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Supernatural Ch. 01

By: TonyDowse



Chapter 1

THE STATUE

Another week-end alone - the fifth since she had split from Michael. Week-days were bad enough, getting through the day-time was made easier by her work, the evenings were really difficult. The empty flat, memories all around her, memories of him, memories of them, together. But at least there were things to be done, work brought home to finish and the regular chores of life used to fill the remaining hours before bed.

Bed. Once a playground, now an isolation cell.

But the week-ends were worse, far, far worse. Each one stretching ahead in an unending misery of loneliness.

After the first two or three she had sat down and given herself a good talking to, not for the first time but with more determination. It was over, life goes on, get a hold of yourself, get out, do things, meet people. All sound and sensible advice - but so hard to actually follow. Go where? Do what? Meet who? So she had made a list, scouring the papers for ideas and places - surprising herself at the number of activities there actually were available. Apart from the well-publicised concerts, museums and art galleries, there were literally dozens of smaller events going on at any one time. Odd sounding clubs, special interest group meetings, good works needing help - where to begin?

But later, scanning the list she had made, she felt gloom descending again. A number of things sounded vaguely interesting and, with somebody to go with, curiosity alone might have motivated her to go - but not alone.

So here she was, paying the entrance fee for the art gallery, predictable, unimaginative, safe - and as she paid for the guide-book and stood for a minute or two looking around, hearing the noise of whispered conversations, seeing the proprietorial air of the attendants as they went about their unknown tasks, she tried to remember exactly how many years it had been since the last time she had visited it. 

As she pressed on with her disinterested tour she saw fewer and fewer people, here and there a student settled in for a day of studying, a few obvious tourists intent on doing one of the items on their itinerary, every now and then an attendant making sure that all was well. But even these vanished as she left behind the more popular exhibits, wandering aimlessly floor by floor, room by room, the guidebook still unopened in her hand.

It took up a poorly lit corner of a musty room apparently set aside for lesser statuary, many of which seemed to be chipped or broken in some way - but in spite of that, something drew her through the maze of them, until she stood in front of this one. A young man, life-size, semi-reclining, supporting his weight on one arm, the other lightly resting across one thigh, his head raised slightly as he looked just above her head and away into the distance.

How well she knew the shape of the lightly muscled chest and shoulders, the angle of the jaw, the curls of hair around his neck and ears. It was Michael!

The long slim legs, one curled beneath the other, just as she remembered so often seeing them on those wet Sunday afternoons they had spent together - spread out across her lounge-room floor, reading, talking, making love.

Finally allowing herself to look down to where his thighs met, she saw that even there the form was the same, the soft, unprotected vulnerability of him, and the sight triggered heart-stopping memories, memories of the power and life that she could rouse in it, sometimes with the lightest of touches, sometimes with just a look.

She found that without realising it she had placed one hand on the thigh closest to her, it lay resting lightly on the hardness of it, her finger-tips slightly curled over the ridge of muscle and, to her surprise she discovered that the marble felt warm, not cold as she might have expected. As her fingers slowly, hesitantly moved, following the ridge-line, she looked up into his face - almost expecting to see again the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth that her touch would have produced - and, unbelievably, there it was!

Surely his face had been set in a distant, unsmiling look - but now, as her hand slowly caressed the long line of his thigh there was undoubtedly the hint of that so familiar reaction. She closed her eyes, shutting out everything except the images the feel of him created in her mind - and, impossibly, she found that she could now feel the softness of his skin, even the individual hairs beneath her finger-tips. Hardly daring to breathe, she let her hand drift slowly, imperceptibly higher, not allowing herself to even think about what she expected to feel.

The almost sharp curve of his hip bone, the softer fullness of the flesh above that would in turn lead up to ribs, chest and shoulders - but her fingers slipped sideways, feeling the firm tightness of his stomach, thrilling as she always did to the feel of those bands of muscle, before splaying her fingers out and down.

The almost oppressive silence was broken by her own sharply indrawn gasp of surprise as they encountered and then slipped between the first of his thickly crinkling, pubic hairs and it was only with enormous difficulty that she resisted confirming what she was feeling by actually looking down at him. Instead she stilled the movement of her hand long enough for her pounding heart and her whirling confusion of thoughts to slow a little. 

In her mind's eye she watched as his manhood slowly responded to her - lengthening, rolling across the curving flesh, then slowly lifting from where it had lain against his inner thigh as life and power returned to it - and, as she remembered the image of his response, feeling her own body in turn reacting to the exciting sight of his.

But even as she held herself breathlessly in check, she felt the unmistakable tightening of the muscles beneath her hand and sensed the slight shift of his legs that from time to time would indicate that rather than him now starting to caress her, he wanted her to continue, this time for her to unselfishly give him pleasure.

Then, almost of their own accord her fingers began to move again, slowly edging lower, parting the thick bush of hair until they felt it and, nudging it, confirmed the impossible by feeling the base of the still hardening shaft that her body knew and loved so much. Her fingers curled around it, feeling its heat and, with almost feathery lightness, began to glide up the length of the hard, vein-ridged column. When finally they brushed over the rim of the polished head she was certain she heard him give a sigh of surrender and felt his body move, giving her freer access to him by leaning back a little.

She knew exactly what he wanted and how he liked her to do it - could tell from each intake of breath and muscle twitch when to change the rhythm of her strokes and just what would next please him the most. She didn't need to open her eyes to know the deepening colour of the increasingly glossy head or the look of helpless pleasure that was on his face. Didn't need to hear him gasp intermittently as she used her understanding of his body's needs to take him steadily closer to his climax.

Knowing all that so well she could, while her hand continued to take him towards his ultimate release, in her mind now re-live their happiness together, as though re-playing film of her own moments of most intense joy. The times she had felt her love spontaneously welling up at the sight of him or even at just the sound of his voice. The shared times that had become so special just because it had been the two of them together. The sometimes uncontrollable need she had felt for him to simply hold her close to himself. The indescribable, physical joys he had always been able to arouse in her.

Even as she recalled their love-making her hand felt the suddenly increased power in the hardness of him and sensed the tighter flexing of the rest of his body. She let go of her own memories and concentrated her still closed eyes on the sight of him, flickering back and forth between his pleasure contorted face and the rigid, now thrusting shaft.

Then his deep cry of release echoed around her as he finally came, one pumping hand forcing powerful jets from him, the other catching as much of the creamy stickiness as she could. And as she continued to drain his body she felt her own responding even more strongly to both the thrill of the actual feel of him, and of being able to please him so much.

When finally she felt him relax she released her hold and stood quite still, hearing her own panting breath gradually quieten and feeling the racing of her heart slowing to a more normal pace.

Suddenly she heard a cough behind her and, spinning round, opening her eyes, saw an attendant in the doorway.

'Are you all right miss?'

'Yyyes - thank you.' she heard herself manage to say. Her mind, desperately searching for words, added. 'I was lost in thought I'm afraid. The statue here, it's quite - er, quite lovely.'

'I'm afraid it's only a copy miss - that's why it's up here with the rejects. But yes, I suppose it isn't a bad one. Anyway, if you're sure you're O.K.'

'Yes, I'm sure, thank you.' she said and was relieved to see him walk away, leaving her alone again.

She turned back slowly, hardly daring to look. There it was - but now looking as she had first seen it, just a statue - in fact, as she looked more closely it was difficult to see why she had thought it reminded her of Michael. What was it the attendant had said? 'A copy. Amongst the rejects.' Maybe that was in some strange way appropriate.

But, as she finally turned away from it and began to head for the door she became aware of a sensation of tightness on her hand and, looking down at it, saw the light reflecting off the rapidly drying splodge of wetness.

Supernatural Ch. 02



Chapter 2

INAUGURAL FLIGHT

Although a fair bit older than myself, Charlie had been a friend for many years and we maintained that friendship even after he left the newspaper business, meeting every three or four months for a few drinks, a meal and a chat. He liked to keep up with what was happening in the industry, not just in terms of which stories had been killed off, who was angling for what job but the seamier side too, who was sleeping with who - and why. Although he'd quietened down a bit as he got older, I knew from both the general gossip and from the odd stories he told me himself that in his hay-day he'd been a keen player in the bed-room stakes himself.

I had been on an assignment in South-East Asia and had got a few juicy bits of information that I was looking forward to passing on to him but as we ate we discussed the state of the world and the various ways our colleagues were reporting and mis-reporting it and it was only when we'd finished eating and exhausted the other topics that he asked me to tell him the unpublishable stuff.

I brought him up to date on the actual liaisons and then recounted the gossip, some of which made him chuckle and some of which brought a silent whistle of genuine surprise. When I'd finished he asked. 'And you, what have you been up to? Any interesting adventures?'

I told him about a particular girl I'd met at one of the functions I'd had to cover and as usual he wanted to know the precise detail of what had happened between us, who had done what to whom, when and how often - he was a great one for detail. I told him all that - and then added that after spending several nights together in my bed, nights that had been very hectic and totally satisfying, that she'd then suddenly vanished. I'd checked every source I could think of and though quite a few people knew her well, it seemed that nobody actually knew where she worked, or even where she lived.

I could see from the different, more intense expression on his face that my experience had got his interest but as I explained, it wasn't a great love affair, I had another leg of my assignment to move on to, the whole thing had made me curious rather than concerned. But then I asked him why he had reacted with such obvious interest to my little story - and he answered that it had reminded him of something very strange that had happened to him, when he was much younger - and naturally enough I asked him to tell me about it.

'It was on an inaugural flight, a particular airline's first flight on a particular route. Unlike the trips they put on these days, when they cram as many people as possible into the plane and as it was the high quality of in-flight service that the airline was keen to demonstrate, they had kept the numbers down. The seating had been arranged so that in each of the blocks of three seats the centre one was left vacant - and as whomever it was that was originally scheduled to sit with me failed to show up, although I was right at the back of the plane I ended up having the row to myself.

Planes didn't have the performance they do these days, needed re-fuelling more often for one thing, ten hours or so was the maximum I think. Anyway, on that flight the last leg was the long one, about seven or eight hours as I remember, flying through the night, scheduled to arrive just after dawn. During the early part of the flight we were all moving around, chatting to old friends, making new ones, the usual thing, only returning to our own seats when food was served. They gave us a slap-up meal of course and plenty of good wine to wash it all down, after which the hostesses collected plates and glasses and then lowered the cabin lights so we could sleep through the rest of the flight.

It wasn't my first trip to that part of the world but I was still excited by the chance to visit places and people I'd known - and I don't mind admitting that included on my list of places were one or two bars I'd frequented. Bars which had some of the most beautiful girls, all of who were highly skilled in the art of providing various sexual pleasures for men. So although the rest of the passengers turned off their reading lights, making the cabin quite dark, I was still wide awake, happily sipping the last of an excellent bottle of wine, thinking about the work ahead of me - and also anticipating some of the more exotic pleasures that I felt sure I'd soon be experiencing.

I lost track of time but it couldn't have been that long after most of the rest of the people had nodded off, when, probably a result of the combination of the effects of the good food, wine, the gentle hum of the engines and my increasingly erotic thoughts, I found that although I was just starting to feel a little drowsy I was also feeling very, very horny.

A few minutes later she silently appeared in the aisle beside me. Even by comparison with the rest of the hostesses - all of whom had obviously been picked for their looks as well as their proficiency - she was absolutely stunning. As I thought I'd had a go at chatting-up each of the hostesses on the flight and none of those I'd spoken to had been as gorgeous as the girl standing there I couldn't understand where she had come from - but decided that fairly academic question could be resolved later.

The airline's uniform was based on the traditional cheongsam, a figure-hugging dress made from brightly decorated silk, a feature of which were the thigh-high slits up either side - a leg-man's dream. In contrast and as though in an effort to disguise the fact that most Asian women have comparatively small breasts, the upper part fitted right up to the neck. This girl was the exception and even in the dim light she must have seen my eyes staring at the way the thin silk temptingly accentuated the full, upsweeping curves beneath it.

'May I?' She asked in a low, slightly husky voice, her eyes indicating the empty seats beside me and of course I said. 'Of course, please do.'

She sidled towards me, my eyes automatically dropping from the bulge of her breasts to admire the long, smooth length of thigh she exposed as she eased into the middle seat and settled herself. She smiled and asked. 'Not sleepy yet?'

'Not really, I was thinking about what I have to do - and looking forward to renewing some previous friendships.'

'Ah, so this is not your first visit.'

'That's right, I spent quite a while there a couple of years ago.'

'You enjoyed your stay?'

'Very much so.' I answered with a broad grin.

She gave me a knowing smile in return and asked. 'Am I right then in thinking one of the friends you referred to, would be Mr. Ong Chee?'

Chee was the owner of what was probably the best bar in town, at least of the bars that catered for more than just the drinking needs of a mainly western and more affluent clientele.

'You are, I was a frequent visitor to his establishment.'

'For food and drink?'

'Yes - and other things too.'

'Ah I thought so, although still young, I felt sure you were a man who already appreciates the importance of the finer things, of special service.'

'I would like to think so - certainly the service on this flight has been very fine.'

'Thank you. But of course there are limits to what can be done in such circumstances. Unlike Mr. Chee's establishment we do not have the most suitable facilities for providing that special service to the individual person, such as yourself for instance.'

Above Ong Chee's bar were a maze of beautifully furnished rooms, where customers could go with the girl or girls of their choice - and I guessed from the twinkle in her eye that she knew I was familiar with that set-up.

'I understand what you mean.'

'That difficulty makes it impossible to provide all customers with even limited services.' She paused, her slender fingers toying with the button at the neck of her dress for a moment, then as she turned towards me she unfastened it and then those below, adding. 'But that doesn't mean we shouldn't do our very best to please the discerning and truly appreciative gentleman.'

The front of her dress parted as she leaned towards me and as she wasn't wearing a bra beneath it I saw I had been right in thinking that her breasts were much larger than the average Asian woman's. They were full, perfectly shaped and altogether quite mouth-wateringly beautiful. I couldn't resist reaching out to touch her and as I began to lightly caress the firm curve, the feel of her incredibly smooth skin sent thrills running up through my fingers. It wasn't long before I saw the dark pink nipple begin to stiffen and when I looked up her eyes were shining with the pleasure my gentle touch was giving her.

I twisted sideways then, cupping her breast, I lowered my head and began to lick and suck it and as I did that I also became aware that I was responding strongly to the feel of her. As though she sensed that, she slipped her hand down between my legs, immediately finding the stiffening length of my cock, then she began to gently squeeze and fondle it. As I had been feeling horny even before she appeared, it didn't take her too long to get it up to almost full size.

'Unfortunately the circumstances are not suitable for what I would really like to do for you.' She whispered. 'But, if you will allow, I would enjoy giving you second best service.'

'I would be honoured and delighted.' I managed to mumble rather formally in reply.

She unzipped my trousers and I lifted myself so she could get those and then my underpants down to my knees. By then she had got me so worked up that she actually had a bit of trouble getting them over the rigid length of my cock and I heard her give a complimentary gasp of surprise when she finally freed it and saw how big it had already become. Her gasp was nothing compared to the sound I made when she took hold of it and began to stroke it - and because the sensations she produced were so intense, although I was already squirming with pleasure I looked down to see just how she was achieving them.

I saw that instead of just making a fist around the shaft she was holding it between her finger-tips, her thumb resting against the under-side. Each stroke began with her fingers lightly brushing up and down over the rim and then up over the smooth curve of the head, her thumb flicking back and forth across the sensitive ridge of skin beneath it. Every now and then she slid them all the way down the shaft, pushing the small folds of skin ahead of them, until, as she finally reached the base, she loosened her grip slightly and splayed out her fingers, slipping them down around my swollen balls and gently fondling them, before returning to continue stroking the head again.

When I looked back up I saw that she was smiling, her eyes flicking up and down from my face to my cock, constantly checking my response to what she was doing and it wasn't until she was certain that she had finally worked me up to fever pitch that she leaned forward, moistened her lips and slid them, very, very slowly down over the head. The contrast between what her fingers had been doing and the feel of the moist warmth of her lips was absolutely sensational - but that was only the start.

Instead of taking all of it straight into her mouth, she curled and tightened her lips in the deep groove behind the head, then, as her fingers continued lightly stroking up and down the shaft, she made the head swell even more and sent shudders of sheer ecstasy right through me by sucking it strongly and at the same time swirling her tongue around the rim.

The sensations she produced were certainly far stronger than anything I'd previously experienced, even at Chee's - and unlike many other women I'd had give me head, she gave me the feeling that she really wanted to do it, wanted to taste it, enjoyed feeling it responding.

When I looked down through a thickening haze of pleasure I saw that her treatment had made my cock grow bigger than I'd ever seen it, her lips were being stretched wide by the sheer size of the bloated head and the veins that ran down the rock-hard shaft were grossly swollen and knotted. I tried to relieve some of the growing tension and pressure by thrusting it deeper into her mouth but she resisted that, managing to hold me down, further heightening the tension and increasing the thrills surging through me, so I gave myself up to her and the exquisite pleasure she was obviously determined to give me.

Given the way I was feeling before she started and the expert way she was attacking me it wasn't long after that when both of us felt the start of the inevitable climax and when I felt the first powerful surge welling up I whispered urgently - 'I'm going to come! I'm coming!' - and tried to pull myself back out from between her lips. But she gurgled something, I felt her shake her head - and I realised that she actually wanted me to come in her mouth.

She used one hand to hold the quivering shaft steady so she could bob and suck even more determinedly, while the other, gently at first and then progressively more firmly, fondled and squeezed my balls, as though trying to urge the thick stuff up out of them.

Not surprisingly when I came it was with enormous force - and as at that very moment she plunged her mouth right down to the base, finally letting me thrust upwards, at the same time sucking and swallowing furiously - I pumped load after load into her. I was amazed at the amount she got out of me and I'm sure that if she hadn't taken my cock right down into the back of her throat she'd never have been able to swallow it all, as it was I think I literally pumped most of it straight down.

After she had sucked me completely dry and then tidied me up I lay back, totally drained - and must have fallen asleep.

I woke as the first rays of the sun touched the plane and though disoriented for a few seconds, as I remembered where I was, the memory of what the girl had done for me also came flooding back - and I began to look forward to seeing her, hoping she'd agree to meet me some time so I could, as she might have put it - 'Fully appreciate the pleasures of the special services available to a gentleman with discerning tastes'.

But though I checked every hostess carefully, asked one of them how many hostesses were in the crew and then double checked them all, then in growing frustration even scrutinised the faces of the few Asian passengers on board, I was left with no alternative, she wasn't on the plane, she simply didn't exist, she had been nothing more than an incredibly potent wet dream.

But if that was the case why wasn't there something to show for it? My climax had been so massive that my trousers, certainly my underpants should have been heavily caked with dried semen - but when I went to the toilet to freshen-up before landing, there wasn't a trace. At least there was no trace of dried semen, what I did find, circling the base of my cock, was a dark red ring.

My initial reaction was mild panic, that I'd got some infection - but when I cautiously wiped it with some tissues, some of it came off on them. Then I remembered the colour of the lipstick the girl had been wearing - it was identical!

I thought to myself - 'Welcome to the Orient, lands of mystery and adventure.'



Supernatural Ch. 03



Chapter 3

DOMINANCE

This account concerns George, an altogether reasonable man. Reasonably attractive to women, with a reasonably well-paid job in a reasonably profitable, medium sized company. Having been both married and divorced he had spent the previous few years enjoying, to greater and lesser extents, the company and the sharing of beds with upwards of half a dozen similarly inclined young women. He explained that in the months immediately before his recounting this story to me he had been seeing just one of them, a woman by the name of Jean.

It seems that the relationship had proved to be rather different to the previous, mutually playful liaisons, and George had sensed the potential for it to develop into something deeper. At first that idea had made him somewhat nervous, the last thing he needed was another failed marriage, but then he realised that the idea of hopefully spending whatever there was left of his life with her actually had a great deal going for it.

She was intelligent, attractive, with a great sense of humour. Their political and ethical leanings were just a little out of sync, enough to provide ongoing challenging discussions, without being so far apart they inevitably turned into rows. Her work was as equally challenging and demanding as his, but as they had proved on a couple of occasions they were both able to arrange things so they could occasionally enjoy a long weekend together. And, like him, she owned her own apartment, and its value was within a just a few thousand of what he expected he would get for his.

Although the first flush of pure, unadulterated passion had cooled down just a little, George admitted that their sex-life was, by any normal standard, fantastic - but, he had recently detected what he thought might in time turn out to be a problem. On several occasions he'd found that their love-making seemed to be verging on the brink of turning into something of a wrestling match. His experience with women had given him a confidence as to his techniques and far from ever getting any hints of any one of them being disappointed or dissatisfied he had on several occasions received grateful praise. So when Jean began less than subtly resisting one or other of his approaches and gave the impression she wished to take over the lead role he found that having his masculinity threatened in that way had been rather unnerving. 

George was confused, and not a little despondent, neither understanding what had been going on on those occasions, nor knowing how to bring the matter into their general conversation so that whatever was behind Jean's actions could be discussed and resolved.

And it was with those things still loudly playing on his mind that George set out one Saturday afternoon to find an appropriate present for her upcoming birthday. Although he didn't know exactly what he wanted he thought he knew the kind of thing she would like. Her apartment was decorated with many unusual objects that reflected her eclectic tastes and George felt sure he would be able to find something along those lines in one of the many antique bric-a-brac shops that seemed to have spawned by the dozen in recent years.

But a few hours later, having browsed through at least half a dozen shops, and seen several hundred objects, he wasn't feeling quite as confident. Most of the things he'd seen had been either; too big, too grotesque, too expensive, or simply inappropriate for Jean's taste.

His wanderings had taken him into a part of the city he hardly knew and as by then he was feeling in need of either a large cup of hot, strong coffee, or a stiff drink, he was actually looking for somewhere that offered either, when he stumbled across one more shop. Its small display window was actually facing onto what appeared to be nothing more than a heavily littered service lane, and its entry door was angled so sharply that in hindsight George was amazed that he'd even noticed it. 'Last one, then a drink, then home.' he said to himself as he tried the door, and was actually surprised to feel it opening.

Inside it looked like any other of the shops he'd already visited, larger than he'd expected it to be, but its space just as cluttered with furniture and objects, most of which looked remarkably like many of the things he'd already seen. At first he'd thought there was nobody in attendance, that he'd caught the proprietor at an awkward moment and made a point of making a little more noise than he otherwise might have done. But after a few minutes browsing and intermittent coughing he noticed a movement in the far back corner of the shop, and when he turned to look in that direction, found himself face to face with what he described as - 'The most ethereally beautiful woman I've ever seen!'

When he described her George drifted off into almost flowerily poetic language from which I had to distil what I thought were the essential components, and as best as I could tell from his description of her looks and dress she didn't fit neatly into any particular ethnic grouping or nationality. She was tall, with jet black hair that was smoothed up and over the crown of her head, then held tight before being allowed to splay across the top of her back. Her face had a pale coffee coloured complexion and was dominated by a pair of large, luminously dark black eyes, above which were narrow and almost dramatically arched eyebrows and below a somewhat prominent nose that was nevertheless both straight and slender.

She was wearing a virtually all-enveloping gown of what appeared to be heavily embroidered, ochre coloured silk, with complex patterning that had been picked out in brilliant shades of green and turquoise.

Perhaps the strangest part of his description was that George said that although the gown covered her from neck to ankle and gave not the slightest hint of whatever shapely curves there might be beneath it, he still somehow knew they would be mouth-wateringly breathtaking.

'Good afternoon, may I offer you refreshment, perhaps a coffee?' she said in a warm, lightly accented voice.

'Oh, well thank-you, a coffee would be a life saver.' George stammered in reply.

'Please continue browsing while I make it, I will only be a few minutes.' The women said before disappearing through some curtains at the rear of the shop.

Apart from anything else, having been offered what he'd already decided he needed George could hardly turn around and leave, but even if he hadn't been offered anything he knew he'd have stayed on in that shop, if only for another chance to take a second look at that phenomenal beauty. So, trying to push to the back of his mind both the image of her face and the impression he'd received of the body beneath it and concentrate on the reason for his being there, George slowly moved around amongst the pieces on display.

He still hadn't seen anything that caught his attention when a few minutes later the woman returned with a tray carrying two small cups and a large, silver coffee-pot. 'Come sit down.' she said, indicating a small, ornately decorated table at the rear of the shop.

