5 comments/ 22671 views/ 0 favorites Ghost Story By: LunarKitten I was in the front parlor when he first appeared. I had been sitting in front of the fire, having a drink to celebrate my independence from my abusive husband. We had finally gone to trial that day, after battling back and forth through lawyers for almost six months. I had been so scared that things would be just as they always had. After all, Jeff always told me that no one ever believes or sides with a hysterical female. It's all hormones after all. Get them a little upset and they make up all kinds of silly stories. That was what he told the doctors in the emergency room, after my third trip. He told them that I was mad at him for going out with his friends...that I had flung myself down the stairs to get back at him, to keep him from leaving after a nasty fight. The doctors had believed him - that time and five others. The last time I almost died. But that time he had made the mistake of leaving finger marks, complete with a bruised outline of his wedding ring, in my throat. The police were arresting him while I was in surgery for a ruptured spleen. They arrested him at work, which is one of the reasons why he contested the divorce so bitterly. He claimed I ruined his reputation at the prestigious law firm where he was employed and that the grounds of abuse were unjustified and unprovable. Luckily for me, the nice people next door, the Parkers, had gotten tired of hearing the screaming and the yelling and seeing me beaten on almost a weekly basis. The night I almost died they snuck over with their camcorder and taped him beating me with a baseball bat, threatening to kill me, telling me that the doctors would believe him this time - just like all the other times. I smiled into my wineglass, thinking about the look on his face when the lawyer put the tape into the VCR. The judge had ruled in my favor. I got the house, the Jaguar and half the bank account. I had been sipping my wine, enjoying the feeling of safety within the walls that had seen so much anger and violence. I had thought all the doors and windows were shut and locked, I had checked and double-checked them every night since I had been home from the hospital...except for that night. That night Jeff came over, threatening to do the job right this time. I hadn't realized that the parlor window was open until Jeff came crashing through it. That was when he first appeared, my protector. He was tall, very handsome, and he smiled at me so sweetly that I wasn't afraid of him, even though I had no idea how he had gotten in the house. I just knew he was there to help me. Jeff saw him, too. I had never seen him so afraid before. It took me almost five months to figure out why. ***************** I was cleaning out the attic one rainy weekend afternoon five months after the divorce and came across some trunks of old clothing and boxes of personal items from Jeff's family. The house had belonged to his parents, who had died shortly after we met in college. The house and most of their assets had gone to his younger brother, Simon. I remembered Jeff complaining about it at the time the will had been read. As the oldest, he had felt that everything should have gone to him, that his brother must have forged the will. I had completely forgotten about those brief moments when his real personality had shown through before our marriage. I could now look back and recognize the warning signals that my love-fogged brain had somehow missed. Sometimes I had felt uncomfortable around him, especially when he had been drinking too much and he would start to talk bad about me and push me around in front of his friends. But I always excused him the next day, when he would bring me flowers and then make love to me. He always swore he'd never do that again, and I always believed him. Because I loved him. It only took him three weeks after our honeymoon to turn that love into fear. It took me six years after that to finally get away from him. I remembered how he had broken down with grief when he had gotten the news that his brother was dead, and me thinking that it was odd because just three days earlier he had been so venomous in his hatred of Simon. But I had put it down to him loving his brother more than being mad about getting passed over by his parents. Then I simply forgot about it. Two months after his brother died Jeff received the whole of his family's estate, graduated from law school and asked me to marry him. I forgot until I opened a photo album lying in a trunk of old quilts. I forgot until I saw a picture of his brother. Tall and handsome and smiling so sweetly up at me from his photograph. Then I knew why Jeff had been so afraid of my fearless protector. I looked up and saw Simon's ghost. He smiled sadly at me, as if knowing my thoughts, and I knew then, without the slightest hesitation, that Jeff had killed his brother. And I knew it was my turn to be the protector. *************************** I wasn't quiet sure how to go about proving the knowledge of my ex-husband's tragic deed. But I knew I had to find a way. I owed a debt. I intended to repay it. I sat down in the parlor, the fireplace nothing more than a fond memory in the afternoon heat. I drank a glass of iced tea and let my mind wander back to the night Jeff broke in and Simon defended