish I could go to bed with you." "Me, too. Maybe some day we'll get the chance." "At the next eclipse?" I said. "Yes. The next eclipse." The Ecstacy He comes to me in the darkness. I wait shaking as I hear him, his rustlings a mystery. As he passes in front of the window I see his silouhette, big and dark. My breathing shallows as I lie still in anticipation of his touch. He draws back the covers and the black air feels chill on my skin. This is what I need. Forbidden and heated in the cold of night. I tremble as I turn to his embrace, my guide, my teacher, my lover. His strong arms enfold my lithe young body and his lips find mine unerringly in the dark. He rouses at the touch of my skin against his, soft and warm against the wiry hardness of him. When his hands cup my aching breasts, he squeezes them gently and tells me how he loves their round firmness. His fingers tweak my pink nipples sending ripples of desire through me. Against my lips he moans and I press to him. He drags his lips upwards, kissing the tip of my nose.. my brow between my eyes. His kisses delicately cover my eyelids, fluttering down my temples to my ear. He nuzzles and sucks the lobe gently and his hand holds my head against his lips, tangled in my long hair. I feel him twitch against my thigh, his response firing the burner inside me. My need centred within my abdomen, heat radiating intensely through my feminine core. Instinctively I move my hips and part my thighs. His chuckle drags me back for a moment, "Not yet, no, not yet!" His mouth opening over mine, his sinuous tongue snaking past my teeth. The tip tickles my palate. I suck it. Tasting, wanting to feel him. He senses my need and rolls me onto my back. With his knee he nudges mine apart.. I lie subdued beneath him, wanting his mastery. Luxuriating in his attentions, stretching catlike I open for him. He kneels between my legs. His head lowers to my breast. Gooseflesh as his breath flows against me. Gasping as I feel his teeth squeeze my hardened, pink nipple. He tugs and pulls it, stretching the sensitive end. Mercilessly he nips. Forcing my cry of shocked pain. Again, he laughs. I blink back stinging tears, feeling pleasure replace the sting as his mouth suckles me. One nipple, the other. Countless moments in bliss. His mouth and fingers playing my breasts. A symphony of desire builds as his tongue traces a delicate filigree over the muscled surface of my flat tummy. Lower he wanders, his fingers digging into my hips, at last lifting me. Held up to his questing mouth, shoulders pinned to the bed under my own weight as he drinks. My legs spread and hanging in space unsupported. My arms splayed to either side as he begins to devour me. My cunt a feast. He pauses and I hear his desire, "Cum for me." Reduced to an ember of wanton lust I burst out for him to suck my clit. How I need him! Like a virtuouso he draws the music of passion from me. I feel incapable of nothing less than complete surrender to his composing. His tongue manipulates each fold of me. The blood singing through my vessels as he thrusts into me and slowly twirls it around my hard nub. He licks. That tongue of his dragging along the crack of my ass, pressing tauntingly across the nerves of my asshole, lewdly hinting of how wonderful it would feel to have it within. My fingers tear at the sheets. My nails leaving imprints in my palms. His lick proceeds, the sensitive separator pulsing as he laps hungrily at sweet, flowing pussy juices. The rasping surface delves shallowly into my musky hole and at last drags wetly over my swollen clit. Again and again. The crescendo crashes around me as he orchestrates each section. Encouraging the performance. I weep. The beauty of feeling intensely painful. He sees. He cries out in agony at my grief, wanting to bring me the marvel of sensation once again. He raises me to cradle my shaking form in his gentle arms. I whisper, "Now?" I feel his hardness against my hip. I smile now knowing my power. Need cracks his voice, weakens his arms. "Now," his whisper breathes against my neck, "Yes, now my little love." I lever myself up onto my knees.. I tug his arm to invite him. He moves and prostrates himself beneath me. I straddle his hips and rest my head against his back. My tears wet on our skin. I lift my cheek and turn, licking the salty drop. My tongue trails across his shoulder blade to his spine. He rolls beneath me and I lift up to allow his erection room to nestle between us, hard against my belly. He pulls me up along his body. Our lips meeting in hunger. Starving for his love, to be his possession. His cock, fully erect, stands along my crease. I feel it hot against my slick wetness. It nestles within the open lipped kiss of my sex. I gasp out his name and bring my feet up at his sides. Squatting over his pelvis, I grasp his turgid length. His bulk barely contained in my fist. His length a pulsing, veined tower standing tall and waiting for my hot, wet night to engulf it. I bring it to my opening my slowly undulating hips dragging my wet desire across the round knob of his shaft. He bumps against my clit and I am reminded how good this will feel. Slowly, I lower onto him. He breaks open my lips and presses to my tight opening. Squeezing him as I tug him, I want him inside so badly. My hips gyrate. I feel his cock caress and dilate me. His shaft moves deeper as I move to my knees. Gravity doing what my movements cannot. I feel him slide as deep as my body will allow. His hands on my hips press me down further still, stretching, hurting. With my cry of pain he lifts me with his hands. The pleasure so intense we tremble. He pulls me onto him as he thrusts. His cock seems to seek my soul along with my sex. My existence centred on this fuck. The smell of my juices on his face, the taste of his kisses, the colours exploding behind my eyelids filling my night with visions the sound of our joining wet, smacking fuck, the touch of his shaft filling every void within me, all enfold me. My orgasm expands, growing to bursting. I