Having sat opposite her George tentatively sipped the steaming black coffee, it was thick and strong and almost stickily sweet, but the flavour was unlike any coffee he'd previously tasted. 'Turkish?' he asked politely.

'No, Persian, but there are similarities with many coffees now coming from that region. Do you like it?'

'Oh yes, very much. And it's just what I needed. Thank you again.' George replied before draining his cup and gratefully accepting her offer of more.

'So, may I ask just exactly what are you seeking?' the woman asked in a low, softly lilting voice.

'I wish I knew, it's a present for a lady friend, for her birthday.' George answered.

Then, he said, she gave him a long, searching look, her coal-black eyes holding his in an unblinking gaze for what seemed like a momentary eternity. Finally she said. 'Aah - perhaps this might help us find something appropriate.' and reached behind herself for a deeply polished walnut wood box that had been on the shelf of one of the many cabinets against the back wall.

Having unfastened the lid and folded down the side nearest to her she carefully lifted out what appeared to be a large, ostrich sized egg that rested on a stand made from the same timber as the box that had held it. But unlike the normal opaquely crazed surface that such an egg would have this one had an almost opalescent appearance and as he focussed on it more closely George thought he could even see tiny iridescent flashes of colour being reflected up through it.

'Let us see what this will tell us, but first, a little more coffee?'

George gratefully accepted another refill of the deliciously strong brew, then the woman cleared everything but his cup and the odd looking egg off the table-top. 'Now, just place your fingertips lightly against it.' she said as she reached for his hand and guided it towards the egg.

George said he had no idea why he did as she asked; in his still logical brain he already knew he'd been suckered, the woman's hospitality had been merely softening him up for this stage of the scam that she no doubt hoped would end up with him leaving with some vastly over-priced piece of junk. But although that thought was there in his mind there also seemed to be another level of it at work, a level where what she said made some sort of sense, made some normally unused connections in much older and deeper parts of his brain.

He remembered her eyes; sensing they were staring even more deeply into his, remembered feeling the amazingly soft warmth of her hand as she touched his fingers, then the cool, yet somehow burning surface of the egg, and the sudden brightening of the flashes of colour he could see inside it - then everything went, as he described it, 'a little fuzzy.'

He said he felt as though the woman was somehow 'reading' him; reading his thoughts, his memories, even what it was that moved and motivated him.

Then, some time later he realised that the furniture and bric-a-brac that had previously surrounded him had vanished, in fact the entire shop had. He found himself standing in the centre of what at first glance seemed to be some sort of bath-house; mosaic tiled walls and floor, a domed ceiling above and ahead of him an apparently marble archway beyond which he could see nothing but heavy shadow. And adding to the impression the place was bath-house was the fact that he was standing there quite unashamedly naked.

The only reassuring aspect of the inexplicable scenario was that the beautiful woman from the shop was still with him. But even she had changed, at least what she was wearing had; gone was the heavily embroidered silk gown, in its place was a much simpler white cotton one which, although far from transparent, gave him an even stronger impression of the shape of the unbelievably desirable body beneath it. He was about to ask what on earth was happening but she lifted her hand and lightly pressed her finger to his lips, at the same time urging him gently backwards with her other hand until he felt himself pushing against something softly unyielding.

'Be patient, all will become clear.' she said before turning and taking a box from a recess in the wall beside him. Setting it down on the floor at his feet he watched as she opened it and took out what looked like nothing more than a pair of lightly padded manacles. 'Patience and trust.' she said as took his wrist and slipped one end of one of the manacles around it, then did the same with the other wrist.

Bemused helplessness seemed to have taken over all his normal resistance and he felt her lifting each compliantly unyielding arm in turn and fixing the manacles to something in the wall behind him, then kneeling to do the same thing with his ankles, spreading his legs well apart before also securing them to the wall. 'Now we can begin.' she said as she edged herself closer and slid her hands slowly up the inside of his legs.

Although the feel of her fingers was caressingly soft his body's initial reaction was one of apprehensive trepidation and he felt his still flaccid penis shrink defensively smaller. But when gentle finger-tips began stroking and fondling both it and his limply hanging balls his reactions shifted into a more normal sexual response and he felt additional blood flowing to meet the demands of his quickly rising erection. He looked down to find her darkly luminous eyes looking up at him. 'Impressive!' she said, glancing down at his still rising member. 'You can be justifiably proud of the way you have been endowed, and I'm sure your woman appreciates it too. So perhaps it's just a question of your attitude as to what you do with it.' she added after a momentary pause.

Even if he had had known just how to verbally respond to the criticism that the assertion implied, both the skilfully insistent way she was arousing him and the hopeful anticipation of what unknowable delights she might still have to give him had made him so breathlessly excited he was quite unable to speak. So he ignored what she'd said and simply gave himself up to the enjoyment of the sensations coursing through his body.

But then before doing any more to him she reached to one side and he saw she was holding what appeared to be a narrow length of silk. Quickly creating a loop in one end she slid that forward over his cock, slipping it under and around both it and his balls, tightening it and then firmly winding the rest of the silk around and around the base of the shaft before finally securing it.

Having checked the tightness of the binding the woman continued doing what she had been before, she was obviously in no hurry, and from the smiling upward glances she occasionally gave him, seemed to be deriving some personal pleasure from what she was doing for him. Her soft hands and gently insistent fingers continued caressing and stimulating him until she was finally satisfied that he was fully engorged, then, curling the fingers of one hand under the tightening sac of his balls, she used the other to press his stiffly rearing cock downwards, and, having moistened her lips, she leaned forward and, exquisitely slowly, took him deep into her mouth.

It felt as though each and every one of the nerve endings down the length of his rigidly swollen cock were firing simultaneously, blanking out any other sensations in his brain and, as every single muscle in his body tightened in response his eyes clamped shut.

Even though he knew it was impossible, because he could still feel the exquisite sensations her mouth and tongue continued giving his straining cock, it seemed that he could still hear the woman's voice speaking to him. He could tell from her tone that what she had to say to him was important, something he needed to learn, so although he continued to be wracked by the exquisite pleasures she was giving him, he did his best to concentrate on her words.

'In the time and place I come from the society was very different from yours; there it was the women who held most of the decision-making power. All people respected the ancient wisdom that had accrued to women and recognised that although their fertility was the essence of its source that had been augmented and greatly expanded by what they had learned down through ages as those responsible for bringing up the children.

Through their role as carers and nurturers of the coming generations the women had long previously learned both the need for, and the rewards to be gained from both sharing and giving. And many customs involved the exchange of gifts; perhaps of special delicacies or small objects that had been lovingly crafted. These attitudes pervaded all the village's activities, including the individuals' private lives. So the initiation of sexual activity and what actually went on between them was just as much the woman's role as it was the man's.

But of course the power of the phallus was as equally well understood as the woman's fertility and in the village's worshipful rituals it often took its rightful, central place. In fact it was the custom, at the mid-winter solstice, to allow the young maidens to select a youth who, during the coming year, would represent the embodiment of the phallic deity. Once chosen he was bathed, oiled and feasted, before being carried to the hut that was the symbolic abode of the phallus god. Then for the first three months his only role was to deflower each of the maidens whose blood had begun to flow, each of whom was allotted a certain number of days during which her function was to seek to ensure she became impregnated with his seed.

When that time was over the bearer of the phallus could roam about the village and choose from all the other females who were still of child-bearing age. Then, a month before the next mid-winter ritual another great feast was given, after which the youth was confined to the hut and from then on was provided with nothing but a little water and for the next two or three weeks the mature women used all their wily skills to arouse and empty his phallus as frequently as possible. All knew he would die before it was time to select the next youth and great honour was bestowed on the woman who was able to stimulate his final ejaculation.

The death and re-birth of a god is a common enough aspect of numerous faiths, what made ours different was that the god was not only both chosen, and ultimately killed by the women, but that both things were done with love, at least physical love. Of course to enable the women to literally fuck a healthily strong youth to his death meant that they had to have acquired rather extraordinarily skilful arts of love-making. And I suspect that the men of the village were smart enough to accept that having one of their young men dying each year was actually a small price to pay for a life-time of being a recipient of the benefits of such skills.

In your world things have been reversed, men have the power and in many places women have to struggle to even have their voices heard. I make no judgements as to the rights or wrongs of that situation but I do assert this much - that in many ways many, many men have lost as much as they have gained, and very, very few have even dreamed of the blissful joys they have missed as a result of that exchange.'

All that time the woman's hands and mouth had been treating his cock to the most amazing stimulation, and without even looking he could feel that the combination of that, plus the tight binding around the base of it must have made the rest of it almost grotesquely bloated. But just then he felt her mouth slipping back off it and even before he had time to give a cry of protest, she was rising, pressing the soft curve of her belly against him. Then he felt them both falling, slowly, backwards, whatever he was fastened to was carefully lowering them into a horizontal position.

Once flat the woman made love to him, and although his manacles meant he was totally helpless to respond the way he usually would have the way she did what she did to him and the intensity of the sensations he experienced made all the delights that he had felt earlier seem like no more than faintly tickling pleasure. Her voice was silent during the whole of that time and the only sounds he heard were his own gasping grunts as the ecstatic thrills continued to surge through him. And only when she was certain that his system could take absolutely no more, she reached down, flicked loose the silk binding and allowed his by then much needed release.

But, in the last moments before she did so he heard her voice just once again, saying - 'Perhaps now you have learned that before what you give can be truly appreciated you yourself must have learned to accept the gifts that another would give you.'




Supernatural Ch. 03



As the final convulsion tore through his body George's mind went blank - and when he'd recovered he found he was back in the corner of the dustily crowded shop, his finger-tips still resting lightly against the strange egg. On the opposite side of the table the woman sat, in the embroidered silk robe he had seen when he entered.

He blinked, shook his head in attempt to clear it, and saw her smile. 'Some people have dreams, is that what happened to you?' she said sweetly.

'I - uh, I'm not sure - maybe, I suppose it had to be a sort of dream. But...'

'It's better if you ask no questions, just accept. But now, as to that gift you were looking for, I think I have just the thing for you, for both of you.' she said as she again reached for something on the cabinet behind her.

George found her use of the words 'both of you' intriguing, but when he saw what she was holding he was too bewildered to make any comment. He immediately recognised the box, it was the one she had held in his 'dream', the one containing the padded manacles.



Supernatural Ch. 04



Chapter 4

RETRIBUTION

It was a relatively long walk to the shopping mall, but he'd learned from experience that when he was just 'window-shopping', as he liked to think of it, not having the car could have its advantages. Sometimes to complete his 'research' he'd needed to take bus trips, which left him closer to home from another direction and when that happened if the car was in the mall's car park it meant he had to make double trips. So, all in all it was just easier to walk and then rely on alternative transport back home. In any case, sometimes, if he was really lucky, there was always the chance that he might spot another 'possible' while actually making his way through the streets.

His last one had been several months earlier and although he could still feel the calmness that always came over him afterwards, he could also feel the whispering tendrils of the need for another just starting to tease the outer fringes of his consciousness. If he was to keep the driving sense of urgency at bay, enable himself to complete the next one as successfully as he had the last, he knew he needed to prepare himself, needed to make use of this relatively tranquil time to thoroughly research potential subjects.

And just those thoughts were quite enough to bring vivid memories of that last one flooding back into his head.

She'd been almost perfect, he'd had to do very little to complete the transformation for her. Of course it had been the unfashionable pigtails he'd spotted first, so few girls wore their hair that way now - and pigtails were critical. And both her hair and eyes had been the right colour - there had been times when he'd had to forgo those details, and he'd found that the resulting calmness was never as strong on those occasions. 

But the tricks he had learned from his previous times had proved to be useful in making all the mundane details run absolutely smoothly. Once he'd spotted her, taking his time to find out more information; which school she went to, where she lived, then pretending to be leaflet dropping so he could follow the postman and remove the mail from the letter-box to find her family's name. Using that made his story that her mother had been in an accident all the more compelling, as did the official looking insignia he'd had made that he stuck in the van's window just before pulling up beside her as she began walking down her street. Then there was the large cardboard carton that he'd flattened and kept in the back of the van, then once he'd reached the industrial area where he quietened and roughly bound her he was able to hide her from other people's sight by dropping it down over her.

Then of course there were the alterations he'd made to the house, the idea of telling the builder it was a wine cellar he was adding to it had been a pure flash of inspiration, as had been picking an essentially one-man firm from the far side of the city to do it. He felt almost certain that by now neither the man nor either of his two labourers even remembered that particular week's work, and even if they did, having paid cash for the job it was doubtful if the activity actually appeared on any one's records.

And apart from the almost perfect physical likeness, she'd been a very good subject, with all the right reactions - lots of crying and pleading of course, as there should have been, but after the first hour or so, very little screaming. Not like a couple he preferred not to think about. No the last one had been very good, undoubtedly the best one so far. Her reactions seemed to demonstrate just how sorry she was for the hurt and humiliation the other girl had caused him. Just as she should be. That in some vague way she understood his need to take retribution for what had been done to him. Just as she should.

But simply making that observation brought his thoughts to a halt, he knew from experience that even the faintest reference to the 'other' could lead to disaster. Such thoughts could send storms roiling through his head, make him reckless, drive him to actions that could be dangerously careless. He'd found that not only could he do what he had to do much more successfully, but the rest of his life was calmer, altogether much more bearable if he kept such thoughts well under control. So he concentrated on looking around, discreetly checking out the houses and gardens he was passing, keeping his eyes peeled for that special someone who might fit his needs.

Although there were people about, and they were mainly females, there were few that were anywhere near the right age, and those he saw were all totally inappropriate; too powdered and painted, too noisily chattering, most of them flaunting their bodies quite unashamedly, and all in all far too blatantly available. His girl could be none of those things, she needed to be sweetly demure, perhaps shyly studious, carrying with her that intangible air of an innocent vulnerability. It was an attribute his senses had gradually become more attuned to sensing as the years had gone by and he no longer had to rely on the merely visual observations he'd had to the first few times. It was true that even though he'd more frequently spotted the girl he needed when she was on her own there had been a couple he'd first sensed when they were with a group of friends, and they hadn't been the quiet ones, hanging around on the fringes. But even though they had been as talkative as the others they'd still had something about them that had marked them out as being different. Perhaps it was an expression on their face that indicated an underlying compassion, an impression that they would have a greater sympathy for the suffering of those around them, sympathy coupled with a preparedness to make some form of self-sacrifice to alleviate at least a little of that suffering. Sympathy and self-sacrifice for someone like himself.

In some dimly lit corner of his mind he still hoped that one day he'd find that one girl, that extra-special girl who would completely fulfil his deeply buried need, the one girl whose charity would fully and finally assuage the bitter pain of that long past event. The one girl who would rid his mind of the memory of the laughing belittlement, the taunting scorn and disparagement that the first one had heaped upon him. The girl who would drive out those dreams and memories - and make sure they could never return to haunt and rehurt him.

But the day held a double disappointment for him, not only didn't he glimpse even one 'possible' during either the walk or the approach to the mall's entrance, but once inside he found the main concourse had been taken over by some kind of display. His normal practice was to buy a magazine then settle himself down at one of the various coffee and snack bars around the perimeter of the area. From there he had a good view of the passing parade and could quietly survey the shoppers and time-fillers as they wandered to and fro or went up and down on the escalators to the floors above.

Even when he didn't find a 'possible', which was most days he went there, he still got a low level buzz of enjoyment from what he was doing, from what he was contemplating, from knowing that nobody could guess what was going on inside his head. But in spite of the pleasure he could get from doing that there had been several times during the recent weeks of calmness he had sat there actually ignoring the girls who were parading themselves. Instead of watching them, mentally auditioning any of the 'possibles' that were passing by, he'd actually been reliving parts of that last time, that oh so very good time.

But although she had been good in so many different ways she had left him with one question he hoped he would soon be able to answer.

With all of the others he'd not actually climaxed until after they had gone to their rest - as he liked to think of it. But with the last one his final, and what proved to be a truly spectacularly explosive orgasm, had coincided with the last few desperately shuddering convulsions of her body, and that, he thought, may have been the very thing that had made it seem so much stronger than those he'd ever had before. So he needed to find out if it was that timing that had done it, or if it had been a purely coincidental effect, that in fact it had been the girl and the rest of her almost perfect reactions that had made it so much more intensely satisfying.

If it proved to be the timing that was the key he wasn't at all sure just how to go about perfecting that, but the effect had been so fantastic that if it was the explanation he knew he would have to try.

But now it seemed that the answer to the question would have to wait, his hopes and plans for this day seemed to have been thrown into complete disarray by the erection of the display that took up most of the main concourse area. However, having nothing better to do he wandered disconsolately towards it and as he drew closer he realised it was nothing but a series of interconnected partitioning units, and it was the large sign at the entrance that provided the explanation. It was an exhibition, a display of the works of members of a local amateur art society.

His initial reaction was 'How boring, nothing but a collection of clumsy daubings.' But then he realised something; at the junction of each of the partition units there were gaps, if he was inside, looking out, he would still be able to watch those passing by, there was still a chance that the day might not be a total waste.

As he had half expected, once inside he found very few others examining the exhibits and most of those were doing little more than giving them a passing, cursory glance. To cover his actual purpose he did likewise, pausing to look at a few paintings while trying to work out the best place to position himself. The layout of the exhibit was complex; here and there were small areas set off from the main path, each one apparently dedicated to a single artist and it was in one of these that he caught sight of one particular painting.

At first it was its sheer size that attracted his attention, being several times larger than most of the others and taking up almost all of the area the partition unit provided. But then, having somehow been drawn almost compulsively towards it, he caught sight of the girl in the middle-distance of the strange landscape. And then, once he took a closer look, she held his totally undivided interest.

It was her, the last one, each detail of her face and general appearance were far too similar to be just coincidence.

Some distance away, sitting opposite each other across an old, oilcloth covered kitchen table sat the two elderly women. In the far corner of the small darkened room the paraphernalia of their work remained in an untidy jumble of strips of canvas, half-used tubes of paint, uncleaned brushes, candles, numerous jars of unpleasantly smelling mixtures, and several, to others, quite unidentifiable objects each had long ago brought with them from the old country.

The untold number of hours the women had spent comforting each other in recent weeks faded into unimportance as they felt the hoped for vibrations, they looked up at the same moment, staring unemotionally distantly into each other's eyes. 'It is him.' one said in a flat, dispassionate voice. The other merely nodded her agreement. 'Our sweet Marietta will soon open the gates to receive him.' The first one added. 'And then may he burn forever.' The second one finally responded in a fiercely cold voice.

He drew closer, ignoring the dark, slowly moving grey-green river that dominated the foreground, and the luridly red-skied sunset behind the bare, sootily blackened trees in the background, seeing only the girl standing on the opposite bank. Seeing how her eyes locked onto his, sensing how strongly she was willing him to cross over to her.

The look in her eyes brought memories of the ecstatic relief she had given him flooding back; he felt nerve endings tingling, then his whole body tensing at the strength of the spontaneous erection he realised he'd immediately developed. And, at the same moment he knew she was wanting him, wanting him to join her, to let her help him repeat the experience she'd given him, and maybe, provide the final resolution he'd been so desperately searching for.

Driven by that deep-seated, all-enveloping hunger - he stepped forward, initially ignoring the icy fire of the dark river's flood.



Supernatural Ch. 05



Chapter 5

349

'Are you sure you don't want me to come Carol? You know I would much rather be there with you, and without the car how will you get there?' her mother said in a voice that couldn't hide her genuine concern.

'No thank you Mum, I think I'd prefer to be alone, at least at this stage. It's early days yet and it's quite likely the whole thing will just prove to be a false alarm. I know how hard it is for you to get a day off, especially at such short notice, and the 349 bus goes right to the door. Anyway I'm planning on going to see that movie afterwards, you know, the one you said you didn't like the sound of.' Carol replied with an attempted smile.

'Well be sure to ring me, you know I'll be worrying, even if you want to pretend you're not.'

'OK. Now you'd better get a move on or you'll be late.'

A look of resignation replaced the worried frown that had previously creased the older woman's face and she hurriedly moved the last few items from one handbag to another before bending to kiss her daughter goodbye, leaving Carol alone with her thoughts while she finished her toast.

The brave front she had been putting on for the few people she'd told was finally tiring and it was a relief to know that before the end of the day she'd at least have a time-table to add to her other all too often weakening defence mechanisms. Her doctor had outlined what she could expect from the specialist, then what procedures would follow if the worst came to the worst. But of course what he couldn't do was give her precise time-scales for each step she'd be taking and in some ways it was the indefiniteness itself that was at the heart of her concerns. She felt certain that once she had a series of dates she could mark on the calendar the whole thing would somehow become much more bearable.

But the timetable wouldn't help her with Martin, quite the reverse. She still wasn't sure just why she had excluded him from the short list of people she had confided in, so had been unable to answer that question when the others realised he didn't know. Each had in their own way told her how supportive they felt sure he would be, how certain they were that it was precisely times like this when she most needed to allow his all too apparently sensitive nature to come to the fore. Assuring her she'd feel better equipped to deal with whatever eventuated if she let him cosset and care for her.

What they didn't know, because she hadn't yet told them, was that she and Martin had an unresolved issue of their own, and she felt sure that he would, at least subconsciously, see this as yet one more reason why she was still unwilling to do as he'd suggested. And as at that stage they had been sexual partners for nearly a year Carol really didn't know exactly why she was unwilling to agree to move in with him.

Seeing him several times a week and nearly always having sex was fine, going away together or stopping over at his place for the occasional weekend was too. She enjoyed their lovemaking, but actually moving in implied a quite different commitment, at least in Carol's mind it did, and there was something, something as yet indefinable, that made her hold back.

Perhaps this morning provided her with a good opportunity to seriously think through just why she was having such a problem with making the decision. There was the bus trip, then the probably lengthy wait in the consulting rooms, and right then the idea of using that otherwise time of foreboding to think about something other than the possible outcome seemed like a very good one.

That decided; she cleared away the breakfast things, made a final touch-up to her make-up, collected the referral letter and her x-ray, then headed out the door and walked to the bus stop.

It gave her an usual feeling to be standing on the opposite side of the road to where she would have been normally, to be heading away from the city rather than towards it. From that position even her view of the all too familiar street was somehow strangely disconcerting, almost foreign. Not only were the selection of shops different but their frontages seemed oddly misaligned, and even the street signs and the advertising hoardings' content were unfamiliar. Then of course the frequency of outbound services was minimal by comparison with those going the other way and Carol found herself wondering where those missing buses actually went to. When there were so few heading out of town what actually happened to the almost continuous stream still heading into it. Was there perhaps some subterranean parking area where they spent the working day, waiting.

As her thoughts seemed to prefer idly wandering it took a positive effort of will to make herself concentrate on what she had earlier decided she should do, consider what reasons might be preventing her from doing as Martin had suggested. 

Not only her mother but also every single one of her girl-friends said she'd been incredibly lucky to meet him; he was kind, considerate, undoubtedly affectionate and seemed to think she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He was intelligent, already had a very good job and felt confident there were excellent prospects of early promotion that would give him an even better income. Although they didn't agree about everything in life they had both already proved they were each quite capable of tempering their attitudes to things where they did differ.

So what was her problem? What held her back from giving him the answer he wanted? After all it wasn't as if he had asked her to marry him, to make that strong a commitment - though she felt sure that would follow in due course.

And on top of all that, why hadn't she told him about this appointment, why had she confided in others, but not him?

But she was no closer to resolving even the simpler of the two questions when she finally caught sight of a bus coming towards her and having confirmed it was going the way she needed it to she gladly put the vexatious issues to one side while she stopped and then boarded it.

There were very few people travelling but those who were had scattered themselves amongst the seats and as she searched for one where she could sit on her own she found her eyes caught by a young man who was already blatantly staring at her from the very back of the bus. Although pale his blue eyes were so bright they gave the impression they were lit by some internal light, and his gaze was so fixed that even from that distance it gave her the feeling he was attempting to see down into her very deepest thoughts.

Perturbed and unsettled she hurriedly looked away, but as she turned to sit down several rows ahead of where he was she found her brain had still retained an image of more than just those piercing eyes. His general appearance and choice of clothes would normally have meant she wouldn't have even noticed him; the short, spikily gelled hair and garish T-shirt branded him as exactly the kind of male she wanted nothing to do with. Even being close to someone like that in a queue or confined space always made her uneasy. Yet even as she glanced out of the window at the increasingly quickly passing buildings she found herself unable to dismiss either the latent image, or the sensation that those eyes continued boring their way into the back of her head.