me. I had been so happy that night. Lit the fireplace for the first time on my own, and very proud that I could do it. I poured a glass of red wine to celebrate my newfound independence. I was sitting on the overstuffed couch, in my favorite corner, under the afghan when I heard a car pull up in the driveway. Then the pounding on the front door started. And then the sound of Jeff's angry voice. I was so scared, still healing from the last beating. Then all the noise stopped. I was sure the sight of the neighbor's had run him off, but more sure that he was just looking for a way into the house. It was then that I remembered that I had opened the window a crack, to let the smoke out which was caused when I had first started the fire. I hurried over to it, but then the lights flickered and went out. I tripped over the cord to the telephone. I reached over and picked it up, to call the police....the line was dead. I caught a quick movement out the side of my eye. I was sure he was already in the house. I started running for the front door. I had never been so afraid of him, not even during that last beating when I watched him coming at me with the baseball bat. That night I had wanted nothing else than for him to kill me and have it over with. But this night I wanted to live. I had gotten a taste of what life was supposed to be like again. I wasn't ready to give that up yet. I had just reached the doorway when Jeff burst through the opened window, police sirens screaming in the night getting closer and closer. He was yelling and screaming, holding a gun in his hand. Then I felt another presence in the room. I looked and saw a tall man with dark hair. He was facing toward Jeff, his back to me. I was startled because Jeff stopped cold. His ranting cut off as if someone had just punched him in the stomach. The look on his face was priceless. All those years of him hitting me and making me cower in corners afraid of him, I had never once seen anything but contempt and self-satisfaction on his face. And here he was, looking like he was standing in front of a firing squad without a blindfold. I thought for a moment he was going to pass out. He was utterly terrified! He started backing up slowly, groping his way backward towards the window. Dropping the gun, he turned and ran toward it. When he fled through the window, the police were there to handcuff him. My mysterious hero then turned toward me, smiling the sweetest, kindest smile I had seen in what seemed like forever and a day. He had steel-grey eyes that smiled when he did. I tried to stammer out a thank you, but he disappeared before my eyes. I spotted the wineglass on the table and picked it up, swallowing it in one gulp before going to the door to let the police in. ******************************* Jeff spent that night in jail. For breaking the restraining order. For assault with a deadly weapon with intent to kill. And for resisting arrest, striking an officer and disorderly conduct. He went to trial a few weeks later. The judge gave him 6 months in a cushy federal prison and fined him $3,000.00. I couldn't believe it. He tried to kill me, hit a police officer -breaking her jaw - and he basically got a slap on the wrist! But I knew that he was lying in that cell, on that little cot of a bed, thinking every single night about seeing his brother. And thinking about why he was seeing his brother's ghost. His six months were almost up. I knew that he would come for me as soon as he thought my guard, and that of the authority's, was down. I knew it was just a matter of time before he tried to finish what he started. Unless I found a way to keep him in prison. Unless I found a way to communicate with his dead brother. Unless I found the evidence to convict him, I knew I was a dead woman. I spent weeks in that attic. Going through all of the trunks, looking through all of the albums. I got to know his family very well through letters and clippings I found. But, most of all, I discovered myself falling in love with Simon and his parents. And more and more convinced that Simon's was not the only murder that Jeff had committed. But I could find no evidence of his hatred in that attic - something that, deep down, I had known all along. After all, he had all of those years to destroy it, without my knowledge that it had ever existed in the first place. One afternoon, I started feeling closed in. I went outside and took a walk down to the little bizarre four blocks down, in what was commonly referred to as "hippie town". I felt better, out in the fresh air, and decided to browse the stalls. The last stall I came to, much to my surprise, was a wonderful, knowledgeable woman named Sarah. She was selling herbs and ointments, amulets and crystals. She also had a sign advertising palm and tarot readings. I started chatting with her about fate and learning about the past history of objects. She struck me as the opposite of a flake - the term most used when describing fortunetellers. But I knew she was my salvation. And that she was going to be the one to help Simon and me bring Jeff to the justice he so rightfully deserved. ******************************* I invited Sarah to lunch the next day. I was hoping that she would sense something, without me having to bring it up. I had always been loathed to ask people for help. But I knew I