scream as I release hot, wet splashes onto him. He allows me to collapse forward onto his chest. His hands stroke my tightly strung muscles still twitching. I return to his voice murmuring into the top of my head. "Hush now. Now for me." his words a litany, rhythmic, my heart seems to beat with his. My breathing his breathing. He drops his hands to cup my ass and starts to fuck me with long, slow strokes. Now. Now for me. I move with him his hands guiding my hips. Almost out of me and then plunging in. I sit up and ride him. Knowing his orgasm nears as fast as mine is. Slowly I lean back. Resting my hands on his thighs as my hair falls against his skin. His cock bends and with the right rock of my hips I feel him on my G spot. I gasp as he again grabs my ass and pulls me hard on to him. The breath leaves him almost explosively as he sends his hot ejaculate into my womb. I clench around him. Not stopping, my own so close. With another grind of my hips I join him in his pleasured agony. In unison we shout into the darkness.. Now! For me! Now! The Ecstasy of the Lonely Traveller Your travels have taken you to a small, quaint village in a remote province. Upon locating the inn where you would be spending the night, you smile. The online brochure did no justice in depicting the glorious splendor of this Victorian era building. You ascend the old wooden steps to your room on the second floor. When you enter, you are quite taken by the vintage furnishings, including the four-poster bed, which faces French doors leading to the balcony. Opening the doors, you step out onto the balcony and deeply breath in the fresh air. Looking out, you admire the view of the sun setting on the hills in the distance. Immediately behind the Inn, you spy an open field leading to a dark and seemingly mysterious forest. One final warm ray of setting sun dances across the field and disappears into the forest. You begin to turn back toward your room when you feel a tiny tingle run down your spine. Looking back toward the field and forest, you can see nothing but flickering shadows. Exhausted from your trip, you wash up and change for bed. Being an unusually warm night, you decide to just wear a t-shirt. Lying in bed, you realize that sleep is not coming as quickly as you would like. You need to relax, somehow. 'I could really use a good orgasm right now. That would relax me,' you laugh to yourself. Hmmmm....you ponder, as then you begin to caress your breasts with your left hand, bringing each nipple to attention. Your right hand begins to massage your vagina by running your fingers over your silk panties. Soon, your panties are soaking wet and your pussy is aching for the touch of your fingers. Slipping off your panties, you continue to stroke yourself, delighting in the slippery slickness. Fingering your clit faster and faster while sliding a finger deep inside, your heart races and you arch your back in eager anticipation of your orgasm. You shudder and clamp your legs around your hand as you gasp for air, not wanting to cry out lest the other guests hear you. Once you have caught your breath, you pull the covers around you and drift off into a blissful slumber. BAM BAM BAM!!! You are startled awake by the French doors blowing open and crashing against the wall. It is 3 AM. Getting up to close and latch the doors, you find yourself drawn to the balcony. 'Must be a storm brewing,' you think. The wind has really picked up. You find it an odd sort of wind. It is both cool, yet surprisingly warm at the same time. Then you notice that there isn't a cloud in the moonlit sky. The field glows in the moonlight. You are about to head back inside when you hear a distant howling. The wind? Looking past the field toward the darkened forest, you see a mysterious fog forming. Suddenly, you are struck by another forceful gust of wind. It nearly knocks you off your feet and back into your room. You know that you should go back inside and back to sleep, but you cannot take your eyes off the fog. Something deep inside you is drawn to it. You feel an inner heat, a burning desire. WHY??? Going against all of your instincts, you run back into your room and burst out into the hallway, frantically heading for the stairs. As you near the bottom step, you remember that you are only wearing a t-shirt (and of course, never put your panties back on). At this point, the burning inside of you is so strong that nothing matters. Pulling your shirt down a little, you run out the back door and into the field - feeling the cool, dew covered grass under your bare feet. You begin to run faster and faster toward the fog when you realize that the wind seems to be pushing you toward the mysterious fog. Suddenly you stop. "What the hell am I doing!?" you ask out loud. Then you hear the howling again. It is much closer this time. Looking at the fog, you notice that it is different from any fog you have seen before. Instead of simply hovering above the ground, it seems to be moving....as if it were alive. Gasping, you realize that not only is it moving, but also it is moving very quickly TOWARD YOU! Turning, you nearly stumble as you begin to run back toward the inn. You are able to take a few strides when the wind begins to push against you, slowing and then eventually stopping your escape. Terror begins to grip you as you see the fog gaining on you and the howling grows louder as the distance between you and the fog diminishes. It is as if the wind holds you captive. You try to move, but cannot. The wind begins to swirl around you faster and faster. It is at that moment when you begin to experience the strangest sensation. The terror you felt moments earlier begins to melt away and you begin to feel an odd sense of comfort. You then realize that your feet can no longer feel the damp ground. Looking down, you utter a small scream because the wind had lifted you up and is now carrying you toward the approaching fog. Your shirt begins to flap in the wind as you feel the breeze billow underneath the fabric and dance across your