Those feelings continued to disturb her all through the luckily relatively short ride to where she needed to get off and as she rose to ring the bell Carol forced herself to resist the temptation to give a quick backward glance to see if in fact he was still watching her. But as the bus began pulling away she weakened and turned to look up at its back window, she was more than surprised to find that the rear seat, the one where he'd been sitting, was in fact totally empty.

With a strong sense of unease she swung around to see if he'd actually had the impudence to get off after her, but no, she was alone. Puzzled, she even checked to see if he'd covered his intentions by crossing the road, but again, no, other than a pair of young women pushing their prams into the small park, there was nobody.

Giving herself a mental shake Carol walked the short distance to the clinic but even once inside, after the administrative formalities had been completed and she had the time to do what she had originally intended, to think through her problems with the Martin decision, Carol found herself instead still perversely recalling the image of the young man at the back of the bus.

The most disturbing aspect of her involuntary recall of his image was just why it should be so firmly imprinted, why his vaguely menacing likeness should be virtually haunting her. There was nothing about him, except perhaps those piercing blue eyes, that triggered anything but unease, and she could not remember a time when any other all too brief memory had become so firmly stuck.

She forced her thoughts out of that rut and did her best to concentrate on Martin instead. Sweet Martin. She couldn't imagine him ever causing any woman the sort of anxiety that the young man on the bus had created in her. Martin still believed in those now old-fashioned values; opening doors for women, all too ready to give up his seat on public transport, and not just for women but even obviously frail, elderly men, and still peppered his language with many 'please' and 'thank-you's'. All in all he was a caring, kindly considerate man, and although he might not actually spark lustful emotions in most of her friends, he quite obviously adored her and they certainly envied her relationship with him.

And that brought her back by a meanderingly circuitous route to her original question, why was she so reluctant to give a positive answer to his all too reasonable question?

But try as she might to find a single reason for her uncertainty, she couldn't and she was no closer to a resolution when she eventually heard her name called by the clinic's receptionist.

A motherly looking nurse took her through to the surgeon's room and having once again checked her details and examined the x-ray he carefully explained both the procedure and what would happen later. Once certain Carol understood the details of what she'd been told he left his nurse to assist her to remove blouse and bra while he made the preparations necessary for the needle biopsy.

Apart from the sting of the local anaesthetic Carol found the actual procedure far less uncomfortable than she'd previously imagined, but just being there, in that place, with those people doing what they were, brought the reason for her appointment much more sharply into focus than until then she had allowed. Breast Cancer! A savage disease; if not always actually life threatening, then at least potentially, physically disfiguring. And she could well have it!

A thought suddenly crystallised - was this why she'd been reluctant to tell Martin what she was doing this morning, or perhaps the reason why she had delayed answering his question? Was she uncertain of what his reaction would be to the prospect of her becoming either sick and incapacitated or damaged and scarred? But even as she thought it she also felt certain that was one question she actually knew the answer to. A crisis like that would bring out even more strongly all those underlying attributes she'd already counted. He would see it as a perfect opportunity to fuss over her, to indulge and molly-coddle her, in fact he and her mother would undoubtedly come together to form a compassionately caring team.

But perversely that thought sent an involuntary shudder through her body, just the idea of being the object of their cloying attention was the very last thing she wanted. Although she had no clear idea of exactly what she did want, she certainly knew what she didn't.

Carol was brought back to reality by the sound of the nurse's voice telling her the procedure was over, that they would be sending the biopsy for testing and that she could ring to talk to her about the results on the following Monday.

Even though both the surgeon and the nurse had treated her gently and kindly, and their words and voices had been nothing but sympathetic, there was still a matter of factness to what had happened. But then, Carol knew, to them it was no doubt just one of many, many similar procedures they'd perform during the day. She also knew that there was no point in letting her emotions take over, that could wait for the intervening days to pass, but even so, as she left the clinic a little of the control she had been maintaining slipped just a fraction and she felt the tears trying to well up from somewhere behind her eyes.

The combination of just those few drops plus the sudden glare of the sun made her vision blurry and resisting the temptation to wipe her eyes she had to stop and blink hard several times to clear it. But when she had, and she looked up, the first thing she saw clearly, was him. The man from the bus, standing on the opposite side of the road, and he wasn't just standing there, he was looking directly across at her, staring, apparently waiting.

Of course she would have to cross over so she could catch the return bus, at least that was what she consciously told herself, but even as she mentally recited the words she knew there was another, albeit still deeply underlying reason for her action. Then as she stepped up on to the footpath he approached her. 'How are you feeling?' he asked in a voice that implied he somehow knew exactly what she had been through.

Carol was both confused and bewildered by her own reactions to this total and potentially unpleasant stranger; under normal circumstances she would never have even crossed the road, but having done so, when he attempted to speak to her she would have brushed him off, walked briskly away, but she did neither. Instead she looked up into those piercingly blue eyes and quietly admitted. 'A bit shaky.'

'Is that all?' he asked with a quiet smile, but, not waiting for an answer he reached for her hand and added. 'Let's take a little walk, the park looks nice.'

She looked past him, into the park, seeing it for the first time. He was right, it did look nice, less formal, less sterile than most suburban parks, and although she really didn't know why she did so, she turned and went along with him. They walked in silence and Carol was conscious of the warmth of the sun shining down on them, of the woody scent of the surrounding trees and shrubs in her nostrils, of the reassuringly firm feel of his hand-hold. But there was also something else; she could feel some other, still indefinable sensation slowly, almost imperceptibly spreading through several different parts of her body.

And to add to that oddly disturbing feeling was the fact that the further they walked the more she was forced to admit that her first impressions of the little park had also been wrong. Although there was no noticeable change to the structure of the pathway they were following the area of trees seemed to have become extended, what she had taken to be a small suburban park now appeared to have led in to a long established woodland.

'You must be feeling thirsty.' he said as he pulled a small silver flask from the back pocket of his jeans. 'Let's stop and sit over there for a while.' he added, pointing to a patch of thick grass that Carol hadn't previously noticed.

She readily went with him and as they sat he passed her the flask. Carol drank a little, hesitantly at first, but then, finding the liquid coolly refreshing, gratefully took a little more. 'We haven't told each our names.' she said as the passed the flask back again.

'That's true, but then names are only labels that someone else has hung on to us, aren't they. What name would you like to give me?' he replied with the same quiet smile he had given her earlier.

The question amused her and Carol returned his smile. 'I'd have to think about that. But don't you want to know what my label is?'

'Oh I don't much care for labels; for one thing they're too small. You can't take in the totality of a person with just a small group of letters.' he replied, his blue eyes fixing hers with an almost hypnotic intensity as he continued. 'I see you as; strong, self-assured, intelligent, and also very attractive - but as yet also uncertain, tentative, unsure of your own ability to make the right choice. How could a one name-label possibly encompass all of that?'

'I see, and you know all of that from just looking at me?' Carol replied, feeling her cheeks flushing faintly as she absorbed the more complimentary attributes he'd mentioned.

'I have a reputation for having a skill with such things.' he answered. 'And for having ways of guiding people like you to reach down inside themselves to draw out those qualities that will hopefully either enhance or further enrich their lives.'

His voice had dropped to an almost mesmerisingly low-pitch and as he finished speaking he reached one hand forward to slip it behind her, then as she felt his fingers slowly combing through her hair, they also gently turned her head. Carol felt herself shiver as his lips brushed lightly against her cheek then a strengthening tingle as they moved to her mouth. They were warm, soft, moist and although their pressure was feather-light she felt her own moving, unhesitatingly parting in welcome.

The kiss felt so good, so divine, so altogether perfect, that she just wanted it to continue, wanted there to be no end to either it or the indescribably blissful feelings it sent spiralling through herself. Yet even through those first few moments of unexpected and completely unsolicited pleasure she couldn't help herself comparing this kiss with the others she knew, Martin's. His gave her undeniable emotional pleasure, she couldn't deny that, and sometimes even succeeded in beginning to arouse her passions. But, if she was totally honest, it more often than not took a great deal more than just a few kisses to stir her enough to get her physically ready for him. And she'd never, with anyone, ever felt the way she did at that moment, after just a kiss, after merely a few seconds of contact.

To prolong those sensations, and perhaps, to somehow, maybe, even intensify them she turned herself towards him, leaning forward as she pressed her own lips against his, then, cautiously at first, sneaked just the tip of her tongue between them.

She felt his tongue snaking forward more determinedly as their mouths opened wider, its impetuous movement was both delighting and thrilling, so, when she felt the slight pressure of his hand against the still tender curve of her breast, she shuddered with pleasure, and not as she might have expected, discomfort.

His kisses and caresses continued; those electrifying lips moving to her eyes or her ears whenever one or the other briefly broke for a quick breath of air, his fingers all that time maintaining their slow and gently undemanding fondling. Carol was suddenly aware that while he had been doing that she had somehow unconsciously dropped her free hand down on to his thigh. Even through the rough material she found she could still feel the ridge of muscle beneath, and discovered she was also asking herself a series of disturbingly strange questions, questions that had never before even entered her head. If his kisses and caresses were so potent, then what could be expected if she allowed things to go further? Then, what exactly lay beneath those jeans? And how might he compare physically with Martin? Would it be longer, thicker? She found she was even allowing herself to wonder exactly what he might do with it?

Even while the questions were continuing to chase around each other she felt the sensuous touch of his hand on her leg, felt it moving under her skirt, felt his finger-tips tracing patterns on her skin, felt them slowly moving even higher. Her fingers automatically tightened, gripping his thigh as the liquid flame of his touch licked upwards, worked its way down through her flesh, searing its way to the very depths of her.




Supernatural Ch. 05



It was suddenly important that the questions be answered; so, with no thought at all as to who else might just be out walking, and without even breaking the kiss she turned the rest of her body just enough to free her second arm, reaching down for his zip and buckle, hastily tugging and unfastening, then yanking and pushing the stiff material downwards. She felt the hard length of him brush against her wrist as it sprang free, then gasped as his fingers reached their final target. Clamping her mouth tight against his Carol let her tongue probe deep into his mouth as she curled her fingers around him, and even through the swirling mist of her quickly rising excitement, found herself gauging and comparing it with what was already well-known to her.

It was undoubtedly thicker, perhaps even a little longer, but what immediately amazed her was its vigorous vitality, even when Martin was truly excited his penis never felt so hot, so alive, never seemed to be so packed with so much strongly throbbing energy. She let her fingers glide lightly up and down its length, feeling its powerful response and finding herself being thrilled by its instantaneous reactions. But those thrills were immediately subsumed by others, almost overwhelmed by the thrills that were shooting up from what his fingers were doing to her own body.

Then she heard her almost unrecognisable voice crying out - 'No!!!' - as he pulled away from her. But before she had the time to even consider his reason for doing so she felt his body sliding down over her, pushing her skirt higher, pulling her briefs down, then slipping his hands beneath her and lifting her.

The effect of what his fingers did had been spine-tingling, but what his tongue did was sheer magic, and she all too willingly gave herself up to its spellbinding activity.

Even as he was taking her towards what she knew would be a simply gut wrenching climax Carol found she couldn't help herself trying to visualise what she still hadn't actually seen. Tried to imagine how he'd look as he crouched there above her; his rigidly swollen penis jutting forward, perhaps quivering and jerking as his own excitement became even stronger as he felt her responding to his licking and probing. And she found herself hoping that image was actually how it looked.

But the image all but vanished as the first waves of a deeply roiling climax began surging up through her; engulfing all thought, sweeping away all memories, all cares and emotions, its sheer physical power leaving not even the tiniest space for any other thought or sensation.

He continued until he was certain the slowly waning peaks had subsided but then, as he moved to lift himself above her Carol did something she'd never been confident to do with Martin. She pushed him aside, rolled him and then straddled him. 'Let me!' she gasped hoarsely.

'Of course, it's my pleasure.' was all he replied as he wriggled himself into a more comfortable position.

Although she badly needed to feel it inside herself Carol took the opportunity to glance down at him, at his until then felt, but as yet unseen cock. It looked as big and just as angrily engorged as she'd imagined it might and for a moment the thought of taking all of that seemed a little daunting. But, mentally whispering, 'nothing ventured, nothing gained', she began to do so.

In fact she was surprised, surprised and thrilled at how easily it slid into her. There was a moment when she thought it might be stretching her too much, that the pleasure she was feeling might turn to pain, but it didn't, the pleasure merely intensified. Then she gave herself up to the all too fantastically spectacular sensations she was experiencing as she rode him. She sometimes did it slowly, using sheer will power to prolong the electrifying feelings that sent coursing through her body. Sometimes more quickly, in some ways finding his corresponding upward jabbing thrusts even more stimulating. All that time watching him, watching his muscles working as his rhythmic actions flexed them. Watching his face, seeing there what she felt sure were the same tense expressions of ever-rising, pressure fuelled excitement that must also be contorting her own.

Some time later and for the first time in her life, Carol experienced what she'd thought only happened in movies, a reciprocal climax. Just as her body gave her its warning of what was impending she saw his face tautening, heard his breathing turn to short, staccato gasping, felt his cock swelling inside her as his body began thrusting even more powerfully. Then although she knew his semen was jetting deep inside herself, only the wildly dizzying whirl of her own accompanying climax really registered.

She continued rising and falling long after she knew he was totally spent, her body tightening its grip of the still firm length of him as her movements gradually slowed. The pleasure was continuing and the feelings were so utterly delightful - and from the look in his eyes and the way his hands gently stroked and caressed her she felt sure he was sharing it - she was more than happy to do anything that might maintain and extend it.

But eventually all of her senses were sated and she gratefully fell forward, pushing her arms beneath him and clasping him tightly, as though if she didn't he might simply slip away.

'You were amazing!' Carol heard him whisper in her ear.

'I've never done anything even remotely like this before and I've never been so, well, so assertively pushy I suppose.' she replied rather guiltily.

'I'd say that was merely your true nature breaking through. Perhaps you've been keeping it too constrained until now.'

Carol recognised a definite ring of truth in his suggestion. Although she had refused her mother's offer to accompany her that morning, and she had so far managed to stall giving Martin the answer she knew he wanted, she was still basically building her life around other people's expectations of her. All too often the decisions she made were based only on what she knew others wanted, and even when she wasn't being totally compliant her actions were limited to the range of options others prescribed. She couldn't remember when she had done something that was, well, for lack of a better word, totally selfish.

'You could well be right, and I certainly enjoyed what we did.' Carol added with a barely controlled giggle.

'I could tell that, and I hope you remember how good things sometimes require you to be a little more risk-taking.'

'That makes you sound a bit like a teacher.' she replied as she finally slid off him and took a quick look around before she got up and began straightening clothes.

'Perhaps that's how you should think about me, that is if you ever do.' he answered as he pulled up his jeans and refastened them.

'You mean you don't want to see me again, you were just after a quick fuck?' Carol responded heatedly.

'You must think what you will Carol. I just hope you remember what I think you have learned.' he replied as he stood, then bent to give her a light kiss before turning and walking towards the faint mist that suddenly seemed to have enveloped the nearby trees.

Carol was momentarily undecided as to whether or not to follow and give him a more impassioned tongue-lashing, but then watched in absolutely stunned amazement as his body seemed to quite literally dissolve into the mist. Her mind whirled dizzily as damp tendrils of mist reached out and touched her, then equally bewilderingly, suddenly cleared, and she found herself standing alone at the fringe of the small park she had originally thought she'd entered. Just a couple of dozen metres away was a young, pram-pushing mother with a couple of still stumbling toddlers beside her, and still further off a small group who were apparently setting up what would apparently be a joint picnic.

Although still dazed and confused by the sudden change in her surroundings the questioning look of the approaching mother gave her provided Carol with enough impetus to make a move and with a quick, hopefully reassuring smile she began to head towards where she had entered the park. The short walk to the bus stop gave her time to re-examine in detail all the events of the morning, from her first glimpse of the man on the bus and even though there was no logical answer to what she had experienced there was at least one thing she was sure of, she knew what she'd be telling Martin.



Supernatural Ch. 06



Chapter 6

HEAVENLY HELL

When it comes to the supernatural I have always maintained a healthy scepticism - not going so far as to flatly refuse to accept that some very strange things can and have happened but not automatically believing everything that is in print either. I suppose I accepted that - as I think Shakespeare said, 'There are more things in heaven and earth...' - recognising that we just do not have scientific answers for everything, yet. As to religion, I would have to describe myself as being a non-practising Christian - in fact, apart from the odd wedding or funeral I hadn't been to church since my Sunday school days. That was until Maggie came on the scene.

It's amazing what a man in love will do to impress his woman!

Maggie's people originally came from Wales and had been strict Baptists, although some of the fervour had lessened with the passage of time, Maggie was, by my standards, devout. So, when I decided that she was the one for me it meant making quite a few changes to my life-style, changes which I was sure would all be worthwhile if they meant I could spend the rest of my life with her.

Apart from anything else I had previously had a healthy sex-life with a series of enthusiastic girl-friends - that was not on. Kissing and hugging were O.K. but even intimate fondling was out of the question with Maggie. What made it all the more difficult to take was that she was such an incredibly sexy woman - 'simply made for love-making' - as someone, somewhere once said. A 'pocket Venus' - quite short but with everything in perfect proportion and her various curves simply cried out to be held, squeezed, licked and sucked. Her hazy-blue eyes held that classic 'come to bed' look and when we talked about sex she openly admitted that just the thought of being able to make love with me made her both hot and wet - but that we'd just have to be strong - and wait. And no matter which of the many different approaches I tried with her, her upbringing got in the way and even after our engagement we remained chaste - and I, constantly frustrated!

Then, a few months before the date we had decided on for the wedding, the company I worked for offered me the chance to go to the parent company in the UK for a course that would, if I was successful lead to a pretty big promotion. It was a marvellous opportunity and we agreed that I had to take it.

There was a flurry of activity after we decided and my employer agreed, that Maggie and I would in fact marry before I left and more still when her parents then offered to pay her fare as our wedding present. So, after another talk with my boss it was agreed that I would take some leave and that we would have our honeymoon in Britain, before the start of my course in Birmingham.

To cap it all, Maggie's aunt and uncle, who still lived on the border of Wales, came up with an offer of accommodation for us for the week before the course and for Maggie to stay on with them whilst I was in Birmingham, it was all too good to be true.

We just said 'Yes please - and thank you!' to everything...

Those few weeks before the wedding flashed by in a blur of activity. My job, travel arrangements, wedding plans, problems, compromises, it was never ending and, at times I began to wonder if it was all worth it - many times I was tempted to say to Maggie - 'Let's delay it, take our time.' - then either I'd see her face shining with happiness or think about finally, actually making love with her - and I'd find renewed energy from somewhere.

The wedding day itself is even more hazy but at last, after all the fuss, hassle, ceremony and speeches - we were married, alone together in the hotel room, with twelve hours ahead of us before we had to leave for the airport for the flight to Britain - and with nothing to do but make love!

We did just that...

We unpacked the few things we would need for that night and were standing, sipping a glass of champagne that someone had arranged for us and I saw in Maggie's eyes a look that I had never seen before - a look that told me exactly how she was feeling - very, very sexy. She didn't finish her champagne, instead she disappeared into the bath-room and then was gone for what seemed like an age. 

I emptied my glass, stripped, put on the bottom half of my pyjamas, took them off again, put on a clean pair of underpants, took them off, wrapped a towel around myself, felt like an idiot and took it off too - just as the bath-room door opened! She just stood there for a while and we both simply stared at each other.

I had by that time known and loved Maggie for over a year and had seen her in everything from a track-suit to a swim suit, in low cut dresses, short skirts, everything except naked. She still wasn't that but her effect on me couldn't have been more dramatic if she had been.

She wore a long, sheer night-gown and its colour, a pale shade of apricot, gave her skin an additional glow. It was gathered tightly under her breasts, accentuating their upswept curve and cut low to expose their fullness. With the light from the bath-room behind her, I could clearly see the exciting silhouette of her curves and, when she stepped forward into the bed-room light, both the dark tipped circles that capped her thrusting breasts, and, when my eyes drifted lower, even the shadowy triangle below.

I simply stared - felt my mouth get dry, my hands damp and heard the increasing pace of my heart-beat as the sight of her roused the passions that I had held in check for so long. Then, as I felt my cock beginning to stiffen, I saw that Maggie had noticed the movement and her eyes looked down to stare long and hard at it.

'You're beautiful darling!' I managed to stammer.

'And you're impressive!' She replied, a little shyly, then came towards me and into my waiting arms.

We didn't get much sleep that night. I found out that Maggie was actually as enthusiastic for sex as any man could want a woman to be and that now that we were married, free of most of her earlier inhibitions. We couldn't try everything in one night of course - but we certainly covered a lot of ground!

We left for Britain the following day and during an uneventful flight managed to catch up on some of the sleep we had missed out on the previous night. Our first week was spent in doing the tourist trips in an around London - days of sightseeing and nights of love-making, it was a simply wonderful time for us both. 

For me the only blot on an otherwise perfect picture of love and sexual harmony was Maggie's attitude to oral sex. No matter how I approached it I couldn't get her to either accept my cock in her mouth or my lips on her pussy. On the several occasions I attempted to do either she quickly changed her position, and I wasn't prepared to risk spoiling an otherwise perfect honeymoon by getting into a serious discussion about it. It was something that could wait for when we had more time, so we could quietly talk about it. But I admit that there were many times when I simply longed to feel her full lips around my cock-head and to see her body's reaction to the sensation of my tongue on her clitoris.

During our stay in London we had spoken by phone with her aunt and uncle, Beth and Charlie and they were obviously looking forward to seeing us and I felt sure that the week with them, away from the sights and temptations of London would help me too, give me time to get into the right frame of mind for my course.

So, at the end of that week we took the train and they were at the station to meet us and drive us to their home, in what turned out to be a genuine, country village. They were a nice couple and made us both immediately feel very much at home with them. Shortly after we had arrived and while we were sitting in their lounge-room, drinking tea of course, Charlie leaned over and handed me a key, obviously a hotel room key.

'This is our wedding present to you.' He said, grinning as he saw the puzzled expression on my face. 'We've made a reservation for you at the hotel - well its an old pub actually - but very comfortable and we feel sure you'll like it.'

'Why Charlie?' I asked, confused. 'I thought we were staying here, with you.'

His grin broadened. 'Two reasons - one, we thought that coming from down-under you'd enjoy it. It's very old, parts of it dating back to the fifteenth century actually and it has lots of old-world atmosphere - it's even supposed to be haunted! But, apart from that - being on your honeymoon and all that, well - we just thought you might like, you know, some time on your own.'

Maggie and I looked at each other, we were both blushing violently.

'It's very, very - er, kind of you both. But really, Maggie and I would, that is, we'd...'

'Say no more Peter.' he interrupted. 'Maggie will be here while you are in Birmingham, we'll have plenty of time together then to catch up on the family. Anyway. 'He went on, his grin getting wider still. 'We don't expect the two of you to stay locked-up together for the entire time before you go off on your course. We'll all have dinner there this evening, show you around a bit, then tomorrow we can get out and give you a chance to see some of the countryside around here.'

Turning to Maggie he said with a more serious tone. 'You'll be coming to chapel with us on Sunday of course Maggie. What about Peter?'

'Oh yes, I'll come too.' I said. 'If that's all right. I'd like to see the local church. If the pub - I mean hotel, is fifteenth century, how old is the church, er, chapel?'

'About the same actually. There was one there before that of course, that one went back to the Norman times and there was one earlier still, before that. That's what happened here, new religions took over the old - and their church sites too - well, places of worship I suppose I should call them. Who knows how long people have been gathering at some of these sites to perform their duties to their God or gods.

You'll probably find the preaching strong.' He continued. 'Our man's a bit of a fire and brimstone merchant, but a good man under all that. Anyway, we'll be glad to see you there Peter, all of us.'

The pub had originally been a coach house and still had the old courtyard and covered gateway, oak beams and panelling all over the place, with dusty corners filled with brass and copperware - just what I always imagined an English pub to be.

The bed-room was magnificent, taking up the entire space above the old gateway, with lead-light windows almost the full length of one wall. But there was a draw-back that Maggie and I both spotted as soon as we walked in the door - two, single beds rather than one, big double one. I knew her look of disappointment was reflected on my own face but Charlie had obviously just asked for the best room, without actually seeing it or asking specifically about the sleeping arrangements.

We naturally said nothing, our romping might be a bit restricted but we would still be more free than if we had been at their house.