had to do it this time, to swallow all of my pride and ask her. For Simon's sake, if not for my own. I prepared a light lunch and some iced tea for the two of us. Simon would pop in and out, as he was want to do. I enjoyed it when he would do this; it felt like he was just checking on me, to see if I was ok. It made me feel loved and cherished, something that I hadn't experienced in a long time. Sarah showed up with a bottle of my favorite wine. I didn't have the nerve to ask her how she knew. I thought I knew the answer, but didn't want it verbalized. If she knew about the wine, I could only imagine how much else she had picked from me the day before. I invited her inside and took her back to patio. I noticed that she was very quiet and when she stepped out onto the stone floor of the patio she turned white as a ghost. "Are you alright?" I asked her, not seeing Simon around I was worried. "There was a violent murder here," she stammered. "And it wasn't that long ago. The smell of blood is still fresh in the air." "What do you mean? I've lived here for over six years. No one has died, much less been murdered." She closed her eyes, rocking and swaying. I heard her mumbling to herself. The she stopped, opened her eyes and looked right at me. "I happened nine years ago. They were your husband's parents." I shook my head, thinking that maybe she was a flake after all. "They died in a boating accident." She looked at me very intensely, "No, they were killed by your husband right here in this room and then placed on their boat, which was rigged to explode. They are in touch with me right now. They say you are in terrible danger. They say for you to get out of the house, quickly. Right now!" The phone rang, making both of us jump. "It's the police," she said gravely. "He's escaped, even though he has only three more weeks to serve in prison. He knows what you are doing and what you mean to do. He's on his way here now." ************** I felt the familiar zing of fear run through me. I couldn't move. He was on his way and I hadn't come any closer to proving his guilt. All I had was the word of a booth-side psychic that he had killed his parents in this room. Sarah grabbed my hand and drug me out into the kitchen, heading for the back door. Before we got half way Simon appeared, blocking our way. And for the first time I heard him speak. "It's too late. He's here. Go to the attic. I'll try to keep him away from you. Go. Hide." He disappeared and we ran for the stairs, heading to the attic, to safety. I heard a noise at the front, the sound of an axe hitting wood. Turning around to look, I saw Simon standing at the door, with both of his parents. I ran up the stairs, passing Sarah, dragging her with me. I didn't want Jeff to see where we were going. Once in the attic, I barred and locked the door. We moved furniture and trunks in front of the door until it was no longer visible. I still didn't feel safe. I knew what Jeff was like when he was angry. But I had never faced him like this. I knew neither Sarah nor I would survive if he got through that door. I peeked out the attic window in time to see him bust through the front door. I saw him rush in and then back out. He looked up. I didn't move fast enough. I knew he had seen me. He now knew where I was. I heard him roar in anger as he burst back through the front door. I waited what seemed like hours for him to come banging on the attic door. But he never came. I heard sirens in distance and knew that my precious neighbors had seen what was happening and had called the police. I watched them getting out of their cars, pulling their guns, walk through the front door. Then I saw them back out, go to their cars. I saw one get on the CB while another got sick by the edge of the squad car and then they all just stood there looking at the front door. One of them looked up, saw me and motioned to the others. I opened the window and called for help. "He's in the house! Be careful! He has an axe; he used it to break through the door. I haven't seen him leave yet..." I saw them talk to each other and then one of them yelled back at me. "You're safe, ma'am. Did you see anyone else come into the house after he did?" "No, no one. Why? What's going on?" "Your husband is dead, ma'am. The axe you say he broke into with is what they used to kill him. He never even made it up the stairs." ************** ************** It's been two years since my husband's death. I finally feel safe now. I've never seen Simon or his parents since that fateful day. But I know they are all at rest now. The police investigation led to the patio room. I told them what Sarah had said. They brought in an infrared light and a spray bottle with a strange liquid in it. They sprayed the liquid, cut on the light and shown it around the room. There were blood splatters everywhere. When samples were taken, they matched that of his parents. They re-opened the investigations of his parents' and brother's deaths. It was proven that his parent's boat had been tampered with and the explosion was deliberate. Nothing, however, could be proven about Simon's death. But that was ok. Sarah told me that he was at peace and had never sought justice for himself, only for that of his beloved parents. I miss him. Some days, sitting in the attic, I think I see something moving out of