stomach and breasts. You feel a shiver run down your spine and your nipples begin to harden. The wind continues to carry you (now almost parallel to the ground below) while swirling around every inch of your skin. You begin to accept the sensations you are now feeling all over your body. Goosebumps form on every centimeter of your flesh. Your breasts begin to swell and your nipples stand erect. The fog is now ten meters from you and the howling is adding to the burning so deep inside you that you eagerly wait for whatever is to happen next. You feel your heart racing as the wind sends a pulsating ripple beginning at your feet and moving up your legs toward your stomach and across your breasts. You reach your arms out above your head. Just then, a quick gust peels your shirt right over your head and arms. Looking back, you see it flying behind you as it lightly drifts back to the ground. Suddenly, your feet feel damp as you begin to enter the fog. The wind continues to hold you up, but you are no longer being carried. Instead the fog begins to surround your entire body. This fog is damp, but is also very warm. It feels like it is part liquid and part solid and moves like a living being. You notice that it feels as if dozens of hands are caressing your body all at once. Lying, floating, you close your eyes with arms open wide as you accept the sensations. The "hands" explore and caress your face, neck, shoulders, arms, legs, stomach and breasts. Up until now, your legs have remained together. As you feel the fog caress your jaw, throat and neck, you feel an electrical spark run down your spine. The fog continues to caress and "lick" your nipples and breasts. It even seems to be kneading your swollen breasts. At the same time, the fog is "kissing", caressing and licking your stomach. It also begins to knead the cheeks of your ass and continues to lap at your thighs. Trembling, you slowly spread your legs, a little at first. The fog swirls up and over your labia, gently teasing and "licking" each lip. You cannot resist but to spread your legs wider as you feel yourself becoming engorged and droplets of your juices run down to your ass. You feel the fog on every centimeter of your body. Then, you feel it moving up your cheek toward your lips. You crave the fog. You must taste it. Slowly you open your lips and the fog enters your mouth. You notice that it has filled your mouth and feels so solid, yet you do not choke. It tastes like sweet nectar as you inhale deeper – craving it even more. The fog begins to throb inside your mouth. You then gasp when you feel your clit being "sucked" by the fog. The fog is swirling around your erect clitoris and pulsating the same way the fog has begun to pulsate around the rest of your body. When you begin to gyrate your hips up and down, rubbing and pushing your swollen clit against it, you feel the fog gently pressing at your gaping vagina - begging to enter. At first, you barely feel it slide in. Then it begins to expand deep inside of you. The throbbing inside your pussy equals the throbbing inside your mouth. You arch your back and begin to thrust your hips wildly as you feel an orgasm building. The fog begins to slowly pull out. You try to grip it with your contracting muscles, but cannot. "NO!" you scream. As if hearing your pleas, the fog quickly re-enters with a thrust that causes you to momentarily lose your breath as you cum for the first time. The fog stops moving momentarily, then slowly begins to pulsate in and around you. You feel its thickness sliding in and out of you in steady but quickening rhythm. You begin to buck your hips in order to keep up with the fog's rhythm, while your body writhes above the ground – floating higher and higher. All the while, you feel the constant caresses on every part of your body. Your breasts are more swollen than ever and your nipples are so erect that they feel like they will burst. Your clit begins to vibrate and the fog continues to pulse around it while fucking you deeper than you have ever been fucked before. Waves of what feels like one continuous orgasm sweep your body. Inside you, the fog seems to fill every crevice and stimulates every single nerve. The fog in your mouth has slipped so far down your throat that you expect to feel a gag sensation, but do not. You continue to taste the intoxicating nectar and breathe it deeply through your nostrils, sensing its enticing aroma. Your entire body begins to throb with the fog. The howling is almost deafening, causing your deepest passions to burn with desire. You can hardly breathe because of the inferno of lust you feel. Feeling your heart pound beneath your breast, you fuck the fog faster and harder as it envelopes and devours you. Then you feel it. At first there is a tingling beginning at your toes, followed by an electrical charge running up your spine. Inhaling deeply, you experience a shuddering vibration that travels up your legs, enters your fog-filled contracting vagina and radiates out from deep inside you to affect every millimeter of your body. You cry out violently, but are unable to produce a sound. Shuddering and shaking uncontrollably, you feel a gush of liquid shooting out of your throbbing vagina as your contractions peak and your entire body stiffens. Finally, your screams of ecstasy can be heard echoing in the hills. Panting and soaking wet, the wind gently lowers you to the soft grass. The fog hovers over you. You gasp and twitch as the fog gives a final "lick" to your still pulsing labia. Then the fog "kisses" your lips deeply (giving you one last taste) and caresses your jaw before slipping away. Still trying to catch your breath, you feel the first rays of the sunrise bring a warm glow to your glistening nude body. Realizing that you had better go find your shirt and get back inside before anyone else awakens, you struggle to your feet. Smiling and looking back toward the forest, you decide that maybe another night's stay might be in order. AROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!