Then, as though it had been planned, Maggie began her periods on the Saturday evening, earlier and much heavier than usual she said - but assured me that it was merely her body reacting to the new and hectic sexual activity. She was in fact in a lot of discomfort so we refrained from making-love that night, though she admitted that she felt especially hot for me and I saw her watching me with an unusual intensity as I got myself ready for my lonely bed.

Charlie had been right when he said that the preacher was a bit strong and though it may have been my imagination I felt many of his remarks were in fact directed at Maggie and I. His eyes seemed to burn with a fierce light as his finger swung across the congregation, pointing and stabbing at individuals as he warned of the dangers of various temptations and sins - and especially of the retribution that would follow for those weak enough to give in to the devil and his workers.

When he got to 'the pleasures of the flesh' his intensity grew even hotter and I felt his glare and his finger stopping, pointing in our direction more times than could be purely coincidental. I remember to this day the sound of his piercing voice, his body shaking with passion as he bellowed - 'Beware the succubus and incubus, for they too are His demons and will surely drag you through the gates of Hell. Even as your body writhes at their delights - your soul will writhe in the agonies of the pit, for all eternity...'

Afterwards, Beth and Charlie were eager to introduce us to everyone, their 'cousins from down-under' were the celebrities of the week and I felt as though we had met the entire village by the time I had shaken the last hand. I couldn't help noticing the hungry look in the eyes of several of the men as they openly stared at Maggie - and there were one or two girls that I felt sure would be more than open to an invitation from me. So much for resisting the 'temptations of the flesh', I thought.

That night Maggie was still not feeling up to making love and though it seemed ridiculous after only such a short period of deprival I found myself in fact feeling very horny and frustrated. 

Watching her as she sat at the dressing table getting ready for bed - the tight curves of her buttocks and the sensual line of her thigh, the ripe swell of her breasts as she brushed her hair - combined to produce a throbbing erection that I felt sure needed only the faintest brush from her fingers to set it off. I found myself watching her face, her lips - imagining the sensation of them slipping wetly over my cock-head. I was tempted to lock myself in the bath-room and relieve the growing pressure myself.

Perhaps I should have!

My dreams were both erotic and scary - full of naked, writhing bodies, some of the faces I recognised from that morning's congregation, performing every act of sex I had ever heard of. With the preacher, naked too and sporting a gigantically erect penis, futilely screaming his words of warning at all of us.

I woke with a start, his voice still ringing in my head - I must have been thrashing around in my sleep because I had thrown off all the bedclothes and, as I slept naked, felt a definite chill in the room. Before I could cover myself I heard, or rather, felt a strange hum all around me and, though at first I thought it was just my eyes adjusting to the darkness, the room gradually becoming lighter.

Slowly the humming intensified and then the air itself appeared to become lit with a strange, dim glow that grew slowly ever more noticeable. Then, as though blown by a draft, the glow began to drift across the room, moving closer to where I lay, getting steadily brighter. At the same time it began swirling slowly around and around in the space between my bed and the window.

I found that I was beginning to feel positively cold - but continued to stare as the humming grew stronger and the light brighter, the charged air now spinning faster and faster.

Then I saw that it was encircling a figure, a figure that became less indistinct as time passed. It was as though I was straining to see someone through layers of rapidly billowing, lace curtains.

Suddenly the vortex that swirled around the figure was gone, the humming too - but the light remained, bathing the body as though from a complex of spotlights. The room, that had grown steadily colder and colder was now pleasantly warm again and my entire body tingled - not just the skin but even the flesh, muscles, my very bones felt strangely 'alive'. The blood that flowed through me seemed different, renewed, recharged - and I was acutely aware of my sex, my deep-rooted maleness and, at the same time, of a need that had begun to well powerfully up from somewhere very deep inside.

As the air cleared, in the light that bathed the figure my wide staring eyes saw - a woman. But a woman the like of which I had never seen before!

Tall, almost as tall as myself, facing me - her legs apart, hands on her hips - proudly naked - a slight smile on her blood-red lips. Her skin, milk-coffee coloured was sheened, as though oiled. Her thick, jet-black hair fell in waves and curls to below her shoulders, the longest tendrils just brushing the rigidly swollen nipples that tipped her breasts. 

Her breasts! High-set, so large that I felt sure I would need both hands to hold each one of them, yet jutting straight out and up from her body, the light reflecting from their sweeping curves. Her tiny waist and lightly muscled stomach led my eyes down to where a dark, thick triangle nestled between her splayed thighs - and then on down the long, long length of her legs. Though I couldn't yet see them I knew that her buttocks would be tight globes of flesh, that already my fingers itched to grip, even as I stared at the rest of her glorious, sex-charged body.

She waited for what seemed like several long minutes - obviously enjoying my eyes feasting on her, reading the primitive urges that filled my brain - then she lifted one hand towards me and as she did, my cock, that had been steadily filling, suddenly stiffened and rose from between my thighs, quickly becoming steel-hard, pulsating and aching for her body.

Her smile widened fractionally as she took a step towards me and when she looked directly into my eyes for the first time I saw that they were a cloudy-green, bright - yet at the same time filled with a hunger, a hunger that I didn't understand. 

She came slowly closer and my cock throbbed and jerked as she approached, its head now bulging monstrously. Her eyes left mine and stared down unblinkingly at it, her smile became more purposeful as she came alongside the bed, knelt and, as her hands closed around the length of me, she lowered her lips then, slowly, engulfed me!

Though my balls were already tightly swollen with unspent semen and only a little earlier I had been sure that the lightest touch would trigger an immediate orgasm, she somehow held back the rapidly growing flood. Her fingers and sharp nails stroked, squeezed, scraped my upwardly straining shaft and aching balls while her mouth and lips alternated between deep, swooping dives, her throat opening to accept the entire length of me, and tight-lipped bobs that merely allowed the super-sensitive head to feel her hot, wet suction.

Then one hand curled around my balls and, as she began to rhythmically squeeze them they finally released the accumulated semen, at first as an explosive burst, then growing to a torrent that gushed, white-hot through me to erupt in a seemingly endless series of wracking convulsions, deep into her draining throat.

Every muscle in my body was locked rigidly, my hips arched high up off the bed, my face contorted with the unbearable pleasure. As the searing intensity of the spasm continued on and on I threw my head from side to side in blissful agony - and, for the first time since waking, saw Maggie...

Between her high bent legs, was man! His head hard up between her thighs, his tongue obviously deep inside her as his mouth sucked feverishly on her pussy. She too was in the grip of an orgasm, her body too was arched quiveringly, her face screaming soundlessly as he took her to previously unknown heights of ecstasy.

The man was a twin of the woman that was even then sucking the last drops from somewhere deep inside me - muscled, skin glistening, his strong hands gripping her buttocks, lifting her to his devouring mouth as he drained her.

I was torn between the torment of seeing him like that with my Maggie and the indescribable, uncontrollable pleasure that still gripped my own body Then Maggie's wide-staring eyes caught mine - and I read there exactly the same message.

But - when the exhausting orgasm finally subsided I discovered that it was not over. There were a few, short minutes when, as I lay, gasping for breath, I tried again and again to get up off the bed and get to Maggie - and saw her trying to do the same thing. But, though I found that I could move around on the bed, some force restrained me when I tried to actually leave it.




Supernatural Ch. 06



Then, when I again felt the hot touch of the woman's fingers exploring my body, fondling my cock, I felt it, incredibly, springing to life once more. The drive to reach Maggie lessened as the need for me to have the woman became increasingly urgent and demanding - until, as she wantonly offered herself to me, I could think of nothing else but plunging my rigid shaft deep inside her.

I had to have her - and I did! Doing things with and to her that I had not even fantasised about before. My ever-raging cock buried itself in every opening, fold and bend of her willing body. I came up her arse, in her hair, between those magnificent breasts - as well as hard up inside her cunt and between her suctioning lips again. It seemed that as soon as I had finished jetting one hot load of semen, yet another was filling my bruised and aching balls and my battered cock was once again straining, demanding its release.

In the short moments of sanity between one bout and the next I looked across at Maggie, usually to see her in the throes of a similarly wild act with the man - his cock doing to her what mine had or would to my partner. But what a cock! When I first saw its massive size I felt a dread of what damage he would do to her - but as she enthusiastically took it, all of it, again and again - and more especially when I saw her wrapping her fingers around it, sliding her lips down over it and then eagerly taking it deep down into her throat - the fear began to turn to envy.

Once or twice Maggie's brief respite coincided with mine and I saw the pleading in her eyes and understood that she too was manipulated by exactly the same power that held me.

Then another wave of urgent need rose and each of us was once again plunged into our own heavenly hell.

Eventually, just as they had come, they went - as the faint glow they left in the air dispersed I saw through the window a pale band of light, low in the sky - but almost immediately fell into an exhausted sleep.

I was woken by the insistent ringing of the phone. Charlie, calling from his office, to see what we had planned for the day. My dull, disconnected response brought a chuckle from him.

'Hectic night by the sound of you. Lucky fellow! O.K., we'll leave it for today, ring us later and let us know what your plans are then.'

Charlie and Beth? Plans? I felt as though I had been drugged - could it all have just been a dream? Of course it had to be a dream! But how could a dream leave me so weak, drained? I looked down at myself, my cock - red, swollen, almost raw! Could I have done that to myself, in my sleep? I looked across at Maggie, still sleeping, apparently peacefully. I went over to her and for some reason eased back the sheet that covered her.

Blood! Thick, clotted blood covered her thighs and had totally soaked the sheet beneath her! I didn't stop to think about causes or even an explanation - I simply acted.

After filling the bath with water, leaving the taps running a little, I carried her to it. She was only slowly waking but as I lowered her bruised and torn body into the water she winced and began to start to come to. I gently sponged the blood off her, letting the red-stained water run away as the bath continued filling.

When I had finally removed all traces from her I left her to soak in the warm water and turned my attention to the bed. Stripping off the sheet I saw that luckily there was a mattress cover and though it too was bloody, the mattress beneath was not. Taking the stained linen to the bath-room I found that Maggie, though obviously bewildered was now soaping and washing herself more thoroughly - she looked up, her eyes filled with tears.

'What - what happened Peter?' she asked, her voice full of her confusion and her fears.

'I don't know. Just try not to think about it for now. I'll need the bath - for these.'

She realised what I was carrying and seeing the colour, her expression turned to one of horror.

'Mine?' she gasped. I nodded. 'Peter, it was a dream. I had a dream - didn't I?'

'I had the same dream darling!'

Dropping the bundle, I knelt beside the bath and wrapped my arms around her as she began to sob and cry uncontrollably.

Within a couple of hours we had left, on a train for Birmingham. Having squared the chambermaid for the sopping wet stuff in the bath-room, paid the hotel bill - in spite of protestations from the Receptionist that it was to be charged to Maggie's uncle - rung Beth, telling her that I had received a telegram from my company to say that the course had been brought forward a week and that they wanted Maggie to accompany me.

I didn't really care what any of them thought of us. I just had to get Maggie - and myself away from the hotel, the village and whatever else there was in the place.

Maggie always refused to talk about what happened that night, even mention of Uncle Charlie brought on a tight-lipped silence. But one good thing came of it, from then on she never showed the slightest reluctance in trying any sexual position, and even became quite a devotee of oral sex, loving both what I did for her, and turning into a truly expert fellatrix.

As time passed and after our bodies and memories healed I found myself from time to time trying to recall the intensity of the pleasure that the succubus, or whatever it was, had given me. Sometimes, when things between Maggie and I were tense, as they occasionally are for any married couple, I considered what I would be prepared to give for one more such night. I haven't quite decided yet - but wonder what would happen if, or when I did!



Supernatural Ch. 07



Chapter 7

A FATEFUL STOP-OVER

I was an area sales manager for a well known pharmaceutical company at the time, a demanding job that meant I was away from home for three or four days just about every week, spending one or two of those visiting my own customers and the others accompanying our local representatives, all of which meant I spent a fair amount of time living out of a suit-case in a series of motels. As the months passed I settled into a routine, developed favourite places to stay and it was only when a change of plans required an alteration to my itinerary that I was forced to try somewhere new.

It was as result of one of those changes that I had one of the most incredible, absolutely unbelievable experiences of my life and to this day I have no really satisfactory explanation for what actually happened.

I had received a call from my boss telling me that a colleague of mine had been taken ill and asking me to divert to a town I normally didn't visit, to deliver some urgently needed supplies to the small hospital there. Because of the distance involved it would be evening by the time I got into town so it was more practical to stay the night and as I hadn't visited it before it would be a question of luck as to what sort of accommodation I could get.

In fact I nearly didn't get any, I found I had arrived in the middle of the annual agricultural show and that two of the three motels were already fully booked and although it turned out that the third had one room left, I got the distinct impression they were reluctant to let me have it for some reason. But the woman behind the desk relented and everything else seemed fine, the staff were friendly, the room nicely furnished and although it was late when I went into the dining-room and most people had already finished their meal, the waitress said the cook would be happy to take care of me and I had an extremely good meal.

As I strolled back to my room I was trying to decide how to spend the remainder of the evening, to finish a report I had to do, watch a bit of TV or read for a while. Although the book seemed to be becoming the firm favourite I was still undecided as I went into the room and, before turning on the lights, went over to the window to close the curtains.

That was when I saw her.

Even though it was dark outside I could see that the motel had what appeared to be a second wing, separated from the one I was in by a narrow strip of grass and, presumably to provide some degree of privacy, the rooms in each wing were slightly off-set from one another - but as she had the lights on in her room and she hadn't drawn the curtains, I was able to see into it. Actually I could only see about half of it but that happened to be the half that included both the bed, on which she'd put her suit-case and the closet in which she was putting her things.

She was gorgeous, quite tall, with short, dark hair and wearing a black, figure-hugging dress that accentuated the curves of her breasts and hips. Not wanting to be caught spying on her I stood beside the edge of the window, so if she did happen to look out of hers there would be little chance of her seeing me watching her. She was obviously in no hurry, in fact there was something almost dream-like about her movements and as I continued watching her moving around as she put her things away, I was surprised to find myself beginning to get physically aroused.

Once she'd finished unpacking she disappeared from sight for a minute or two and I couldn't believe my luck when she reappeared and I saw that she'd slipped out of the dress and was wearing just bra and panties. She was even more stunning than I'd previously imagined, and in fact the dress really hadn't flattered her figure, quite the reverse. In contrast to her black hair and underwear her skin was very pale, almost white and as I stared longingly at her I found I could imagine myself touching that skin, almost feel its silky smoothness beneath my finger-tips.

But I really only had time for a quick glimpse of her before she disappeared again and a few moments later another light went on, at a smaller window a little further along the building, which I guessed was the bath-room. I went through to mine, the window was equally small, set high in the wall and the pane was frosted glass. Knowing from experience how steamy motel bath-rooms can get, as I stepped up on to the toilet seat I hoped she'd done what I always do before taking a shower, opened her window - and when I peered cautiously out I saw that she had done just that.

Of course I couldn't actually see much of her, just her head and shoulders but with the image of her body still fresh in my mind I had little trouble imagining the sight of the water streaming down over those sensual curves - and I don't mind admitting that as I pictured that, I felt my cock stiffening.

She didn't stay in the shower for very long and when she stepped out of it she moved out of my line of sight. In the faint hope I'd get a chance of at least one more look before she remembered to close the curtains I went back to the other room and took up my previous position beside the window and I wasn't disappointed, a few minutes later she reappeared - but, unfortunately for me, with a towel tied around her.

She took what appeared to be a cosmetics bag out of the closet and then disappeared from sight again, presumably to get herself ready for bed. I remained where I was, hoping that I would have at least one last glimpse of her, perhaps in some diaphanous night-gown, perhaps fully naked, before she went to bed and turned out the lights.

But I was puzzled when a short time later the lights went off and though I felt sure I would have at least seen some sort of shadow of her as she recrossed the room to the bed, I saw nothing.

I was still staring out of the window, at the dark silhouette of the unlit building when I heard a faint tap on my door, so faint that at first I wasn't sure I'd actually heard it but when I heard it again, that time just a fraction louder, I went across the room to open it. The hall-way outside was also unlit and the only light was the small amount of star-light coming in from the window behind me - but, even in the darkness I knew it was her.

As I opened the door she came forward, pushing me gently backwards and quietly closing the door behind her, placing her fingers on my lips and whispering. 'Sshh darling. Don't say anything, they might hear us.'

I presumed she meant the people in the adjacent rooms and though my head was spinning with questions, when she came into my arms and I felt her body pressing against me, her lips almost feverishly searching for mine, they flew away. 

As my hands automatically slid down her back, cupping the firm globes of her buttocks, pulling her harder against me it was clear that she was naked beneath the light robe she was wearing and that knowledge further fuelled the need that had grown while I had been watching her and as she responded to my kisses and caresses I felt her thigh pressing against the quickly hardening length of my cock.

Suddenly she broke from my embrace and having undone the belt that fastened her robe and shrugged it off her shoulders she immediately began to fumble with the fastening on my trousers. I eagerly helped her, then as she kneeled to take off my shoes and socks and began to tug off my trousers and underpants, I stripped off my shirt adding it to the jumbled pile of clothes on the floor beside us. She remained kneeling in front of me, looked up for a moment and smiled, then using one hand to steady my cock, leaned slightly forward and slipped her softly moist lips over the bulging head.

In spite of her earlier plea, I couldn't stop the low groan of sheer pleasure that escaped as she slid her lips slowly back and forth. But having seen the warning, almost frightened look in her eyes when she heard that, rather than risk her stopping what she was doing to me, I somehow managed to stifle the others that would have normally followed - even when after a few minutes of utter bliss she intensified what I was feeling by cupping my balls and then gently rolling and squeezing them. Her fingers were cool, almost cold and the contrast between them and the moist warmth of her bobbing and sucking mouth heightened the sensations coursing through my body.

Although what she was doing for me was simply wonderful, I wanted more, much more than a just a quick blow-job from her. I wanted to see her body properly, to feel that pale, silky skin beneath my fingers, to suck her breasts, taste her pussy and then, only then, to unload the surging contents of my already swollen and aching balls.

So although it took a lot of will-power to stop her, I reached down and eased her head back, again almost breaking the silence she'd demanded as her sucking lips strongly resisted my gentle push. But I managed it and then slipped my hands under her arms and lifted her to her feet, holding her at arms' length so I could see her properly.

Although there was only the dim light coming in from the window by that time my eyes had become well adjusted to the darkness and there was more than enough for me to see just how lovely she was. Her breasts were even larger than I had thought but though full, their shape was absolutely perfect and I couldn't help moistening my lips as I saw how they arced up and out from her body in gloriously sweeping curves, curves tipped with dark, already stiffening nipples.

As I dragged my eyes up from staring at them I saw that she was in turn staring down, down at my cock, which as a result of what she had done for me was rearing almost vertically, quivering and jerking as blood continued to surge up into it.

I walked her backwards across the room then pushed her gently down on to the edge of the bed, taking time for another good look at her before crouching low and, cupping the weight of one perfect globe, took it in my mouth. The feel of the silkiness of her skin against my face was unbelievably exciting and as my fingers fondled and caressed the firm flesh and my lips began to suck and gently nibble the spiking nipple I felt my body responding even more strongly, my cock straining higher, my balls aching from the pressure of the seething mass gathering inside them.

I could tell that my caresses were fuelling her needs too, as I shifted my attention from one breast to the other I could feel both nipples swelling even more, their tips becoming almost leathery - and as I continued sucking and fondling them her hands gripped the back of my head, holding me hard up against herself.

When I thought her breasts had received more than enough attention I pushed her backwards, so she was lying flat down on the bed with her legs dangling down over the side and looked down at her once again. She really was a feast for the eyes, her smooth, unblemished skin, the taut firmness of her body - and the thought of the damp heat that lay below the dark, crinkly curls of her bush, between her slightly parted thighs, fanned even higher the fire that was by then burning fiercely inside me.

Though I imagine she'd expected me to enter her straight away, I had other ideas and getting down on my knees I eased her legs apart then shifted myself forward between them, lifting them high and resting them on my shoulders. In that position her pussy was not only totally exposed for me but she was virtually unable to resist anything I wanted to do. I bent my head down between the warm softness of her inner thighs - and with the scent of her sex filling my nostrils, slowly began to kiss and lick my way upwards.

I took my time, seeing the first spasms rippling across her belly and it was only when she began to arch her hips up off the bed that I actually reached out with my stiffened tongue and let it slip up between the lips of her pussy. As it probed and began to dart in and out of her, I felt her hands reaching down, clasping my head tightly, trying to draw me up even harder against herself.

When her hips then began to buck with a more urgent rhythm I opened my mouth wide and keeping my tongue inside her, I sucked her entire pussy, tasting the acrid sweetness of her juices before I finally slid my tongue up over the hardened ridge of her tender clitoris, steadily increasing the speed of its flickering as I felt her orgasm rising from deep inside her until I felt her entire body convulsing and she dragged my head still harder up against her pulsating sex as a powerful orgasm ripped through her.

Although she tried desperately to hold me there, I had other plans and while the waves were still rolling through her I eased myself back a little, stood and moved forwards between them, noticing that my cock was then not only grotesquely swollen but also that its darkened head was glossy and sticky with the pre-cum that had been oozing out of it as my arousal had steadily increased. The force of her climax had made her clench her eyes tightly shut but as I moved and stood up she opened them and stared in disbelief when she saw the state my cock was in, disbelief no doubt tinged with excitement as she realised that what she was staring at would soon be forcing its way up inside her still spasming pussy.

Although my own need was becoming urgent I was determined to control it a little longer and holding my cock in one hand I wiped its head over and around her pussy lips and then up across the ridge of pink flesh I could see poking out of her slicked down pubic hairs, watching her squirming in response to the sensations that triggered inside her.

But the tickling of her crinkly hairs and the friction from her clinging pussy-lips on the drum-tight skin of my cock-head soon became too much and I realised that if I didn't want to end up simply spraying semen across her belly I really couldn't delay any longer.

So I helped her further up on to the bed, got up between her widely splayed legs and, as she bent her knees, moved closer and guided my cock between the puffy outer lips, nudging them apart and then, with a slight push, watched it slip inside. I shivered with delight at the sensations that shot back up through the shaft as I felt myself sliding into the velvety warmth of her pussy and she stifled a soft moan as she felt me begin to enter her, tensing in anticipation of what was yet to come - and as she gave herself up to the sensations her body was experiencing she closed her eyes again.

Starting with a series of small pushes, each followed by a pause that allowed her body to adjust to the size of my cock, I edged slowly into her, each forward movement generating exciting thrills for me, each pause giving me a chance to feel the lining of her pussy tightening around the shaft of my cock. And even though it was dripping with her juices it was so tight that my cock felt as though it was being squeezed down a narrow, oiled-silk tube, and the deeper I got the stronger became the thrills.

I started by using slow, firm strokes, withdrawing my cock all the way back until only the tip was inside her then generating excruciating thrills by driving forward, down into it again - and as the exciting sensations mounted, the pressure in my balls became almost unbearable and I realised that without being aware of it, I had in fact been gaining speed, my thrusting not only getting faster but also more powerful with each downward stroke.

Her body began to shudder under the force of my strokes, her muscles flexing as her body began its climb up to another orgasm and at the same time I felt my inner surge begin its unstoppable rush. Then suddenly, the rush became a torrent as my bottled-up semen seared up from deep, deep down, up through my pistoning shaft and I let out an involuntary gasp as it jetted out of me, blasting deep into the heart of her convulsing body.

She lifted her legs higher, spreading herself wider, clawing at me, thrusting herself up as hard as she could, forcing my cock even deeper inside herself - jamming her hand into her mouth to silence the screams of delight that threatened to break from her throat as my cock continued its frenzied strokes and still more of the thick semen pumped into her.

I fucked her until I was totally spent, she was limp and we were both, utterly exhausted.

We lay there, locked together for a long time, I could feel her heart pounding, almost as hard as my own was, her breathing was as ragged, panting as after-shocks of pleasure continued coursing through our bodies, grabbing deep gulps of air.

A little later she opened her eyes and slowly, almost lazily reached up for me, her arms twined around my neck and pulled my lips down to hers for more of her wonderful kisses before we drifted off into a light sleep, our bodies still locked together.