the corner of my eye. I smile and turn, thinking it is him. It's usually just the cat I adopted the day after Jeff's death. They've never found the person or persons responsible for Jeff's murder. But I knew they wouldn't. And I know they never will. No fingerprints, other than Jeff's, were found on the axe. But that's because vengeful ghosts don't have any. Ghost Story This is my first story. Hope you like it. She looked around her new room in satisfaction. Her own room! No sharing, no putting up with her sisters mess. Slipping out of her shirt, jeans then bra, she was totally unawear she was being watched. As so as the family moved in, he was drawn to the older girl. Her modest clothing did little to hide her sensual form with firm young breasts and rounding butt. She had green eyes and auburn hair He had to make contact with her while they were alone. He watched as she pulled off her pink top exposing a tiny lacy bra. He could nearly make out the outline of her pebbly nipples. She wriggled out of her jeans exposing a pair of pale blue panties that fit her bottom nicely. He watched as she reached around and unhooked her bra. "Oh yes" he whispered not realizing he had spoken. "Oh Yes" She turned to the sound that seemed to come from the wall. Startled she went to her dresser for her nightgown. He cursed himself but when he saw her naked young breasts something in him came nearly alive. They were easily a B cup with tiny pink nipples. Oh he longed to touch a female breasts again, it had been sooo long. At last she was asleep. He could tell by the shallowness of her breathing. He watched her from across the room until he could not resist anymore. She lay on her side facing him, eyes closed in slumber. Every once in a while a faint sigh would escape her lips as if dreaming of something pleasurable. He sat beside her just taking in her beauty, Carefully he reached out and touched her cheek. Her skin was so soft and smooth like a fresh peach. He stroked her silky auburn hair. "Um mm" she softly moaned in her sleep. Lazily she opened one eye. "go back to sleep princesses ",he told her. He brushed his hand over her eyes closing them. Her pink soft lips drew his attention. He slowly traced them with on finger enjoying their soft moistness. A lock of hair fell across her face, he gently brushed it back and dropped a single kiss on her forehead. "Sleep well princess." Then he left her side before he was tempted to explore this young beauty any longer. Chapter 2 After her shower Kari, went to her room. It had been three days and she still could not shake the feeling that something was in the room with her. The presence was not frightening or threatening at all. Instead, she had the feeling that it was male and very curious about her. She could almost see him, Ever since that night that she had the dream, but thinking on it, was it a dream? She sat at her desk combing out her hair. The thin robe she was wearing slipped off her left shoulder, exposing the top of her breast. Her instinct was to tighten the belt but looking in the mirror she could have sworn she saw a shapely form. A tingle of excitement went through her. She slid the robe off completely leaving her clad only in panties. She studied her young breasts in the mirror, cupping them in her hands she molded them allowing her thumbs to rub across the taunt nipples. Closing her eyes she groaned with pleasure. It took everything he had not to go up behind her and place his hands over hers, as he watched her fondle her breasts. How he longed to caress them until she was completely aroused. But just as quickly she stopped. Standing up she pulled on a thin night shirt that hit her mid thigh and climbed into bed. She closed her eyes suppressing a smile. She had seen some for in the mirror. The idea of being watched as she undressed excited her. Knowing that he had seen her playing with her tits. When her robe had loosened she had quickly decided to give whoever it was a real show. Keri lay so still until she felt someone setting beside her on the bed. Again, as he softly caressed her face, she opened her eyes. "Don't be afraid Princess, I wont hurt you." though not audible somehow she knew what he said. "You've been watching me." she whispered. "Yes" "Why?" She wanted to know. "because, you are so beautiful." The spirit seemed hesitant. He carefully reached out. "I like touching your skin, its so soft." his hand though not seen, felt warm and strong against her skin. "Thank you." she said feeling more aroused. Would he touch her more? "You were watching me earlier?" she said as she felt him caressing her shoulder and arm. "Yes, he said , there was a warmth in his voice that aroused her. "You are very beautiful, he brushed her hair back.. she felt his hand on her chest just above her breast. She knew he wanted to touch her breast. She smiled. "I saw you touching yourself , your body is so sensual." She felt his hand brush across her left breast. Her nipple came to a stiffen peak, She closed her eyes and moaned. Feeling her arousal he was urged to continue. Her insides seemed to melt as he caressed both her breasts. "I like touching your pretty breasts." "They are kinda small" she said. "No, he assured her, they are perfect. The way your nipples stiffen at my touch." He fondled her for several more minuets then he stopped. "You