But, some time later still I woke, woke to find her down between my legs and again I felt her long, cool fingers cupping and fondling my balls. She took each of them in turn between her lips and gently sucked them, making them swell inside her cheeks as they began to respond to her exciting treatment and then turned her attention to my cock. While one hand continued to gently fondle my balls, the other took a firm grip of my reawakening cock, squeezing and stroking the shaft, wiping the head backwards and forwards across the soft curve of her cheek. After the draining climax I'd experienced such a short time before I was amazed to feel myself responding so quickly, my cock lengthening and thickening as her caresses re-aroused me.

As she felt it growing she looked up at me and I saw a mischievous glint in her eyes and a wicked grin flit across her face, she licked her slightly parted lips with just the tip of her tongue, then, still staring up at me, bent lower and slowly licked her way up from the base to the tip before slipping her mouth down over the reddening head and tightened her lips in the deep groove below it. She held me like that for a while and I felt her tongue swirling around the super sensitive head as her fingers tightened around the still growing mass of the shaft.

She took her time and was somehow able to hold back my natural inclination to thrust up into the warm wetness of her mouth, her eyes flicking up to watch my reaction to her reflected in the expression on my face. Again I somehow managed to restrain the moans of pleasure as her lips slipped up and down over the bulbous head and her slender fingers encircled the shaft, slowly pumping it in time with the rise and fall of her mouth.

I lay back, giving myself up to her, wallowing in the euphoria her actions were producing for me - until I suddenly became conscious of her pushing me further back on to the bed and, opening my eyes again I saw her climbing up over me, then lowering herself down on to my cock. I saw the purple, bulging head disappear between her wide-spread pussy-lips, then felt the incredible sensation of her drawing me high up into the depths of her sex.

She rose and fell, rose and fell - initially at the same, slow pace that her hand and mouth had used - but, as she felt my need grow even more urgent and her body also increased its demands, she began to quicken the pace. Faster and faster she rode me, her face grimacing with both stress and pleasure as her pussy was forced open wide by the growing mass of me, until suddenly, in spite of the draining mass I'd pumped into her only a short time before, I felt another boiling up inside me.

I heard her give a small, barely controlled gasp of painful delight as I thrust my cock powerfully up into her and I looked up to watch her reaction to her own climax - her head thrown back, her face contorted, her body arched backwards, every muscle taut, her breasts swollen and hard, their nipples dark red, protruding stiffly.

My cock burst high up inside her, jets of hot, thick semen fountaining up into the very depths of her and I felt successive jolts as it pumped more and more out of that seemingly undepletable reservoir inside me.




Supernatural Ch. 07



She seemed to be inexhaustible, virtually insatiable, even when she had drained me she continued her frenzied ride and in spite of the volume of our mingled juices that seeped from her, the slippery lining of her pussy somehow managed to retain a firm grip, keeping my cock semi-rigid. Sweat ran down her face and neck, forming rivulets that dripped from the spiky tips of her breasts, down on to my face and chest, joining mine and running off me and saturating the sheets beneath us.

After several minutes of simply lying there, letting her take her own pleasure, I was amazed to find that the blissful friction of her over-heated pussy was actually restimulating me. A little later still I felt my sexual energy returning and as that intensified, found myself again thrusting up into her, almost as powerfully as she was down on to my re-hardening cock. As she felt my response she looked down at me and gave me a tight, almost grim smile of satisfaction as she then worked herself up to and through yet another, obviously shattering orgasm. I could gauge the force of her convulsions not only by watching her body shuddering uncontrollably but also by the increased strength of the grip her spasming cunt - and as she jammed herself down even harder, that triggered yet another, if smaller climax for me too.

Not surprisingly, after the exhausting intensity of our love-making, we fell apart and slept - at least I did.

When I woke the following morning I felt as though I had spent the previous day doing heavy, manual labour. Turning over, half expecting to find her still asleep beside me I found that half of the bed empty, not only empty but the sheets cool - and realised she must have been gone for quite some time.

I got up and went to the window, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of her asleep in bed. When I looked out I saw a line of flowering bushes and beyond them, a car park! I stared, rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and stared again. There was still no second block of rooms.

Was it possible for a mere dream to be so vivid? I stood there for several minutes, bewildered and confused - remembering the events of the previous evening, trying to find the spot where I'd gone to bed. I couldn't. It was a smooth progression, from the late meal, returning to my room, catching sight of her - and all the wonderful things that had then followed.

In the hope that it would clear my head, I went for a shower and when I saw how raw my cock was, couldn't believe that even if it had all been nothing but a dream, I could have done that to myself without waking.

Having dressed I went for a walk around the outside of the motel, there was still no second wing.

I had such a tight schedule that there was no time to probe further, I had breakfast, went back to my room to pack and it was only when I opened the door to leave that something on the floor caught my eye. It was the belt from the robe she'd been wearing. When she undid it the belt must have slipped from the loops, fallen to the floor and been pushed into the corner when either she or I had opened the door.

I couldn't help myself, I went to the window again - there was still no second wing! Shoving the belt in my pocket I picked up my bags and left.

It was a few weeks before I could organise my trips so I could revisit the town, getting there in mid-afternoon so that I'd be sure of finding a vacancy at the motel. I wasn't certain as to what I might do or achieve but the memory of the events of that night had proved to be so unforgettable that I felt I just had to do something.

Quite naturally, the woman at reception didn't remember me but when I asked if the particular room number was available she gave me a quite startled look, then said that unfortunately it wasn't and offered me an alternative. I accepted that, moved my car to the appropriate parking space and went inside to unpack - and then sat staring at the wall, wondering what on earth I was doing there.

After a while, for the sake of something to do, I decided to go for a walk - but if I'd expected to find there was a second wing after all, I was disappointed, the motel was as I'd found it the morning after. Between the external wall and the local shopping centre's car park there was a strip of grass and a row of flowering shrubs.

To kill a bit of time I wandered around the town for an hour or so then returned to my room, filling in more time before dinner by working on some reports. When I finally went to eat I noticed that along with most of the others, the car space outside the room I'd had the previous time was still empty and when I went into the dining room, found that there were only three other people there. As the others had started before I'd arrived and nobody else came in I ended up having the place to myself and got chatting to the waitress as she cleaned and re-laid the tables for breakfast.

I asked her if they were expecting a late arrival and when she said no and then asked why I should think so, I explained that when I'd requested a particular room the woman at reception had told me that it wasn't available, as I'd noticed there was no car parked outside it, I'd assumed the guests were arriving late. She asked me which room I'd particularly wanted and when I told her the number, I got a similar look to the one the woman at reception had given me then asked why I'd wanted that room.

I simply said that I'd stayed at the motel a few weeks earlier and that as I'd had an odd experience whilst in that room I was curious to try it again.

She sat down opposite me. 'What kind of experience?'

I wasn't quite sure how to put it into words and didn't want her to think I was some kind of freak, so hesitated before answering.

'I saw something, a woman.'

'Can you describe her?' She responded quite calmly and nodded as I gave her a brief description, then asked. 'Where was she?'

'That's the oddest part. I first saw her when I happened to look out of the window, I thought there was a second wing to the motel, she was in a room almost opposite to mine. Later she actually came - or appeared to come to my room.'

'What happened then?'

I felt my face colouring as I answered. 'I'm not sure I want to go into that.'

But she smiled understandingly and said. 'It's all right, you're not the first. She went to bed with you, right?'

I nodded. 'And in the morning you were confused and bewildered when you saw that the room you'd seen the night before simply wasn't there?'

'You can imagine. I thought I'd gone mad, then I thought it must have been a dream - but at the same time knew it couldn't have been.'

'Was it during our local show week that you were here last?'

'Yes, everywhere was fully booked, at first the woman on reception seemed reluctant to give me that room - but relented when I explained I'd tried everywhere else.'

'They try not to use that room, that's why she said it wasn't available when you asked for it this time.'

'Who was the woman I saw? What happened there?'

'Its a few years ago now. The woman was married to one of the local farmers, they had a place about an hour's drive from town. They'd only been married for a couple of years but it obviously wasn't working too well, anyway for whatever reason, she started having an affair with another man, she wasn't his first, he owned a couple of businesses in the town and the women were just a diversion for him - but she obviously fell for him really hard.

I don't know how long it had been going on before the husband found out about it but when he did he went berserk, came into town, shot the lover, then walked to the police station and gave himself up. That happened a week or two before the show and it wasn't until during it that they released the body for burial. The lover's family kept the funeral as quiet as they could and were naturally shocked when she turned up for it. They say that although she was obviously distraught, she looked absolutely beautiful.'

'Was she dressed in black?'

'Yes, a straight, black dress.'

'Black underwear too.' I added.

'So I've heard.'

'What happened after the funeral?'

'She'd booked in here for the night. Apparently she came back, showered, slipped into a bath-robe - then a little later, she killed herself.'

'How?'

'She hung herself.'

I slipped a hand into my side pocket, closed my fingers around the thin strip of material and although I felt sure I already knew the answer, asked.

'Do you know what she used?'

'I believe it was the belt of her bath-robe.'

I brought my hand out of my pocket and let the belt fall on to the table between us.

'She left it behind. I think I was sort of hoping she might come back for it.'

I suppose the story ought to end with the waitress consoling me by joining me for the night - that didn't happen, it's true that I had a restless night but it was only my dreams that disturbed me.



Supernatural Ch. 08



Chapter 8

HEREAFTER

It all began the evening a group of us had got together to have a few drinks as a way of celebrating a mutual friend's birthday. The pub was crowded and noisy with mainly youthful after-work drinkers and as we were all in our thirties and forties we probably stood out in various ways. But apart from having to speak rather more loudly than usual to make ourselves heard over the surrounding hubbub I'm sure most of us were enjoying ourselves. Perhaps as well as the light-hearted banter going on between us there were those who were using the surroundings to recall some of their own earlier mis-spent years, while others were quite obviously more than happy to spend at least part of the time ogling the female half of the throng that milled to and fro.

I don't mind admitting I did my fair share of both things; my ex-wife and I had first met in a club and for some reason the pub's boisterous atmosphere brought memories of those first months together flooding back, and the sheer quantity and quality of feminine flesh that was on display made it virtually impossible for any red-blooded man to ignore it.

So perhaps it was not so surprising that it was nearly an hour before I realised I myself was being watched. At first I thought it had been just one of those situations when two people's drifting eyes just happen to accidentally meet, but when what I hoped would be a couple of purely tentatively exploratory glances in that direction met the same steady gaze I felt I had no alternative but to give the young woman a half-hearted nodding smile. And when it was not only returned, but returned with undoubted interest, I took the opportunity to take a closer look at as much of her as was visible.

She was undoubtedly attractive, very! Her almost blue-black hair, cut in a short curving bob, framed a pale, heart-shaped face that was dominated by a pair of dark, slightly uptilted eyes and a sensuously sexy, ruby-red mouth. The only other part of her that was visible above the table she was sitting at was equally appealing, it wasn't so much that the simple silk shirt matched the colour of her lipstick, but the eye-catching way it clung to the apparently generous curves beneath it.

Even as young man I had been absolutely useless at pick-up one-liners, more often than not having to rely on either a friend, or the girl herself to break the ice for me, but even as the thought that I somehow simply had to meet this woman flashed through my mind, so did the opening gambit I would use. Slipping away from my friends and making my way through the crowd I headed straight for her and, ignoring the three or four people she appeared to be sharing it with, bent down over her table and said. 'I'm sorry to admit to having such a terrible memory for putting names to faces, but we have met before, haven't we?'

Her eyes had been watching as I made my way towards her and she showed neither surprise nor embarrassment at the sheer ineptness of my approach, on the contrary, both the flashing smile and her immediate, if somewhat inexplicable reaction seemed to indicate she welcomed it. 'Yes thank you, I'd love a drink, but I'll come to the bar with you for it.' she said enthusiastically before turning to the woman beside her and saying. 'See you tomorrow Marjorie.'

I was taken aback, but far from unhappy about her response and when she pushed herself away from the table and came around it to join me I was positively thrilled by what I saw. She wasn't particularly tall, at least a good head shorter than I am but, at least from a masculine viewpoint everything else about her seemed to be perfectly proportioned. A fair amount of her height had to be attributed to a pair of what appeared to be disproportionately long, well-shaped legs, a good deal of which were displayed below a short, slightly flared skirt. Then as well as those there were the breasts, which jutted just as prominently as my first look had indicated they might. And linking those two delights was an impossibly small waist and a gracefully curving hip-line. All in all she was undoubtedly something most men would drool over, and I probably risked disgracing myself by being unable to avoid quite openly doing so myself.

She smiled at my all too obvious reaction and moving closer said quite unabashedly. 'It seems we both like what we see.' then effortlessly threaded her way towards the bar and somehow found a space for us.

In spite of how crowded the rest of the bar was our presence appeared to dissuade others from bunching too closely to where we were and it was no time at all before our drinks were placed in front of us. 'We seem to have some sort of no-go area around us.' I suggested jokingly when a few minutes later even a pair of bar-stools became available nearby.

'Maybe we should check our deodorants.' she replied with a sexily deep-throated chuckle as she hoisted herself up on to one of them.

The move gave me a momentary glimpse of even more of her legs and thighs and although it was all too brief I felt sure I had spotted a dark welt marking an enticing division between nylon and creamily gleaming skin. 'Stockings, not pantyhose!' I thought, trying to remember the last time I'd been with a woman wearing those.

For the life of me I don't remember what we said during the next period of time, and although I had both her breasts and legs less than an arm's length away, all I really recall are the sight of her eyes, her mouth and her hands. Her eyes were so dark that it was hard to see where the colour stopped and her pupil began, and when we looked directly at each other I had the impression I was being pulled down deep into their depths, they were literally the 'drowning pools' one hears poets writing about. Her full, ruby-red lips glistened, but somehow gave the impression that the sheen was natural and not just from the latest lip enhancer. But entrancing as those features were it was her hands I remember best. Matching the pale creamy colour I had glimpsed high up beneath her skirt, their skin was milky white, almost translucent, and the long, slender fingers were tipped with neatly manicured nails that perfectly matched the colour of her mouth.

But it wasn't just the appearance of her hands that I found so mesmerising, it was the sexily expressive way she used them to hold, stroke and damn near fondle her glass - and watching their slow suggestive movements made it all but impossible not to imagine having those fingers doing similar things to my cock.

I recall us exchanging names, and that I commented that hers was one I had never come across before - Danith - and although I have no idea how the conversation continued or how it eventually worked around to it, but I do know that amongst the various other things she learned she also discovered that my apartment was only a few blocks from the club. Soon after that I found we were walking, swiftly, hand-in-hand towards it - I don't think either of us said a word during the short time it took us to get there, all I do remember is the sharp, echoing click-click sound of her heels on the pavement.

But once in the lift everything comes into much sharper focus; she was in my arms, our mouths glued together, our tongues searching and twining. I recall the scent of her perfume in my nostrils, the feel of the tight curve of her bottom in my hands, and having the pressure of her thigh rolling against my quickly rising manhood. And I certainly remember thinking that the ride to my floor was both far too long, and far too short - we both knew what we had to do couldn't be done in the lift, but the sensations we were sharing while we were in it were still far too exciting for either of us to want them cut short.

Once inside my apartment I knew that for once in my life there was no need for any even slight pretence at social preamble and I took her straight through to the bedroom, each of us frantically undoing buttons and zips as we went. But, once naked, we both paused, drinking in what until then each of us had only imagined, or hoped for. I certainly wasn't disappointed, and from her expression and the way she stared wide-eyed at my still engorging erection, neither was she.

I couldn't envision a woman's body that more blatantly embodied everything that had ever been written, spoken or thought about female sexuality. And apart from her sheer physical beauty - though that would have been enough to quickly turn most saints into sinners - Danith literally oozed that from every single pore. I admit it took me some time to see anything but the eye-goggling sight of the lush ripeness of her perfectly curving body - but when I did I felt my blood begin pounding even harder. Each part of her seemed to be sending out overtly erotic visual cues; there was the yearning hunger I could see in the dark depths of her eyes, the way the snake-like tip of her tongue flickeringly moistened those ruby-red lips, the rapid rise and fall of her extraordinarily tautly full breasts, the darkly stiffening peaks of both nipples, and the slow sliding movement of her hands up along the insides of the long length of her thighs.

Without looking down at myself I knew that just the sight of her had brought my cock up to its full extension, and that it was quivering jerkily from what I was feeling as I continued staring at her. Then, lifting her eyes from it, she smiled and licked her lips much more lasciviously. 'I know exactly where I want that.' she said huskily as she finally moved towards me.

My head swam with thoughts of all the things I wanted to do with her; I wanted to feel again the exciting rush her kisses had given me, wanted to kiss and lick every single part of her glorious body, wanted to feel the tingling I knew my fingers would experience as they stroked all that satiny smooth skin, wanted to fondle the taut heaviness of her breasts, feel those tightly jutting nipples grazing my palms before my lips kissed and sucked them, taste the bitter-sweet juices I knew I would find up between her thighs. And so much more!

But, at least at that moment it seemed I was to be denied all that - she drew me with her to the bed-side then, leaving her lower legs dangling down over it, lay down and pulled me to her. 'We can do whatever you want to, later - for now, just fuck me, fuck me hard!'

I did exactly that - but I think in some ways I surprised her.

I was in my mid-twenties before I discovered that, at least by comparison with many other men, I needed quite a long time to climax. It took a woman several years older to alert me, a woman who told me that she'd had more than enough experience with a variety of lovers for me to be certain of what she said. Of course tables of the various times from penetration to ejaculation are not something you normally see documented, but although I don't recall where I saw it I do seem to remember reading somewhere that for the average man it takes just roughly three to five minutes of continuous thrusting. I've never been one to believe everything I read - and until that woman made that comment, it had never occurred to me to actually time it - but once she had, I did, and I surprised myself. I found that depending on the level of excitement I was feeling my time was at least double or triple that.

In fact, strange at may seem, this had been one of the many things that eventually led to my wife and I divorcing. When she and I had first started going together she too seemed impressed by my staying power, and once past that initial still exploratory stage of our relationship, often made more than favourable comments on it. But after several years of a slowly disintegrating marriage it became just one more point of irritation for her, became what she called, yet another thing that showed I not only no longer loved her but that I also no longer found her exciting. By that stage I was in no mood to either argue with her, or remind of how differently she had once felt about it...

So, given the excitement both Danith and I had built up between us she probably expected that our fuck would not only be furious, but be as fast as she had asked for - and it certainly started out that way. Whatever it was that had triggered our initial attraction had by then had more than enough time to fire up our much more deeply seated passions; the all too brief time in the lift had added still more fuel, and then watching her strip and offer herself so blatantly had fanned what was by then blazing inside me into a furnace.

Even so, in spite of what she'd said and what I was feeling I still made my first thrust somewhat cautiously, but because her pussy so wet I found my cock driving deep inside her, then when with my second she lifted her legs and wound them around me I accepted she not only knew exactly what she wanted, but expected me to deliver it. 

Casting aside all thoughts of finesse or subtlety of technique, and encouraged by the urgent yanking tugs of her legs, I pounded in and out of her, grunting and gasping as I drove myself to do it fast and hard. For the first few minutes I felt the deliriously shock-like thrills she gave me with her tight and rhythmically clenching pussy, thrills so amazingly strong that at one stage I thought they might trigger a much quicker than usual climax. Then I realised that Danith's was building even faster than my own; I felt her body tensing, saw the unblinking stare she'd been holding me in, glazing, heard her breathing change to a series of faster, almost staccato gasps, and then, with a slowly rising cry of ecstatic release her orgasm overwhelmed her.

Although to avoid foreshortening her pleasure in any way I dramatically slowed my pace, I continued thrusting, then, shifting my position I used a variety of actions that I thought might in fact lengthen her climactic responses; pulling out of her and lifting myself a little higher so I could rub my cock-head back and forth against her stiffly jutting clitoris, pushing just the head back inside and using shorter, faster jabbing thrusts between her puffily swollen pussy-lips, slowly burying my entire cock inside then grinding my pelvis down against her.

It all seemed to work, her cries changed to what sounded like plaintively mewling yelps interspersed with low moans of utter disbelief and although she continued trying to jerk her body up against me I could tell from both her lack of coordination and the incredulous expression on her face that her actions were actually being driven by a far stronger force.

It was only when we both finally felt the first, but still unmistakable signs of my own impending orgasm that she seemed to regain some purposeful response. 'Aaah!' she sighed. 'So you are human! I was beginning to doubt that. Now, you must allow me to do the rest for you.' she added, pulling herself off me and quickly flipping over on to her hands and knees.

I gave a quick downward glance at myself, seeing how her free flowing juices had stickily coated not only the darkly bloated head but even the entire length of the vein-knotted shaft, then felt her hand reaching back and urging me forward to her waiting pussy. 'Hold yourself still, I will provide your finale.' she said huskily as she rocked backwards and slipped it back inside her.

She did just that! Energetically, but apparently using some sort of sixth sense to gauge my swiftly rising need that gave her an uncanny ability to pace and change her movements to meet it. At first she did variations of what I had. Pushing herself back until she had the entire length of my cock jammed in her pussy, then slowly undulating and rotating her hips so its lining grazed against its head. Then pulling forward until she felt her pussy-lips nudging the rim of my cock-head and using just short, sharp movements to push herself back and forth over it.

Although the thrills I had felt while I was fucking her had been fantastic, I think that just knowing that whatever Danith was doing then was purely for my pleasure somehow heightened and intensified the effects. It certainly felt like it! Whatever move she made, no matter how small, sent shock-like thrills surging right through my body, and every now and then, when she did something a little more purposeful, the resulting sensations were actually almost too strong to bear.

Given the total amount of stimulation my body had by then received it's not really surprising that it wasn't too long before we both felt my cock jerking as the pressure inside me began rising even higher. Then, as I felt both the onset of that all too familiar deep rising surge and my achingly full balls being drawn up against the base of my cock, she braced herself and began thrusting her still rhythmically clenching pussy forcefully backwards and forwards.

That did it! A few seconds later my cock literally exploded, erupted, blasting what felt like scaldingly hot jets of supercharged semen deep inside her, again, and again, and again, until I felt certain she'd drained every last drop.

As my knees gave way I reached forward and grabbed her hips for support, holding tight as she forced the last few reluctant spurts out of me, at the same time shuddering and gasping as my body struggled to recover from the forces that had shaken it.

She turned her head and looked back over her shoulder at me. 'You were remarkable; I've never met a man with your stamina, a man who could service me so satisfactorily.' I'd never heard a woman describe love-making as 'servicing', but at that moment my mind was far too busy coping with just restoring normal bodily functions for it to register properly. Then when she swung herself around and began eagerly licking the gooey mixture of semen and pussy-juice off my cock, I forgot all about it.

I had been with women who said they quite enjoyed swallowing a man's semen, and women who were not entirely averse to tasting their own juices when kissed after I had been down on them, but I had never, ever met a woman who wanted to do what Danith was doing - and doing so avidly. She went at it like a kid who has been waiting hours for a promised popsicle, the way a man rescued from the desert might suck on a bottle of water; feverishly, for all the world as though her very life depended on it.

Not that I was complaining! Although I was certain she'd drained every last drop of semen from me, my cock was still at least partially engorged, and, to my surprise, still registering what she was doing as being highly pleasurable stimulation. In fact, well before she had finished the scrupulously thorough cleansing process I was utterly amazed to feel the first faint twitches of its revitalisation. When she also felt that Danith looked up at me, her eyes sparkling with her obvious delight, delight that increased when, not too long after that, we both felt the length beginning to re-stiffen.

'Ah yes, both stamina and potency - the perfect combination.' she said after giving my cock several long, final licks. Then, holding it gently in one hand, she rose and led me around to the side of the bed. 'But even so, you should rest a little, I will find you something to eat and drink, to restore your energy. You will have need of it soon.' she added somewhat cryptically.

I lay back and watched as she padded away across the room, enjoying the cheeky taut jiggle of her bottom, then, allowing myself a little time in which to savour the echoes of all that I had just experienced, closed my eyes.

I must have drifted off for a short while because it seemed like only a few seconds before I felt her settling down on the bed beside me. 'Come, stir yourself, I have found a few things for our refreshment.' she whispered.

When I pushed myself up into a sitting position I saw she had put together a tray of things she had found in the kitchen; a cold bottle of wine from the fridge, some biscuits and a couple of good cheeses, a small bowl of nuts and even some fruit, which she had already peeled and sliced. 'That looks appetising; do you happen to run a catering business as well?' I said with a grin.




Supernatural Ch. 08



'No, but I know what a man needs to restore his strength; protein, carbohydrate, vitamins and sugar. I was able to find all of those.' she replied with a mischievous look as she placed the tray beside me before settling herself next to it.

We chatted as we ate and drank and although I know that some of what was said had to do with our previous sexual encounters there are other things, just as there had been during our time in the bar, that remain at best just an indistinctly shadowy memory. Somewhere in there I think she asked me something about my family, though why that should have interested her is completely beyond me. I also think I told her that my father had died when I was still a young teenager and that perhaps as a result of that my mother then became increasingly religious. That some time later she became a member of a strange, strictly fundamentalist Christian cult, after which I left home and have since then had very little more to do with her. Though of course even in my rather befuddled state I had absolutely no idea why on earth all that could have been of the slightest interest to Danith.

But then I have to admit that some of that lack of clarity as to what we talked about could well be put down to the pleasure of the view I was being given. Danith had made no attempt to cover herself and was not only quite obviously completely unembarrassed by her nakedness but in fact seemed to positively enjoy having me look at her. So like any other red-blooded man, I made the most of it, and just as her earlier display had, soon felt my body responding to the overtly sexily ripe lushness of hers.

Although her face was truly hauntingly beautiful and those dark pool-like eyes were absolutely hypnotic, it was the rest of her that held most of my attention. I admit that much of the time I found my eyes returning to the sight of her firm, up-tilted breasts swaying gently each time she made the slightest movement, but in between I drank my fill of the rest of her. Her slender fingered hands that had held me so delightfully, the long supple legs that I had recently had wound around me so tightly, the darkly furred, but neatly trimmed triangle that blatantly signposted her sex, and even, from time to time an all too brief glimpses of the still moistly glistening pink folds nestling immediately below it.

As I said, in time I felt my body automatically responding, and not just outwardly, but even more strongly, the feelings inside me - as before, I felt just the sight of her was building a deep-seated, almost primitively primal need. And, as she had before, she seemed all too aware of what was happening to me. 'I think we have both had enough of this.' she said some little time later before removing the tray from between us.

'I want to kiss and lick every single part of you.' I said as I reached up for her.

'And you shall, soon.' she replied as she slid herself out of reach, then adding as she tugged my legs across and down over the side of the bed. 'But first, let me do something for you.'

She slipped her hands up between my legs and as one curled up underneath my balls the other took hold of my fully re-engorged cock. 'It is a real pleasure to find one as powerful, and as handsome as this one is.' she said as she gently slid her fingers up and down the length of the shaft. 'I assure you I will enjoy this just as much as I think you will.' she added as she bent her head down towards it.

'Enjoy' is no where near strong enough a word to describe my feelings about the pleasures she gave me in the next few minutes, and what she was able to do with her hands, lips, tongue and mouth was unlike absolutely anything I had ever previously experienced. She was simply phenomenal! And, as it felt as though every single nerve cell in my body was firing in unison, every muscle flexing as tight as a bow-string, my body arched up off the bed, thrusting my rearing cock up to meet her fantastically wonderful, down-swooping mouth.

But if I'd had the capacity to think, and I'd thought that she just going to give me the blow-job of my life, I would have been mistaken. Although she several times took me right to the brink of a climax, each time she felt the tell-tale pulse that heralded its imminent onset surge she cut it off by slowing or changing what she was doing to me. Then, after she had tantalised me like that three or four times she suddenly stopped altogether.

'You said you wanted to do nice things for me?' she said sweetly as she lifted herself up off her knees.

Right at that moment I know I would have foregone even that undoubtedly temptingly exciting pleasure for a few quick jerks of my rampantly straining, pre-cum dripping cock - but I did my best to ignore the feelings raging inside me and, pulling her up on to the bed beside me, took her in my arms.

We kissed, long and hard, and as before, her lips, tongue and mouth, plus the feel of her squirming herself against me, all combined to drive the passion that had all but engulfed me, ever higher. But, even through the swirling mist of almost overpowering carnal desire I remembered what I had said I wanted - and in remembering, discovered that kissing and licking her voluptuous body was, at least for the moment, even more important than satisfying my much less sensuous needs.

So, having rolled her on to her back I started, turning what could have been just a short, albeit sweet song, into a full-bloodied, roof-raising oratorio; kissing, sucking, or teasingly licking every single inch of her, from the tips of each small, delicately shaped ear, right down to the soft and unusually sensitive spaces between her toes. I took my time, and of course some parts of her were more often revisited than others; her breasts and their stiffly jutting nipples, the delightfully incurving dimple in the middle of her belly, the silky-soft length of the inside of each thigh, and of course especially the true centre of my attention, her succulently juicy pussy.

It was all too apparent how much she loved it; turning and stretching herself to meet my mouth and fingers like a cat that has for too long been starved of affection, and even some of her soft sounds of obvious enjoyment sounded just like a deeply throbbing purring.

But of course even though I was eager to give her the maximum amount of pleasure, all that time I was also all too conscious of my own still almost overwhelming need. Far from my concentration on Danith's enjoyment in some way blocking out the force of the pressures inside me, it only seemed to strengthen them, especially during the time I spent down between her legs. 

The state of her pussy indicated the strength of her arousal; its rose-red lips already puffily swollen, her freely flowing lubricating juices not only coating but literally dripping from between them, and, what I found even more stimulating, an overpoweringly heady scent rising from it. I don't know whether it was the strength of that scent, the nectar-like taste of her or just the fact that her sex was so eagerly ready for me that was working inside me, but whatever it was, was certainly effective. Even as I was repeatedly kissing, licking and sucking her pussy I could feel my entire body, but especially my temporarily ignored, but protestingly straining cock, responding.

I was certainly all too aware of it; and it wasn't just the sensations coming from my cock itself, though its ever-growing and powerfully throbbing tension was being transmitted very clearly, but over-riding even that was the escalating strength of the very real pain I was getting from what felt like a pair of very bruised and massively swollen balls.

At one stage I thought she'd had enough of what my mouth was doing for her; she pushed me back off her, moved to one side and asked me to move up beside her. But instead of spreading herself so I could fuck her she rolled me on to my back and simply straddled my chest. 'I love what you're doing, but in this position it's even better for me. Do you mind?'

'Far from it!' I replied, doing my best to hide my frustrated disappointment as I slipped my hands beneath her buttocks and guided her as she lifted and wriggled herself forward.

I have always derived great pleasure from going down on a woman who enjoys having it done for her and perhaps the fact that I was obviously being so effective with Danith gave me both the incentive and the self-discipline to remain down there even longer than usual. But then perhaps in some way I was also deriving a sort of perverted pleasure in delaying even further my eventual relief from the ever-rising pressure inside me.

But what Danith was doing while I was busy with her pussy certainly didn't help me - even while she was being gripped by the strongest of her many climaxes she still somehow managed to add to my growing discomfort by keeping at least one hand behind herself, and either glide her fingers up and down the jerkily throbbing shaft or let them flutter tormentingly up and down over my by then super-sensitive cock-head.

I don't know how many orgasms I gave her, for one thing I certainly wasn't counting, but it also wasn't always clear whether some of the convulsions that shook her were individually separate peaks or merely part of a long drawn out rolling climax.

By that stage the combination of our physical contact and sexual exertions - plus the fact that when we came into the apartment I'd had more important things on my mind than to think about turning on the air conditioner - had me feeling really hot and both our bodies had become sheened with perspiration. So I was surprised when I suddenly felt a distinctly cool draught. 

I was even more surprised when the two small bed-side lights I'd purposely left on went out, leaving us in near total darkness.

But Danith wasn't apparently the slightest bit taken aback. 'Aha!' she whispered as she pulled away from me and, having taken a more purposeful hold of my cock, moved around to kneel beside me.

I was confused and totally bewildered by what was happening, and became even more so when I realised what light there was in the room wasn't what was filtering through from the adjoining room, but from a spot somewhere just beyond the foot of the bed.

Now I guess my first thought was that it was just possible that Danith had got me so frustratedly sexually stimulated that I could neither think nor even see straight - but what happened next quickly dispelled that idea. 

As the light strengthened it looked as though the air had grown misty and was then swirling around itself, then I saw a figure, a figure that quickly grew much more distinct, the figure of a woman - but not just any woman, I somehow knew that this had to be the most beautiful woman any man had ever seen.

Even from the angle I was seeing her she was obviously tall, probably quite a bit taller than me, and although at that moment she was wearing a loosely filmy gown that covered most of her body I could tell that beneath it was a body that would probably prove to be even sexier than Danith's had. But in several other ways she was totally different; she was blonde, her long, slightly waving hair a lustrous, pale honey colour, then although she was too far away for me to make out the actual colour of her eyes they were clearly much lighter in colour, and as she stared down at me and her tongue slowly moistened her full, bright cherry-red lips, they were sparkling brilliantly.

Apart from her height and colouring there was one way in which she was absolutely the same as Danith, and that was the feelings she generated as I simply looked at her - but although they were the same, they were at least ten times stronger than those I'd had before. She gave off an overwhelming sense of raw sexual power, power that in spite of the distance between us seemed to be infusing me. I somehow knew that the sole reason for this woman's being, was sex, and not only that, but that her intention was to have her very next bout of that with me!

Even as that thought struck me she simply shrugged her shoulders and I felt my eyes goggling at the sheer wonder of her as the gown slid smoothly down to the floor.

It's virtually impossible to describe a woman's beauty, poetry and prose writers often try, but no matter which or how many words are used they must all fall short in their effectiveness. So let me just say that - apart from the beauty of her face, her flawlessly milky white skin, the size and tautly up-jutting firmness of her faultlessly shaped breasts, the narrowness of her waist and the gentle flare of her hips, the length and shape of her legs, and the totally hairless, but well pronounced mound between her thighs, in fact her absolute perfection - it was still the sense of her sexual power that completely dominated my reactions.

Although Danith's fingers had a reasonably firm grip around my fully engorged cock they couldn't prevent the fresh supply of blood that the presence of this woman sent surging up through it, I felt them tightening as it jerked higher, then quivered from the ever increasing pressure inside it as the woman stepped forward.

'You desire me.' she said as she lifted herself up over me, her pale, hooded jade-green eyes staring unblinkingly down into mine. It was a statement, not a question and luckily, given my sudden absolute inability to speak, needed no reply. But I think I must have nodded because I saw a faint smile curl the corners of her mouth upwards before she added. 'Of course, all men do.'

Placing her feet on either side of me she eased herself forward until she was poised immediately above my vertically rearing cock, then slowly, and given the state I was then in, almost too unbearably slowly, she began to push herself down on to it.

I don't know if she thought that just the feel of her wet-velvety pussy sucking me deep into its snugly fitting depths would make me climax immediately, and perhaps after all the time I had spent in a state of maximum arousal I should have, but I didn't. Not that I was holding myself back - as I had demonstrated I could do while making love to Danith, nor that I didn't want to - at that moment emptying my painfully aching balls would have been nothing short of a sheer, blessed relief - it was just that for some inexplicable reason I didn't.

Having engulfed the full length I felt her pussy tightening, then she began to move slowly up and down. Both the friction and suction were unquestionably powerful and the sensations they created and sent shooting through my entire body were indescribable - yet, in spite of my almost desperate need to do so, and for reasons that are still totally inexplicable, even after a few minutes of continuous motion I still didn't come.

At that moment I could neither think nor see straight so I couldn't tell if the expression I saw flit across her face was one of surprise or satisfaction and very nearly missed the brief comment she made to Danith. 'You were correct sister, he has great stamina - he will certainly serve us well.' Then she looked back down at me and said. 'It seems this way is not sufficiently effective for you - there is another, more certain route for you to take, one that will undoubtedly ensure your climax.' She paused momentarily and I saw her eyes narrowing before she added in a low, positively suggestive whisper. 'I mean you could have me anally.'

Although I couldn't imagine anything being capable of giving me feelings stronger than those her pussy were creating just the thought of having my cock wedged up her arse sent shivers of lascivious delight coursing through me, so, still speechless, I again nodded.

Of course I had expected that we would be changing position, that she would go down on her hands and knees so I could enter her from behind, but it immediately became clear that was not what she had in mind. Instead I felt her reach down to take hold of my raw and angrily throbbing cock as she slowly lifted herself off it, then merely guiding it as she adjusted her position above me.

'This way is much tighter and at first you may find it painful, but I can guarantee you will climax. However, it is written that many of your kind believe this route is sinful.' she said as I felt her arsehole pressing down over the tip of my cock-head. 'For instance I understand your mother's faith brands what you want me to do as utterly perverted. And that continuing will make you, in their sight, an abomination.' she said in a dark, menacing tone. 'Do you still wish me to proceed? - You must answer me!' she added with barely controlled impatience when I failed to immediately respond.

Although right then the fog of sheer animal lust that gripped me made her statement all but incomprehensible it was obvious that if I didn't want to be left in a state of unimaginable frustration there was only one answer she wanted to hear. 'Yes, yes I do.' I muttered, then heard my words followed by a low, rasping growl as she pushed herself a little lower and unbelievably intense shock-like thrills seared straight up my spine.

But if I'd thought that she would immediately start the action that my body was screaming for, I couldn't have been more wrong - once she had just my cock-head jammed inside herself she stopped again. 'On second thoughts I'm not so sure I should do this.' she hissed. 'You know it's wicked, all but forbidden, and the penalty may be far too high for you.'

Again the words made absolutely no sense to me, but the implication was clear, so when she added. 'What are you prepared to give for me to continue?' my response was immediate and unhesitating.

'Anything! Whatever you want, just don't stop, for christ's sake don't stop!' I managed to croak as the thought of what I might be denied threatened to make any further responses virtually impossible.

'That much, are you certain?'

'Yes. Yeeesss!' I practically screamed in desperation. 'Anything, anything!'

'Very well, so be it.' she said, her eyes glinting even more brightly as she rested one hand on my chest. Then, as she finally began to push herself lower and although the gripping tightness of her anal channel sent unbelievably powerful bolts of pleasure-pain surging through me I also felt one finger's razor sharp nail drawing down through my flesh. I think I was dimly aware of a second stroke, made lower, somewhere across my abdomen, but in all honesty from then on I'm sure the entire building could have collapsed around us and I would have neither registered it, nor, to be candid, have even cared.

Her pussy had fitted me like a tailored wet velvet glove but there was just no comparison between it and the super-tight sheath that was slowly engulfing me, and if it hadn't been for the amount of pre-cum that must have been oozing from it by then I'm almost sure my cock would never have been able to fully penetrate it. And although I felt I was having several layers of skin stripped from it in the process, the accompanying ecstasy I was experiencing made me more than willing to suffer whatever I had to for that to continue.

Yet, as I was soon to discover, those thrills were merely a precursor of what were still to come.

Perhaps the only disconcerting aspect of the breath-takingly excruciating yet indescribably fantastic moments it took for her to take all of it was the expression on her face as she forced herself slowly downwards; it was a smile, but one that I can only describe as being a smile of absolute triumph.

Once she was satisfied she had me totally embedded she seemed in no particular hurry to take things any further, although my hips were trying desperately to jerk my cock up and down she just sat there, pressing down, holding me still, her eyes glinting as they stared deep into mine. 'You understand that the contract between us is sealed if I give you the gift of relief.' she finally said in a low, almost threatening voice. 'If you want me to continue you must answer me.' she again added when I made no immediate reply.




Supernatural Ch. 08



'Yes, yes, whatever you say! Please, just do it! For pity sake just do it!' I groaned through tightly clenched teeth.

'Very well, you are my witness to what he says sister.' she whispered as I felt the easing of the weight that had been holding me down.

I don't know whether it was merely the amount of pre-cum that must have been oozing from my cock or whether she somehow produced her own lubricant, but although her anal channel clung no less tightly, when she began to move up and down I found it was not only producing feelings I simply hadn't known were possible but that in doing so her actions were causing me much less pain.

In fact whatever pain was being generated was completely obliterated by the flood of even stronger, breathtakingly euphoric responses. Every single nerve cell seemed to be firing simultaneously, their individual paths merging as they coursed up my spine, then, once they reached the deepest pleasure centres of my brain, triggering absolute ecstasy as they exploded.

Of course the sheer intensity of those sensations were more than enough to produce what my body had been craving for so long and it wasn't too long before I felt the onset of the first signs of that all too familiar surging rush.

But then, and I don't know if it was a reality or just my lust-crazed brain playing tricks on me - but whatever it was, it seemed that something very strange had occurred - it felt as though the very fabric of time itself had been stretched.

Although the lead up to orgasm can become a very long drawn out period of intense enjoyment, and many women are capable of experiencing the joy of either a series of sequential orgasms or of an almost continuously rolling one, most men can normally expect there to be just a few all too short seconds during which they feel the full impact of the actual physical climax.

But that's not at all what I felt. From the moment I first became aware of the impending onset everything that happened seemed to be doing so in extremely slow motion.

Although its beat seemed to be many seconds apart I felt my heart beating faster, more powerfully, driving additional blood into key areas of my body. Felt some of it being forced into my cock, felt it both expanding the already fully engorged shaft and further ballooning the head. Felt the slow but inexorable tightening of my balls as they were drawn purposefully ever closer to my cock. Felt the pressure inside both of them rising even higher as still more semen was added to their already seething contents. Then, although I admit it now seems impossible, I know I even felt the crackling flash of what proved to be the final critical messages between brain, nerves and muscles.

And then, still in that ultra-slow motion, I felt my orgasm overwhelming me. Felt my body arching, pushing my hips high off the bed and gradually ramming the entire length of my cock into the very depths of the woman above me. And as it slowly thrust up into her arse I felt my balls finally begin releasing their load. Felt my body gathering and directing every bit of available energy to my groin to power the long succession of scalding hot jets that were starting to be vigorously pumped upwards. Then, during a period of time that felt more like minutes rather than just seconds, felt the full, brain-searing impact of what must have been the most cataclysmically powerful orgasm any mortal man had ever experienced.

If the most powerful of normal orgasms is described as being like a bundle of fireworks going off, what I experienced during that long drawn out period of time can only be compared with an effect produced by having a train load of such bundles being fired off sequentially.

When it was all finally over my brain simply shut down and I imagine the rest of my body was incapable of doing anything but simply collapsing from the sheer draining exhaustion of the experience.

It was some hours before I woke up and even though I was able to drag myself out of bed I immediately had to acknowledge I had never, ever felt so weary, so exhausted, so utterly shattered, as though much of my very life-essence had been sucked out of me. The first thing I discovered when I was capable of taking in my surroundings was that my apartment was empty, absolutely devoid of even any trace of either of the two women, or of what we had done together. Not only wasn't there even a hint of their perfume hanging in the air, but there was not even any of the expected pungency of still lingering after-sex aromas.

But when I looked down at myself what I saw made me hurry to the bathroom to take a better look in the mirror.

It wasn't the raw, still blood and semen caked state of my cock that worried me most, it was the two livid red lines I saw cut into my body - one vertical, the other horizontally across my belly.

At first I could make no sense of why she'd done that to me, then, when I actually recognised the symbol, I wished I hadn't. It was a cross - an inverted cross - and even I recognised what that was and what it was said to stand for. The inverted cross was of course a satanic symbol, and its mark was said to identify something, or far more disturbingly, somebody, as being a chattel of the devil...

As my mind span, desperately grappling with the ridiculous but horrifying unreality of that thought, some of the apparently meaningless words the woman had spoken came back to literally haunt me. 'I understand your mother's faith brands what you want me to do as utterly perverted - and that continuing will make you, in their sight, an abomination.' Although her words had made no sense at the time, looking back I realised she had actually given me two more opportunities to reconsider both their meaning and my actions. The first was when she'd asked - 'What are you prepared to give for me to continue?' - to which I had of course answered, 'Anything!' The second had been just before she pushed herself fully down on to my cock, when she said - 'You understand that the contract between us is sealed if I give you the gift of relief.' - and to which I had of course all to willingly agreed!

Then I also remembered something she had said right at the beginning, when she still had my cock jammed hard up inside her pussy, long before what then appeared to be the most crucial episode of our coupling. She had turned to Danith and said - 'You were correct sister, he has great stamina - he will certainly serve us well.' The most frighteningly terrifying word in that sentence was of course the word - serve!

Serve her, them, where, how?

Had I in fact somehow agreed to sell myself into servitude, to what? Who, what were they? From where, and how had they come? And of course, why me?

These were just a few of the unanswerable questions racing around in my head as I still stood looking at the gory image of myself in the mirror.

Then, from some previously long forgotten reading of a book of popularised myths from the middle-ages I shuddered as I remembered a name - succubus. From what I recalled the succubus was said to be a demon that took on the form of a fatally beautiful woman who seduced, then, while performing various lewd sexual acts with them, stole the souls of compliant men.

Is that what the woman had been? Danith too? Was that what that final, perhaps fatal sentence had meant - 'You understand that the contract between us is sealed if I give you the gift of relief.'?

But even as I was trying to make some sort of sense of the unnatural unreality of some of the possible implications I also found my brain working much more laterally.

If I had somehow unwittingly condemned myself to some sort of servitude, how would I spend it?

Would my damnation be spent experiencing that final, soul-searing, but totally euphoric rapture of that unimaginably fantastic orgasm - or in the gut-tearing, and utterly bleakly hopeless frustration that preceded it?



Supernatural Ch. 09



Chapter 9: SPRITES

Steve had been through a painful and rather messy divorce which had, over the months drained him physically and emotionally, and left a large hole in his finances. Just before meeting the girl who was to become his wife he had started taking sailing lessons and found he had both an aptitude and an increasing passion for it. But the girl hated both the sea and anything that floated on it, and also made quite clear that she didn't really take to any of his new boating friends. So he had regretfully dropped the idea and got on with their new life together.

But now, with that all behind him the thought of sailing returned, it would give him new things to do, a way of meeting new people, and if the promise he had previously shown bore fruit, well, who knows where it might take him.

So he returned to the club he had previously joined, and over a few beers gave the people he had previously started to get to know a potted history of the disastrous, intervening years. They were understanding, so understanding in fact that the few beers turned to quite a few, and much later that night he fell into his cold and empty bed quite happily.

His lessons went well and the skills he had started to learn quickly came back, then rapidly improved, and although at first they were quite supernumerary positions, he did begin to be offered places on some of the club members' boats.

Of course as well as the sheer joy of sailing sometime most week-ends, there was the accompanying social life of the club. Both male and female companionship was there for him, although he wisely kept the various tentative approaches he received from one or two women, at arm's length. It was too soon after his painful and expensive experience with his ex-wife to start down that route again, at least for a while.

Not that he wouldn't have enjoyed the occasional romp. His sex-life had always been active, and even during the last few weeks before their eventual and acrimonious parting he and his wife had still been able to both excite and satisfy each other. So although his work and his new week-end activities filled his life quite satisfactorily, he was all too well aware that there was still some essential aspect of it that was not being taken care of.

But he did his best to push those needs to one side, taking what solace he could find in masturbating himself when the urgency grew just too strong.

When he heard that the club was organising a special event for the next holiday long week-end he immediately added his name to the list of those wishing to be included. The plan, weather permitting of course, was for them to spend the week-end at a marina resort a few hours sailing up the coast. As well as the trips there and back would be a series of races being organised for the other day, and in the evenings, dinner dances with members of the resort's club.

The prospect was really exciting, lots of sailing, including his first taste of going out on the ocean, albeit just in the fairly predictable coastal waters, plus the chance to meet still more new people. Then when he had no trouble finding a place on one of the more senior members larger boats for the outward and return trips, and the promise of one on one or other of the smaller boats for the actual races, he began to really forward to the three days.

The week-end started out really well, the first day dawning bright and clear, with a light breeze from the south-west that gave them a fast and sometimes exciting trip up the coast. Then, having settled his stuff in the motel arranged for them, they had a late lunch at the club-house before readying the boats for the following day's racing during the rest of that afternoon.

Drinks at the bar gave them more time to mix with the other club's members and their wives or girl-friends and by the time they sat down to eat everyone had already started to have a really good time. The atmosphere got even livelier as the evening progressed and a rapidly increasing number of bottles of wine were consumed, the jokes getting raunchier and couples freely swapping around, at least on the dance floor.

One woman in particular had caught his eye the moment she arrived, a tall, sultry brunette, with a figure she was obviously proud to show off, and which immediately stirred Steve's much neglected sex-drive. As she had arrived with a quite large group of the resort club's members he had no way of knowing who she was partnering and really didn't like to risk showing his interest by asking questions. But although she was sitting nowhere near him he could see her quite clearly and several times during dinner he caught her looking in his direction, their eyes meeting and then hers holding his gaze quite unselfconsciously.