must sleep now." She sat up disappointed. He gently guided her back down, "Shh go to sleep my princess, I'll come again tomorrow night." She felt him depart, reaching down she slid her hand in her panties and found her little pussy moist and very hot. Closing her eyes she dreamed of what other pleasures awaited her. Ghost Story The hunger woke in her. That deep ache. That needed to be touched, caressed, relieved. She floated through the man's house. Her white hair gusting behind her. Her smooth skin catching the moonlight. The tips of her breasts pushing through her nightgown. God, how she needed. She needed to feel the wind. The light. Smell her skin, as it flushed in want. She needed a man inside her. The burst of his seed. Filling her up to infinity. Her name was Jordan, and she had died a few hundred years ago. No body. She had sailed through this world without touch, taste or smell. She found out something. In a way that she had no time to think of now. She needed sex, that primal energy, to gain any corporeal form. She really needed it. God, the feeling of skin. That throbbing wetness, that ache that burst into her being. She came into the man's room. The moonlight lit his frame. The glistening body. The sweat in his six pack. His regal face, strong jaw, solid cheekbones. He tossed. He turned. His glistening manhood poked through the sheets, and his tortured twisted in his sleep. She had watched him. He wanted it as much as she did. A fantasy. Some missed part of him that was not part of his happy marriage. Something that she could fix. She saw his manhood. The swollen, engorged organs. They must ache. As much as her own body did. She could relieve that pressure. Make those tortured muscles stop the pressure. She sat on him. Touched his head. Closed her eyes, and let his mind into hers. She fell into his dream. *** And onto grass. She smelt the air. Looked up into the blue sky, heard the water rushing by. God, it felt good to be alive. Touching, tasting, living. She levered up. What sort of fantasy would it be this time? A threesome? Selena Gomez? Ryan Goseling? Nothing to do. She might as well relax. Luxuriate in this warmth. Feeling it kiss her lips. Slide along her hair. If only she were naked, to feel the grass on her flesh, and the sun on her skin. She looked at her clothes. Riding boots. Leather shirt tight on impossibly rounded breasts. Incredible to the touch. Raising a groan in her throat. One of her nipples pushed through her shirt as hard as a rock. They ached. Hot to the touch. Sending electricity through her body, and jolt in between her legs. She dripped and it felt beautiful. Warm. Like life. God she needed it. She needed the length of a man inside her. On top of her. Filling her. Her hand touched the smoothness of her inner thigh. She could...No, she couldn't. She sighed. Feeling the urge all over. To touch. To hold. To feel something, anything, pushing into her. She had to wait. She slipped off her shoes. Felt the earth. Like kisses on her feet. She was in a clearing. Surrounded by trees, standing on a bed of grass, and before a lake with the sun turning blushing everything in sight. The green of the leaves. The blue of the lake. She dipped her toe in and groaned. Looking at herself, she could see her face. Heart shaped. Black hair falling around it like a mane. She had eyes as blue as the sky. Thick lips the colour crushed raspberries. It felt good to be alive. Leaning back, she waited. The ache growing between her legs. Oh god, Let him come. Let the man come. Her breasts ached. Her lips burned. They wanted another lips on her. Oh god, please come...please... Finally, the man of this dream came onto the scene. A rough spun tunic. Coarse pants. He had the shoulders of a working man. Thick, and strong. Calloused hands. A strong face. Lips that would push against her own. Stick his tongue in her mouth. She steadied her breathing. Feeling the flush on her face. Her whole body flushing in heat. Throbbing. Wanting. Needing. 'Sorry miss', he looked down, 'I didn't mean to bother you.' 'I'm happy you did'. She couldn't keep the breathlessness out of her voice. The lushness of her eyes. The parting of her lips and the catch in her breath. 'Mam, I can't be here.' 'Sit down.' He sat down beside her. He had the brownest eyes she ever saw. Like fresh earth. With a heat that made her heart beat. Uncontrollable. Pounding. Raising an unstoppable heat inside of her. She looked down. At his shirt, riding up, exposing abs. At the thickness of his cock pushing through his pants. She could feel it. His sensations. What he felt between his legs. The throbbing nature of it. The thickness of it. The wetness at the tip, dripping out, wanting to relieve the painful ache between his thighs. She felt it as her own. 'Give it to me. Oh, please. Fill me with it. Pound me. Slam me. Show me how it is to be a woman.' 'Mam, I can't..' 'Can't you? We're alone. Nobody will see us. Probably...' He looked away. She put her hand on his cheek. Could feel the warmth of it on his skin. See the want in her face as he looked at her. The flush on her cheek. The look in her eyes, like heated glass. 'Fill me. Please. Take me'. 'Mam...' 'Please.' She leaned back. Her pants sliding off. Showing the smoothness between her legs. The tremble of her lips. The cream driping down her petals. 