So when the dancing had been going for some time and he saw her temporarily left on her own, he made a bee-line for her, and was delighted when she accepted his invitation with a steamy look that seemed to ask him why he had waited so long.

She moved beautifully, and sensually, pressing herself so close that every step resulted in some part of her brushing against him. And as the dark red dress she was wearing seemed to have been cut with the intention of displaying as much of her magnificent breasts as possible, each time he glanced down he was treated to a disturbingly exciting view.

The combination of that view and the way she was moving soon had the predictable effect and he felt his cock lengthening, thickening and then quickly stiffening. But, when her brushing thigh encountered the unmistakable bulge, rather than being embarrassed by his reaction she looked up and smiled, at the same time pressing her leg more firmly against him, then spent the rest of the dance apparently trying to arouse him even more.

After that promising experience he simply had to know more about her, and although in one way not really surprised, was none the less annoyed to learn she was the wife of the host club's skipper, and that she had a reputation as being a classic 'cock-teaser'. So, even though he was disappointed that his hopes of what he felt sure would have been a fantastic bout of love-making had been shattered, he was pleased that he had been saved from making a complete fool of himself.

But when he got back to his motel room much later that evening he found he couldn't get rid of either the image of her, or the thoughts of what it might have been like to hold her superb body in his arms. And those images and thoughts followed him in his sleep, but in his dreams they were images that had been stripped of their thin veneer of decency and constraint.

She was a tiger, screaming with delight as his inexhaustible cock pistoned into either her arse or her cunt. Biting his shoulder and raking his back with her long, blood-red finger-nails as he took her to yet another jolting, shuddering climax. Then even when he thought he was done, squeezing and rolling his depleted cock between those incredible breasts until it was reinvigorated enough for her to suck on, then gurgling with satisfaction as she gulped down the ensuing gouts of semen.

The dream had been so strong that much of it remained with him when he woke the next morning, and he even found that just recalling some of the detail while taking his shower was more than enough to give him a very demandingly uncomfortable erection. Having got rid of it in the quickest way he knew, and after making sure he hadn't left any of the sticky residue on the tiles, he dressed and headed off for a much needed break-fast.

When he went into the dining room he found half a dozen of the two club's officials in urgent conversation, and learned that during the night many people had gone down with what looked like an attack of mild food poisoning. Although none were really seriously ill, many would be unable to take an active part in the day's events, and having decided that completely cancelling things was not warranted, the reduced numbers meant that only a reduced number of races could be held.

Much to Steve's disappointment he found that both the boats he'd been offered possible places on had been scratched, but when the club secretary saw the look on his face he suggested Steve might like to do a bit of solo sailing instead.

Although it just wasn't the same as being part of a crew, it would be a lot better than mooching around the clubhouse all day, so he gratefully accepted. He told them that he hadn't done very much single-handed sailing but was assured that the boat was foolproof, and although the weather conditions had changed over-night, they would cause him no problems.

So having got the details of where the boat was moored, and thanked the secretary for his kindness, he left them to finish their more important task and went off to get himself something to eat.

Having located the small skiff and familiarised himself with its rig he then only had to decide where to take it, up the estuary and into the river that fed it, or down, and out to sea. He had enjoyed the sail up the coast the previous day so much that the prospect of being out, if only a little way, was really very tempting. If the south-westerly they'd had had still been blowing he certainly wouldn't have risked it, but the wind had swung round during the night and was no more than a gentle breeze from the north-east, so he made up his mind and headed down river.

The boat was just as easy to sail as he had been told it would be and Steve quickly found his confidence in both it and his abilities growing stronger and by the time he crossed the imaginary line where river turned to sea, he was really enjoying himself. 

He continued sailing North for another couple of hours, being sensible and careful not to get too far off the coast, and keeping a sharp eye out for any signs of danger or change in either the sea or the sky. Having picked-up a small packed lunch that had been thoughtfully provided by club before he left he had no need to hurry back, and as the lightness of the breeze enabled him to tack leisurely upwind he was enjoying a sense of real freedom. There were so many small things that gave him pleasure, as well as the regular motion of the boat itself there were the occasionally wheeling gulls, and once, even a small pod of apparently curious dolphins. So most of the time he was quite content to enjoy what the surrounding elements had to offer.

But, at least from time to time, he found the thoughts and images the sultry brunette had inspired returning, and he at some stage even found himself wondering if it would be possible to actually fuck in a boat as small as the one he was sailing. The contortions that would be necessary made him smile, and he decided that the effort probably wouldn't be worth it with most women. But there had been something about the skipper's wife, 'cock-tease' or not, she was definitely something special, and with her, well perhaps the effort would be worthwhile.

His plan had been to sail up as far as a prominent headland before heading a little further out to sea and then eat his lunch once he had started on the down wind run back to the estuary. And everything went smoothly until just after he had finished eating.

Of course by then the day had grown quite hot and although the breeze off the ocean was cooling when he looked towards the shoreline he could see the heat haze thickening. Then, still a little way ahead of him, he saw a small patch that seemed to be defying the wind and current's direction and drifting across his course. But as he could still see the vague outline of the shore-line through it he was unconcerned, just as the dolphins had been curious about his boat, he was equally so about the drifting patch of mist.

But then, as he headed into its outer fringes it seemed to suddenly thicken and within a matter of seconds he could see no more than a few metres in any direction. And then to make matters worse, the wind died completely away. He was still trying to decide whether or not to trim his sails a bit when another boat loomed through the mist and as it appeared to be totally becalmed his forward motion took him alongside.

It was obviously a big ocean going yacht, not quite a full maxi, but not far off it and as he called out to get the attention of the crew he noticed it was stripped down to just a single storm sail, which, given the surrounding conditions, immediately struck him as rather odd. Even more odd was the fact that several more loud calls went unanswered, so he used the overhanging lines to pull himself aft, where he tied-up, then scrambled up the short stainless steel ladder to the deck.

The deck and all the gear were beautifully maintained and he saw that all the lines had been neatly stowed, there was no sign of any work being unfinished, but still no sign of any crew, not even anyone on watch.

But then as he began to make his way along the deck a figure came up out of the forward hatch, a girl, perhaps in her late teens. At first he supposed she had just come from taking a shower, at least that was his only explanation for what she was wearing. It was just a short, very short, wrap-around thing, made of some sort of white linen, but held in place by a very ornate belt made of intricate links of a gold coloured metal. But although, because it was just so incongruous it what she was wearing that first caught his attention, when he took a second look he forgot all about her strange dress.

She was stunning, almost as tall as himself, the long length of her shapely legs and the curve of her nicely rounded hips and slender waist accentuated by the shortness of the wrap-around and tightness of its belt. Although the actual shape of her obviously full breasts were disguised by the looseness of its folds, her face, framed with long wavy black hair, was one that would tempt a saint. Heart shaped, with wide set dark brown eyes, eyes that reflected both the surprise and pleasure he somehow felt sure she was feeling at seeing him there.

She beckoned to him to go forward and as he did so, without saying a single word she turned and went back down below. Naturally he followed her, and had a second, even bigger shock when he saw the cabin.

At first he thought it was some architectural trick, that something had been done to create an optical illusion of space that wasn't, simply couldn't be there, because the apparent space below deck was enormous.

Aft, obviously painted on the curving cabin wall was a mural, but done in such life-like detail that he could have sworn he was standing there looking at an actual view. It looked very Mediterranean, he recognised cypress trees, and what might have been an olive grove, then a small, Greek looking temple made from some brilliantly white stone. The effect had been enhanced by continuing the mural down the sides of the cabin, the detail and perspective were so exact that the sense of three dimensional reality that had been created was unnerving.

In the middle ground, so to speak, the theme was continued, there was actually something that looked like a white stone balustrade running across the cabin, flanked at either end by a couple of marble looking statues, and overhung by some remarkably well nourished, but presumably potted trees.

The impact of the effect was so strong it completely disoriented him, made his head spin, and for a few moments he completely forgot the stunning girl who had brought him down there. But only for a few moments, he shook his head to clear it, then turned, and what he saw there made him positively dizzy with disbelief.

The ladder he had just come down seemed to have vanished, just disappeared, as had the physical limitations of the cabin walls. He was no longer standing on a timber deck, but a marble tiled floor, in what appeared to be someone's idea of the inside of a temple similar to the one pictured in the mural. There were more statues placed around the area, and at the far end, raised up on some sort of plinth and several times larger than life size, was another, of a totally naked woman.

But although he subconsciously took in some of that detail what really caught and held his attention were the two pillow strewn couches just a few metres away, on one, the girl he had seen on deck, and on the other, another, in some ways even more stunningly attractive girl.

And, like the statue behind them, both were absolutely stark naked.

Steve knew he must have looked like some village idiot, standing there just gawping at them in sheer disbelief. But, as though they understood how he was feeling, they were both smiling up at him. Then the first girl spoke.

Her voice was soft, yet in a strange way also commanding. 'Undress now! You are here to both enjoy, and give us enjoyment. You may, if you wish to, call us by name, address myself as Parissa and my sister as Aspea.'

Steve said that although there was something odd about the way she spoke the effect of her voice was as powerful as the illusion of the painted walls had been. Until that moment he had been too astonished by what he'd seen to even consider the reason for the women's nakedness, but he suddenly felt all the long pent up sexual frustrations boiling up inside himself. And as he began to do what the girl had told him to do he took his first really good look at what was being offered.

His first, all too brief impressions of Parissa's beauty were confirmed. Her breasts were as full and as firm as he had anticipated they would be, and without the wrap-around he got the chance to appreciate the true sensual perfection of all her other slender, but still well rounded curves.

Aspea was in some way even more sexually arousing. Her body was even more voluptuous, her breasts, although equally firm, were larger, her aureoles and nipples slightly darker, her hips just a little more pronounced. But as well as all the obvious differences it was the way she lay that gave Steve an indication of her even greater sensuality, the inviting, almost wanton way she had left her legs splayed carelessly apart.

Although from where he was standing he couldn't actually see down between her thighs, he could see the neatly trimmed triangle of jet-black hair that covered her mound, and he felt himself licking his suddenly dry lips as he thought of what lay just below it.

He looked up, at her face, and found a pair of equally dark eyes watching him, a half smile curled the corner of her blood-red mouth and having held his gaze for a few moments she looked down, watching as he finally tugged off the last of his clothes, his briefs.

Although it had been rapidly filling, his cock was at that moment not fully erect, but freeing it gave it more room to move and as he continued staring at Aspea he felt it starting to jerk upwards. Her smile broadened a little when she saw the movement, then she slipped one hand down between her thighs as she watched its continuing progress even more intently.

When she was sure it had reached maximum size and hardness she moved, pushing a large pillow beneath herself to lift her hips higher, then spreading her legs wide as she beckoned him forward. Even before he moved he felt the same briefly swirling dizziness he'd experienced before, and when it cleared he realised that there was absolutely nothing else in his life that was more important than doing what Aspea wanted him to.

He saw the furls of soft, pink flesh glistening wetly, felt his cock twitching, as though in anticipation of feeling them clinging to it, and moved forward. She lifted her legs as he approached, then he felt her fingers closing around his cock and it was already so hot that her fingers felt almost ice cold by comparison. He heard himself give a low gasp of both surprise and pleasure, then another that was deeper and louder when she guided its head into the slit between those moistly pouting folds.




Supernatural Ch. 09



Then before he had a chance to push deeper, he felt a hand slipping up between his legs. He had been so distracted by Aspea's seductiveness that he almost forgotten Parissa, who was then standing behind him. But as her hand reached his balls and gently cupped them, the other pressed him forward.

Although he was convinced neither girl actually said anything he still somehow knew what they expected of him, a short, frenzied coupling just would not do, Aspea needed it to be both long and unhurried. And right then, given the thrills her tightly clinging pussy was giving him as he pushed deeper, that prospect suited Steve just fine.

As he began pushing back and forth the thrills he was getting increased. Her pussy was already so slick he had been able to get the entire length of his cock inside with very little effort, but at the same time it was still an excitingly tight fit, so each move sent a surge of delight shooting up his spine.

Aspea stared up at him, smiling, her dark eyes beginning to sparkle with pleasure as he drove slowly, but forcefully in and out. Although he continued staring down at her face, at the edge of his vision he could still see her hand, see her fluttering fingers, she was augmenting the pleasure his thrusting cock was giving her.

And Parissa was also augmenting his with her hands, one quite roughly, gripping his bottom really hard each time he thrust forward, the other more subtly, but having an even stronger impact. At first its movements had been so delicate he had hardly noticed them, her finger-tips just lightly stroking his balls. But he became much more conscious of what she was doing when she began rolling and gently squeezing each one in turn. Then as time passed and the pressure inside him slowly rose his balls became more swollen, more sensitive and her actions even more effective.

Although the combination of thrills made it difficult, Steve did his best to do what Aspea had wanted, instructed, holding back his climax as long as possible, it eventually became all to obvious he couldn't delay it indefinitely. He felt the unmistakable draining pressure in the pit of his stomach, felt the bruising ache as his balls tightened, and knew the start of the unstoppable rush wasn't too far away. The girls must have somehow also spotted something that told them what was happening. He felt Parissa's fingers tightening fractionally, and as Aspea's smile broadened and her eyes sparkled a little more brightly, she lifted her hips even higher.

He said he got the feeling that he had been given their permission to finally let go, and although he couldn't have done anything about it if they hadn't, that feeling added to the flooding exultation he experienced when he came with a series of truly massive jolts.

But although it was one of the most powerful climaxes he had ever experienced, and he felt sure there couldn't have been a single drop of semen left in his gasping, shuddering body, even as he pulled back out of Aspea he saw his cock was still rock-hard, its inflamed length still jerkily throbbing.

So, in some barely functioning corner of his mind he wasn't too surprised when the women changed places. But he did hear himself gasp with surprised delight when Parissa, before laying back on the pillows, leaned forward and licked and sucked his rearing cock clean of the mix of Aspea's juices and his still oozing semen.

Then, as before, he knew that if he was to satisfy Parissa, he must not only call up reserves of energy, but he must also take his time. And somehow he did, thrilled to find that her pussy was, if anything even tighter than Aspea's had been, her responses to his thrusting even more vigorously exciting. Then, some long, blissful time later he was relieved to see a similar smile of satisfaction appearing on her face just a few moments before he unloaded what felt like an equally massive series of gouts of hot, sticky semen into her welcoming pussy.

But, although at first he thought they were, he was soon to discover that they weren't finished with him. After his second climax they moved the pillows around so he could lie back for a rest, bringing him a large goblet of some sweet, but very refreshing drink, then settling themselves on the second couch.

But rest was obviously the last thing on their minds, as Parissa lay back and spread her legs, Aspea got up on her hands and knees above her, head to toe, and they immediately began licking and sucking each other's pussies.

Steve watched in amazement, hearing their slurping, gurgling sounds of mutual pleasure increasing the longer they went at each other, and a few minutes later, to his utter astonishment, felt himself responding, felt his already over-worked cock re-hardening. Those feelings quickly grew stronger, but in spite of what they were doing to him he gave himself a little longer, draining the last of the drink and waiting until he heard the rising cries of the two women mingling as they each reached their separate orgasms.

Then he got up and went over to them, his re-aroused cock bouncing around as he moved across the tiled floor. Aspea's body was still arching Parissa, her arse lifted just high enough, as though she had intentionally positioned herself for him. So he took what was being offered, burying his cock deep, then, because his need was much more urgent than it had been before, gripping her hips as he pounded her harder and faster than he had the first time.

But it seemed from her reactions that his more brutal fucking was also what she wanted of him, within a few seconds he heard her mewling cries of pleasure and as he increased both the speed and strength of his thrusting they grew louder, ending in a choking cry just as he erupted yet again.

He stood there, panting for breath and still blinded by the red haze that seemed to have enveloped him as his third, draining orgasm ripped through his body. He felt Aspea pulling herself forward off his cock, then once again felt the cool relief of Parissa's lips, tongue and mouth cleaning it.

But she did more than just that, even when there couldn't have been the slightest trace of co-mingled juices left, she continued, and then even as her actions grew just a little stronger he felt her hand slip up between his legs and then her fingers again gently cupping his balls.

He gave a silent groan of disbelief when he felt what was happening, and knew why. She expected him to also satisfy her a second time, and more importantly she not only expected that of him, she was demanding it.

But although it seemed a ridiculous expectation, he also sensed her assurance that what she was doing would help him, that soon her ministrations would give him the power to do what she needed him to. And in his mind's eye he suddenly saw what that was, her arse, she needed him to fuck her arse.

There was no doubt that the thought was in itself exciting, her arse was truly beautiful, two full, but firmly rounded globes, and a deeply inviting crack between them. Then there was the thought of what truly incredible thrills that much, much tighter channel would give him.

And as those images and thoughts swirled around in his head, what she was doing to his cock had the effect she had promised him they would. He felt it pulsing with renewed vigour, felt fresh blood coursing into it, felt an increasing tension inside himself as his body responded to the combination of physical and mental stimulation.

Parissa continued sucking and stroking his cock long after she had brought it up to full size again, her mouth stretched wide by its pulsating girth, and her eyes sparkling with obvious delight as she watched shivers of increasing tension rippling up through his body. She worked on him for so long that in fact Steve began to think that her intentions had changed, that she was going to get him off that way. And although that idea was exciting, the thought of the other way was even more so, so in fact he was actually pleased when she finally pulled her head up off him.

Having taken so much care in getting him to that pitch of excitement she didn't risk him losing any of it by wasting any time, spinning herself around on the couch and getting down on all fours. She had left a thick coating of her saliva on his cock and as she settled herself she slid her fingers up and down the crack between the cheeks of her bottom, making it slick with some of the fluids apparently still dripping from her pussy.

He paused briefly before moving forward, looking down at her, seeing her tightly wrinkled arse-hole glistening with her own pussy-juice, feeling his excitement rising even higher in anticipation of what he was about to do.

And, although it was as he had expected it to be, a really tight fit, with the help of that lubricant and some determined pressure, he got his cock-head inside, and of course once he'd achieved that further progress became just that much easier.

But she was still so tight that it was like having his cock jammed inside a narrow pipe, it felt as though every single nerve ending was firing at the same time, and when he pushed it back and forth he thought he was actually scraping the skin off it. But the thrills were so intense even that didn't seem to matter, they were like a series of electric shocks, but shocks that rather than producing pain, gave him indescribably delirious pleasure.

As he settled into a steady rhythm he felt the tips of her fingers brushing against the shaft of his cock and understood that just as Aspea had done, she was increasing her own pleasure by rubbing her clitoris. Knowing that relieved him of some of the pressure to ensure she was fully satisfied by just his own performance, but even so he did his best to provide them both with the maximum stimulation by occasionally changing what he was doing. Most of the time using long, powerful thrusts that penetrated right into the heart of her body, but sometimes leaving just the head inside her and using shorter, much faster movements.

She seemed to enjoy whatever he did, her initial whimpers turning to short, moaning gasps, and then, as she began rocking herself back and forth on his spearing cock and he finally began powering more determinedly, to hoarse, throaty cries of sheer delight.

By then he neither knew, nor really cared how much of what she was feeling was being produced by her own fluttering fingers, and how much by his pistoning cock. All he really knew was that if the rapidly increasing pressure inside himself was any indication, he was all too soon going to unleash yet another flood of semen. And, if the strength of what he was feeling was anything to go by, although it should have been physically impossible, it would be even bigger than the three he'd already produced.

Although he had no way of actually confirming that, if his own, and Parissa's reactions were anything to go by, it probably was. As he felt the start of the rising surge he looked down to watch his flashing cock pistoning back and forth, then heard his own guttural cries blending with Parissa's shriller but equally loud reactions. Her entire body seemed to shudder as he felt the first truly explosive gout blasting up through his white-hot cock, then as the others followed and he found himself thrusting even harder and deeper, she rammed herself even more vigorously back on to it.

When they were finally done with each other she pulled him down on to the couch then he was left alone for a moment, left to lie there gasping for breath, his heart racing and pounding so hard he thought it would literally burst through his heaving chest. 

But we wasn't left like that for very long, and when the two girls returned a few minutes later each was carrying a goblet, then while Parissa lifted his head end encouraged him to drink he felt Aspea using the contents of the other to bathe his cock and balls. Pleasant though that was he knew he was utterly drained, knew he didn't even have the strength to lift himself, and certainly knew there wasn't a single drop of fluid left in his body.

He drifted in a state of semi-conscious exhaustion, taking sips of the drink Parissa was giving him, feeling Aspea's tender touch, but other than that, unable to move a single muscle.

Then he heard the girls whispering to each other, and although their words were blurred and indistinct, he knew they were talking about him, and, somewhat disturbingly, what they were going to do with him. He got the impression that Parissa was for returning him somewhere, but just where that was to he couldn't really remember. But Aspea was for keeping him with them, and although it wasn't clear for how long, he certainly knew what she wanted to keep him for.

Their words grew louder as what they were saying to each other turned into a real argument, but just when it sounded as though their tempers were about to rise dangerously high, he suddenly heard a third voice, which immediately silenced the other two. 'He shall be returned - soon.' It said.

By then the refreshing effects of the drink had given him enough energy to push himself up into a sitting position and he looked around for the source of the third voice. Other than the two girls there was nobody there, but then he saw where they were both looking, with heads lowered and downcast eyes. They were facing the wall behind him, where he had seen the much larger statue, so he turned, but saw nothing other than just that.

But then a movement caught his eye, he looked down from the face of the statue, and saw fingers moving, flexing. Then as he felt his eyes bulging and a wave of fear sweep up through his body he saw the arms move, shaking themselves, then the statue's chest heave, as though it was taking in a huge breath of air.

It took only a matter of seconds for the thing to come fully alive, if that was a word that could be used to describe the terrifying process. But then what convinced Steve that he had actually gone stark, raving mad happened. The statue turned, and as it slowly came down the dozen or so steps at the side of the plinth, colours began suffusing its entire body, and it began to grow progressively smaller.

By the time it reached floor level it was, again if that was a word that could be used, normal size, just a little taller than the other two girls. But it wasn't really either the process he'd witnessed that took Steve's breath away, it was what the statue, or whatever the thing was, had metamorphosed into. Although actually true to both the features and details he'd previously seen, when reduced in size, and with living colour brought back into its body, it, she, was the most truly amazingly beautiful woman he had either seen or even in his improbable dreams could ever have imagined.

Her hair was honey-golden, falling thickly to just below her shoulders, softly framing a face that was both beautiful and also seemed to glow with an even greater inner beauty. Her eyes were wide set, having a slight upward tilt at their outer corners and their colour was a pure sapphire blue, as though reflecting the light from the tropical, sun-kissed lagoons they brought to his mind. And she was smiling at him, her slightly opened mouth showing small, brilliantly white teeth that contrasted with slightly over-full, and truly rose-red lips.

But though the sheer beauty of her face held his eyes for a long, long time, he couldn't prevent them eventually drifting lower, and he heard himself gasp when he took in the full wonder of the rest of her body.

Her skin was alabaster white, almost translucent and without a single blemish or fold of surplus flesh anywhere. Then although the overall impression of her figure was one of graceful slenderness, her breasts defied that, they were truly breath-taking, full, high-set, sweeping up from her body in truly awesome curves that were tipped with delightfully peaking nipples perfectly matching the colour of her lips. Her waist was ridiculously small, her stomach virtually flat, with just a hint of the feminine roundness that also showed on her otherwise almost boyish hips. Her legs were long, slender yet shapely, and her thighs smoothly rounded. And at their apex, clearly outlined by the thick, yet neatly trimmed, also honey-gold coloured hair, was her sensually prominent pubic mound.

He stared even longer at those impossibly perfect delights than he had at her beautiful face, totally unable to believe that even nature could actually produce something so perfectly exquisite.

But, he somehow knew, she was not just some perfectly formed thing to be admired, even worshipped from afar, beneath that almost ethereally beautiful body beat the heart of a woman, a woman with emotions, and even more importantly, needs, powerful needs.

She allowed him to continue staring at her for a while, then although he didn't hear any words spoken he felt sure the girls had received some sort of silent command. While Parissa gave him a little more of the sweetly refreshing drink, Aspea went and fetched a thick blanket sort of covering, folding it into several layers and then laying it down on the floor. Having added a couple of small cushions the girls helped him up, then gently urged him to lie down on it, and then went and sat quietly on one of the couches.