'Oh, please...' He took her. His strong hands holding her waist. So masculine. She ripped off his shirt. Biting his shoulders, his ears, his neck. Tasting the sweetness of his sweat. Feeling the streght of his undulating biceps. The strength of his back. The pressure of his cock through his pants. 'Take them off. Take them off. Fill me.' He groaned. Sending electricity through her. She helped slide his pants down his legs. Grabbed the firmness of his buttock. Held the length of him. Moaned at the thickness. The length. The strength of it, as hard as anything she ever felt, longer than anything, thicker than anything, unable to fill her in anything but a dream. 'Put it in.', he did and she groaned as he entered an inch, 'Oh god, yes. God yes. That's good.' He slid in another inch. Like lightning through her body. Tingling her from head to toe. Closing her eyes in bliss and blinding her with light. Breathing in her ear, he groaned as she held him. Feeling every inch of him sliding into her. Flling her. Soothing an ache that could not be touched. An emptiness that gnawed at her. Sliding into her, and sending warmth through her body. She smelled the scent of him. Felt his lips on her own. Pushing against her. Filling her mouth with his tongue. Teasing her. Sending shocks through her. His balls throbbed. She could feel them. So heavy. Hitting her, and she could feel the pressure on them. The ache that turned into pleasure. Heavy with seed, wanting to be released, they slammed into her. The strength of his tighs. His hands above her waist pushing her into him. Then pushing her away. Sliding her along his massive length. He needed to be released. He wanted to be. She felt it inside him. Her ache increased, feeding off his own. Her nipples so tight they hurt. The wetness between her legs doing nothing to relieve the feeling of heat. He pounded into her. Sliding her up and down him. The callouses of his hand on her smooth skin. The gentleness. The caress of him sliding his hand along her belly as he filled her. In that frozen moment, the feeling of his hand on her, the warmth of it, penetrating her deeper than anything else, and melting her, she whispered, 'Fuck me until you come.' He went harder. Growling. Trembling. Putting his weight on her. Causing the ache in her niples to grow uncontrollable. Needing to be released. Slamming his pelvis into her. Slapping his stomach into her. Breathing in her ear, holding her shoulders, slamming deeper and deeper until she thought she would explode. The world tilted. She could feel his cock. The ache in his massive, heavy, cum filled, testicles. Feeling the need to release. The build-up. The drip growing at his tip. The tension there. Wire tight. Reflecting her own. Clenching as she clenched. Slamming into her as she slammed into him. Feeling his cock, and feeling her wetness drip down him. Slamming. Slamming. Filling her. Pushing her to the heavens. Oh god. She couldn't hold it in. She needed it. Fuck me harder. Harder. Hardeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrr. It throbbed inside her. Sending her body into seismic shifts. Her legs trembling. Pulsing through her like the sun. It throbbed again and her whole body jolted upwards. She felt that pressure under his head. The wetness dripping down him. That ache in his organs growing until.... *** She came out of the dream. Riding him in moonlight as his seed entered her. Every last inch like heaven. Lasting an hour. Filling her. Sliding along him. Feeling herself clenching. Electricity through her body. He cumming inside her, she spurting on him His seed hit her wall. She could smell the sex. The want. The warmth flooding her from head to toe. The feel of her hair. The lusciousness of it. The pounding hitting her very being. Sliding along him. Every movement making her head spin and more warmth flood into her. The warm, wet, summer, air from the window cascaded over her like a waterfall. The moonlight warm like his touch. Like his hand. Like the warmth of a summers day. He came again and her eyes closed in bliss as she savoured the feeling of him emptying himself into her. She opened them when it was over, still warm. Still flushed, but sated. Relaxed. Every muscle relieved. Every ache soothed. Every inch of her satisfied. She collapsed on the bed. Feeling his sweat. The groan of him. The exhalation of his breath. The sound of him going back to sleep. She slid off him, groaning. Feeling it all over again as one final spurt of him entered her. She lay in the warmth. Beside him. Watching his manhood relx. His ache completely relieved. The smell of his raw masculinity flooding the room. She groaned. Still throbbing with her orgasm. So warm. Her skin hot and pulsing in joy. She sighed, exhausted. Holding his face. Kissing his cheek. Looking at him with the eyes of a lover. This warmth would leave her in the morning. She would not feel it in the morning. These sheets. This moonlight. The smell of this wonderful man, or the orgasmic pulse of her own heartbeat. He wouldn't even see her in the morning. But she would do it again. Enter another man's dreams. Fulfil a fantasy. Feel that thrill of life running through her bones. She would do it all again. She smiled and wondered what next fantasy she would fulfil. Sated, she relaxed into sleep still holding the warmth of sex.