The statue, woman, goddess, whatever she was, moved forward and stood beside him, smiling as she looked down at his body. He sensed that by comparison with others she had known his was somewhat puny, yet he got no feeling of inadequacy from knowing that, he understood that right then it was just his cock that mattered, and somehow knew it would prove to be more than adequate for her needs.

She moved again, standing close to his head, then lifted one leg across so she stood astride him, giving him a clear view all the way up the long slender length of her legs and thighs, and allowing him to stare up at her, at her pussy.

He wasn't surprised to find that it was just as beautiful as the rest of her exquisite body, but was thrilled to find that although the honey-gold fleece above it was thick, there wasn't a single hair around it, allowing him to see every tiny detail. See the way the inner and outer lip-folds nestled perfectly together, their colours shading from the palest, most delicate pink at the core, to one that was just slightly duskier at the outer edge. See the faint glimmer of light reflecting off the tiny drops of moisture that had already appeared along the fringes of the innermost folds. See the pronounced ridge of flesh above, and, he thought, to even catch a glimpse of the darker pink tip of her clitoris.

But even as he continued staring upwards she began to slowly lower herself, bending her knees until her pussy was hovering just above his mouth, so close that with his next breath he smelt the scent of her. He said it was impossible to describe that scent, just that it was sweeter, and far, far headier than the most intoxicating tropical flower. Then, when she brushed her pussy lips against his mouth and he tasted her, he said it was as though he was sipping more of the nectar-like drink the girls had previously given him.

But what was truly amazing was that as he began licking her something of the essence of the combination of her taste and scent seemed to flow into him, imbuing his body with renewed strength, and soon after that, restimulating his own needs. Although concentrating on what he was doing for her, using all the skills and techniques he had learned from years of pussy licking, he was all too aware of what was happening to himself. He could feel blood coursing to his groin, feel it filling his cock yet again, feel that rolling across his thigh as it lengthened and thickened, then finally, feel it slowly rising.

He had no idea how long he lay there, licking her, probing his stiffened tongue up between those delicate folds of flesh, and teasing and gently flicking her clitoris. And although she didn't make a single sound to indicate what she was feeling, he could tell by the increasing wetness of her pussy that he was producing some sort of physical reaction for her.




Supernatural Ch. 09



But even so, because she had given no other indication of either her increasing arousal or excitement, he was amazed, and delighted too, when he felt her body shuddering. For a moment he was undecided as to whether to increase the speed and pressure of his mouth and tongue, or just maintain his previously unhurried pace. He chose the latter, and that seemed to have been the right decision because after another couple of minutes of that he was fully rewarded for his efforts.

He felt her entire body tense momentarily, then as the strength of the tremors rippling up through it increased, she gave a series of barely audible gasps and his mouth was suddenly filled with a rush of her nectar-like juices. Swallowing fast and quickly taking in a lungful of air, he pushed his tongue as deep as he could get it and began sucking her. Then, although the only sounds she made were more of those breathy gasps, inside his head he found he could hear her actual cries of excited delight. And they, coupled with the convulsing shudders that continued wracking her body, gave him the incentive to keep going until she'd apparently finally had enough.

But as he quickly discovered, it was only that activity that she'd had enough of. If Steve was compared with a meal to be enjoyed, he had merely provided her with a delicious entree, the main course was still to be savoured.

She pushed herself up, giving him a brief opportunity to take another look at her truly beautiful pussy, to see how wet and puffy the pouting lips had become, then moved herself back, reached down for his straining cock and after only a moment's hesitation, lowered herself down on to it.

Just the feel of her pussy-lips slipping down over his cock-head sent shivering tremors of sheer bliss coursing through his body, but almost just as strong was the sense of excited anticipation he got from watching his cock disappearing as she slowly pushed herself down on to it. Regardless of who, or what she really was, the fact that this astoundingly beautiful woman was sitting on his cock, was about to fuck him, was simply mind-blowing.

But in spite of the fuzzy cloud of unimaginable pleasure that seemed to have completely filled his mind he tried to get his eyes into focus, so he could fix the image of her, fix every single detail of her in his brain.

Her face, each perfectly proportioned feature, the deep sapphire eyes, the sensually full-lipped mouth, and the shimmering honey-gold of her truly crowning glory. Her body, the almost translucently alabaster white skin that covered its slender roundness, each line and curve exactly as most men would, if they could, describe their idea of the consummate feminine form. And of course her breasts, disproportionately large for her frame, yet in spite of their fullness, being so firm that their upsweeping curves seemed to defy not only description, but gravity itself.

Then, although he would have been content to just lie there looking up at her, she began to move up and down on his cock, and the feel of her firmly clinging pussy drove those more aesthetic thoughts right out of his head.

She rose and fell, quite slowly, perhaps for his, but more probably for her own enjoyment. But he was more than happy for her to do exactly what she was, her leisurely pace giving him time to appreciate every single thrill her movements generated. And there were many. The thrill of her pussy grazing the super-sensitive rim of his cock-head each time she moved up and down. The combination of the sparking thrills that ran back from the shaft, and the suction effect produced when she pushed herself down it. But then she added to those by reaching down for his hands, and then lifting them to her breasts.

Simply looking at them had been exciting, touching them, feeling the warm, unbelievably silkily smooth softness of her skin, feeling their firmness and their weight, was truly mind-blowing. As he closed his fingers around them he glanced up, and saw she was smiling gently down at him, and somehow knew she completely understood the depth of the feelings he was experiencing.

At first, somewhat hesitantly, he stroked them, lightly running his finger-tips over those glorious curves, and then a little later, slowly circling the rose-red nipples. When he saw them bud beneath his touch he grew more confident, still quite gently stroking and caressing her but doing so with more assurance. And later still, although he always kept at least one hand on her breasts he let the other explore whatever other parts of her glorious body he could reach.

So far as Steve was concerned being slowly fucked by the most beautiful woman imaginable was his idea of sheer heaven, and he knew that if he had been given the option he would have signed his soul away to remain in that truly blissful state.

But of course he had no control of what was to happen, and as he soon found out, didn't even have control of his own body.

He heard himself groan with disappointed despair as the first indicator of his imminent orgasm registered. Then he felt his hands gripping her breasts as the rising wave took over what little control he'd previously had, felt his entire body arching, his hips thrusting his cock higher, thrusting it even deeper into her engulfing pussy. And then, long before he wanted it to, felt it exploding.

But although he knew he had failed to give her a climax she seemed unconcerned about that, even as his cock continued jetting his semen into her she took his hands from her breasts and, supporting one, bent low and pressed its nipple to his lips. As though driven by some primal instinct he took it, and sucked, then did so more vigorously when he found his mouth filled with more of that sweet, nectar-like fluid.

While he suckled he felt her pussy tightening, literally gripping his still somehow rigidly swollen cock, and then, while holding her upper body still for him, she began moving her hips and pelvis, sometimes up and down, sometimes rotating it so his deeply embedded cock rubbed against the innermost parts of her body.

Although the supply of energy giving juices flowing from her seemed inexhaustible, from time to time she changed him from one breast to the other. Each time she did that he found that her nipples had become a little more swollen, a little longer, a little stiffer, it was as though the rose-buds they had been were preparing to burst into full bloom.

And that idea must have been closer to the truth than he could have imagined, because although it took her quite some time, and without the undoubted beneficial effects of whatever was in her milk he could never have lasted that long, she did eventually climax. 

Again she made no sound other than those low gasps he had heard before, but in his head he again heard her cries of pleasure. But then those sounds turned to cries of slowly rising, but much more intense excitement, and he found she still wasn't finished with him. She continued riding him, relentlessly, untiringly, and he could only guess that she was determined to reach some still higher level of rapture, and needed him, or at least his cock, to reach it.

Although by then it felt skinned, red-raw, whether it was because of the continuing tightness of her pussy, or from the effects of something in her milky nectar, it remained rock-hard. But equally importantly, and that could only be attributed to the effect of her juices, he felt his sexual excitement rising yet again. So that time he was able to accompany her on that journey, his re-ignited needs powering his forceful upward thrusts and enabling him to match the increasing speed and power of her actions.

They climaxed in perfect synchrony, Steve unable to really believe that his already totally drained body had been able to find even a trace of semen to contribute, but thrilled to feel something searing up through his lunging cock. And equally thrilling was the knowledge that that time he had helped to get her there too. The strength of her climax was obvious, he could both see and feel the jolting shudders rippling up through her body, feel her cunt flexing with its rhythmic contractions, and inside his head, hear her shrilly echoing cries of true ecstasy.

She continued riding him long after all the obvious signs of her rapture had faded and stilled, gradually slowing to the previous leisurely pace, then, much, much later gently stroked his face with her finger-tips as she pressed herself tightly down against him.

In spite of the powers her juices had provided he knew that the force of what had happened had drained the very last scrap of his energy and that he was about to collapse, perhaps even pass out. But there was something he simply had to know, and summoning all his remaining will-power he said. 'Your name, what is your name?'

He said that just as he lost consciousness he once again heard her voice in his head, that time much more softly. All she said was. 'Surely the world of men has not completely forgotten the name, Aphrodite.'

When he came to again he was back in his skiff, on the same heading as he had been before. He pushed himself up and looked around, but other than the ocean and a couple of gulls all he could see, slipping away towards the horizon, was a small patch of mist.

He somehow found the strength to sail safely back to the resort, by which time the events of the intervening hours had taken on a dream-like quality, and having docked the boat he hurried up to his room without stopping to talk to anyone. Once inside he stripped, his cock was as raw as it had felt during the final bout with the impossibly beautiful sex-goddess. 



Supernatural Ch. 10



Chapter 10: THE DOLL

It all began with what might in retrospect be seen as what was no more than a rather tasteless joke.

I was best man for a good friend's upcoming wedding and was in the process of making the final arrangements, including of course his stag-night. I had booked a private room at our favourite pub, organised enough food to make sure we were all fed as well as watered and of course had checked and booked the virtually obligatory stripper. But although I was sure we would all have a really good evening there was still a thought niggling away at the back of my mind, that what I'd done would ensure we would have exactly what every other stag-night had - I felt I needed to come up with something, maybe just a very little something that might make it a bit different to all the others.

I have no idea why I came up with the idea I did - although of course I had heard of them at that time I had never even seen one - but although to others it may appear to be a really dumb idea, at the time it seemed to me that presenting Josh with a sex-doll immediately after the stripper had done her stuff would give everyone a really good laugh.

There was a sex shop in a nearby suburb that I had visited a few times for the occasional porn video, so I dropped in one evening on my way home from work. It only took a quick glance around to see the section displaying the dolls and not much longer for me to realise they were absolutely hideous. In fact, apart from their colouring; some blonde, some brunette, some redhead, a few black and one or two Asian, they seemed remarkably similar - probably because the most obvious feature displayed through their packaging was their inanely gaping mouths. I guessed that presenting any one of those at the stag-night would at best be greeted with no more than a few either polite or nervous titters, so I was about to turn away in disappointed distaste when I spotted, high up and quite separate from all of the others, one final box.

What first caught my eye was the faint resemblance of its face to someone I knew - Josh's fiancée. Now there were two separate reasons for me to stop and think carefully before going further. The first would have been obvious to anyone - would using a thing that had a resemblance, no matter how slight, to the guest of honour's wife-to-be be considered either decent or humorous? But I decided that by the time it was presented most of us would either be too high or too drunk to be too concerned. The other thing was much more personal - from the first time Josh had introduced her to us I had secretly been madly in lust with Leona.

I use the word 'lust' advisedly, Leona was nothing like any woman I would ever want as a girl-friend - I thought her shallow, self-opinionated and selfish. But, physically she was a knock-out, and just the thought of maybe one day actually having the opportunity of just holding her in my arms was more than enough to give me a raging hard-on. She was tall, slenderly shapely and had breasts and legs to absolutely die for. Long, blonde hair, a full, girlishly pouty mouth and classically baby-blue eyes completed the picture. She was the absolute epitome of the kind of girl most men only ever see in the porno videos, and there had been far too many nights when the last thing I'd done was to jerk myself off while fantasising about just some of the things she might do for me.

I don't think I had any thought of actually using the doll as a surrogate for the passion I would never be able to fulfil, but then maybe at some purely subconscious level the seed of that idea did take root. But whatever the real reasons I found myself asking the shop assistant about that out of reach doll.

'I really don't know anything about that one,' he said, 'even though it came in earlier this week with one of our normal deliveries. I've never seen a model like it before and it wasn't on the invoice so I'm not even sure it was for us. But it did have a price sticker on it, and it's expensive - I can only presume it has some sort of special features because it's about three times the price of the others.'

'That's OK, it's for a mate's stag-night so price doesn't matter too much - can I have a look at it please?'

He fetched a ladder from the back of the shop and passed it down to me. On closer inspection the face was much less like Leona's than it had first seemed, so although in one way I was a little disappointed I was rather less nervous about the appropriateness of using it at the party. Anyway, I bought it, making sure I tucked the receipt for the ridiculous amount of money in my wallet so I could later repay myself from the stag-night kitty, then took the box home and just popped it in a corner.

It wasn't until three or four nights later, when I had no reason to do anything but stay at home, that I actually thought about it again. At that stage I think what prompted me was the sudden recall of something the sales assistant had said - that there must be some special features that justified the high price. Anyway, I retrieved the box and brought it out to the middle of the lounge-room, turning it over and around, fully expecting to find a list of features and instructions. There was nothing, the outside of the box was totally blank! So, thinking they must inside, I opened one end and slid the contents out on to floor.

But apart from a misshapen heap of what look like latex, there was still nothing; no instructions, no descriptive leaflet, nothing! I was perplexed, and not a little miffed - I'd spent a fair chunk of money on the thing and at that moment was absolutely sure I had simply been cheated. Maybe that's what prompted me to do what I did, some feeling that I should at least get something for what I'd spent - anyway, I picked it up and turned it over, looking for some sort of valve that would allow me to inflate it. I finally found it at the back of the head, partially hidden by the fall of the mid-length blonde wig and even though considering the price of the thing I thought they should have included some sort of hand pump, they hadn't, so I had to resort to good old-fashioned puff.

It was years since I'd last blown up balloons for a party so I had forgotten just how tiring it could be and because the doll was virtually life-size and I needed to take quite frequent breaks I found it took much longer than I'd expected. What made the early stages even more frustrating was that it had apparently been designed to inflate from the feet upwards and as it seemed to have remarkably long legs it took me ages before I saw any real sign of progress. I don't mind admitting that by the time I had blown both of those up I had lost a fair amount of interest in what was beginning to seem like a pretty useless exercise, but I pressed on and guess my enthusiasm went up a notch once I started to see the more interesting bits being filled with air.

Having seen the illustrations on the boxes of the other dolls in the shop I suppose I expected this one's pussy and anus to be just two circular, gaping holes - but they weren't. In fact once I'd got enough puff into it to firmly fill the shape of the two, remarkably attractively rounded buttocks, there was no sign of her anus and I had to ease the globes apart to find it - and was amazed to find that the latex had been moulded into a neatly puckered opening. Turning the thing over I checked out the other important access, and found it had been designed even more skilfully. Not only had the pussy itself been made from what seemed to be interleaved layers of different types of latex, but above it was an all too obvious clitoral ridge and above that a sexily fat pubic mound, neatly furred with a triangle of silkily curly hair. In fact I felt sure that if I had first viewed it in completely different circumstances and in something less than perfect light, I would have probably been able to convince myself it was a real one.

That discovery seemed to reinvigorate me, providing both the enthusiasm and energy to finish blowing it up - and, having seen what a good job had been done in moulding the pussy and buttocks I was particularly eager to see just what sort of breasts the doll had been equipped with.

Of course because the valve was at the back of the head I was denied a really good view of their gradual inflation, but if the combination of what little of them I could see and the image my hands were describing for me about the rest of them, was accurate, they were fantastic! Full - without being unnecessarily bountiful, with a youthfully firm, up-thrusting shape and tipped with prominently rosy-red nipples. In fact they felt so good I found I couldn't wait to get a proper look at them and began blowing with suddenly renewed vigour.

I was close to getting it to what I thought must be fully inflated when I heard something, and froze! At first I thought the long-drawn-out sigh meant it was leaking - but then it stopped. I gave a few more puffs, more for luck than anything else, clamped two fingers around the valve and forced the locking-piece inside it. Then I heard it again - that time it was just a little louder - and again it stopped. Before doing anything else I forced the valve down flush with the casing and then, hoping against hope I wouldn't find a hole or tear somewhere, turned the doll over and laid it down in front of me.

Even though I had already seen various parts of it, seeing it fully inflated for the first time was a real eye-opener; it was really quite beautifully made, and considering what it was, the overall effect was surprisingly sexy. But for me the real heart-stopper was the fact that, as my first sight of it way up on the shelf had made it seem, the face was strikingly similar to Leona's!

I could neither see nor hear any sign of any sort of leakage and stood there looking down at it lying at my feet, the face and body that for months had haunted my fantasies. The face; the eyes that I had longed to see gazing deeply and adoringly into mine, the lips I had imagined either passionately responding to my kiss, or sliding lasciviously down over my cock. The breasts, that until then I had never really been able to clearly picture but had all too often dreamed of holding and fondling. The legs, those incredibly long and almost too perfectly shaped legs that I had frequently longed to feel wrapped tightly around me. And, in between, the core, the pussy that I had somehow known would be tight, juicy, and capable of giving me what could only be described as the ultimate climax.

As I stood there, remembering all the times I had imagined Leona just like that, lying, waiting, I felt my cock thickening, felt it stiffening, and in a matter of what seemed like just a few short moments it was pressing almost painfully against my trousers.

I don't know if I simply rationalised that I should check to make sure that the doll wasn't actually leaking prior to the upcoming stag-night, or if that sudden rush of blood to my cock triggered a deep, long suppressed need. But whatever the cause, I found myself carrying it to my bedroom and stripping off trousers and pants, then taking out the tube of lubricant I kept in the bedside cabinet. Having made sure I'd liberally coated the full, rigidly straining length, I held the doll still as I positioned myself between its legs, and then thrust forward.

For one heart-stopping moment I thought that first push had reopened the cause of the suspected leakage, even as I was thrilling at the feelings the cunningly crafted pussy was providing I heard that same, long drawn-out sighing sound. But again it stopped and the sensations I was getting were far too strong to simply pass-up, and I continued, but, just in case the thing suddenly began deflating, thrust harder and faster than usual.

In my imagination it was Leona's body that was welcoming me, it was her eyes that were sparkling with her rapidly increasing pleasure, her nipples that were tightening in response to her rising excitement, her arms that were holding me tightly, her legs that were rising to grip and pull me down into her, her pussy that was clenching my cock as the first stage of her orgasm began rippling through her.

Then, even as I felt the gut-churning signs of my own impending climax I felt sure I had actually started hallucinating, either that or the long weeks of fantasising about Leona had tipped me over the edge of madness. I realised that the doll was doing all the things I had only imagined Leona would have done! Its eyes were focussed on mine, and sparkling with delighted pleasure. Its arms were wound up around me, holding me tight. Its legs were wrapped around my waist, combining with my thrusting and tugging me even more powerfully down into her. And her pussy was rhythmically gripping me, as though urging my cock to spew the full load of semen that was just about to be pumped up through it.

But whether it was hallucination or madness at that stage it simply didn't matter, and certainly didn't have the power to stop the inevitable - I came - coupled by a long series of hoarse, chokingly guttural grunts, my cock exploded, again, and again, and again, until I must have literally flooded her with semen.

Yet even through the foggily blurring haze that enveloped me as I climaxed I also heard a voice, high-pitched, and crying out with all too obvious exhilaration - 'Yes, yes, that's exactly what I need! Yes, more, more, please give me even more of your miraculously life-giving seed!'

Once finished, I rolled off and lay there as I tried to catch my still unevenly panting breaths. But if I thought that my senses would then start to return to something like normal, I was wrong, the voice that I had rationalised could have only come from inside my sex-addled head, sounded again - and what was truly disturbing, that time I could tell the sound had come from between the full, cherry-red lips of the doll.

Its head had actually turned towards me, the eyes looking straight into mine, then those lips formed a perfectly dazzling smile, and then it said. 'Aah, you have not only blown your breath of life into me, you have now also given me a little of your seed - thank you.'

Even as it spoke I saw a gradual transformation apparently happening; the latex itself seemed to take on a more skin-like hue, the wig seemed softer - the hair hanging more naturally, and the face of the doll became even more animated.

As we well know, when faced with danger or terror most animals have evolved with a choice of two reactions - freeze, or flight. Right then my subconscious systems kicked-in, but rather than leaping up and fleeing from the room, I froze. Even when it pushed itself up off the bed and stood beside it, looking down at me, I could do no more than simply sit there, staring open-mouthed up at it.

It seemed as though it somehow understood my reaction, making no attempt to scare me further by sitting beside me, and before speaking again crossed the room to one of the chairs, sat down, and crossed those long, and now very supple legs. 'I can imagine this is all very strange for you - perhaps even a little frightening. But there is no need of fear, far from it, I am here merely to do your bidding. As I said, you have infused a little of your life into me, I am yours - to do with as you please. The name I have been given is Laurie, and my only purpose, and pleasure, is to give you enjoyment and gratification.' it said quite matter of factly.

I think I tried to say something, I don't know what, but all that came out was a sort of croaking wheeze.

She smiled. 'I suggest that for now you don't bother yourself with questions. Try to merely suspend your natural disbelief. Accept me for what I am, take pleasure from what I can do. There will be plenty of time for questions later - for now, satisfy your needs with me. Of course if I do not fulfil those you can always just get rid of me - though of course I sincerely hope that isn't to be my immediate fate.' she added with a wickedly knowing look in her eyes.

Again I tried to respond, but again nothing intelligible came out, and so she spoke once more. 'What we have just done was certainly pleasurable - and, as I said, your seed has helped me to attain this level of life-like simulation. My understanding is that the more you give me, the greater will be my abilities - so I think we each have a mutual interest in your degree of virility and potency. I will certainly do all I can to ensure my physical appeal to you and hope you will be frank as to how I can best enhance whatever you wish me to do for you.'

I literally pinched myself to make sure I wasn't actually dreaming, and when the sharp pain in my thigh convinced me I wasn't, although I couldn't keep the sheer incredulity out of my voice I did finally managed to put two words together. 'Do you really expect me to believe that you have somehow come to life?'

'Life-like Mike, life-like. Although in most areas of the kind of life you live my skills and abilities are extremely limited, here, with you, and in matters of sexual performance, I am as, if not even more life-like than most women you have ever known. As I will be more than happy to prove to you.' she added with the same wickedly mischievous smile she had given me a few moments earlier.

'So, and let me get this straight, you're just a life-like fucking machine. Is that what you're telling me?'

'At this stage, yes, that's more or less right. Though, as I said, my feeling is that the more seed you give me, the more truly life-like I will become. But only time, and the level of our physical activities will prove if I am right about that. And as to that, let me say that if you could find me as desirable as you obviously did even when I was still totally inanimate, I think you will have little trouble in being more than fully satisfied with me now that I can contribute much more actively.'

Although I still wasn't convinced I had neither gone mad nor was simply hallucinating, I couldn't deny that even though I'd just had what felt like a totally draining orgasm, just the sight of her sitting there was certainly getting to me. But then that probably really wasn't too surprising, after all, for weeks I'd had no more than a fantasised image of Leona to masturbate to, now it seemed I had a 'life-like', totally naked, and obviously all too willing version sitting near me.

Maybe the doll - Laurie, somehow understood what was happening to me, because after just a few moments silence, she spoke again. 'So, would you like me to demonstrate just a little of what I am capable of?' she added as she pushed herself up off the chair.

I struggled unsuccessfully to resolve the conflicting emotions I felt as I watched her coming closer; on the one hand, what was happening was simply impossible and I should simply reject it - on the other, this epitome of everything I found sexy in a woman was approaching my bed-side and I wanted her. But, if there had in fact ever been any doubt as to which of the two would actually prove stronger, when she bent forward over me, took one of my hands and lifted it to her breast, I surrendered. 

It was warm, warm and with unbelievably silky smooth skin, and, as my fingers gently tightened around it, I found the flesh beneath that skin felt firm, firm yet yielding. 'Aah, that feels good Mike.' she sighed softly. 'For now, please be gentle, there will be times when you can do whatever you wish with me, but for now, be tender.'

Just the feel of her breast was so good I was more than happy to comply and lifted my other hand so I could caress both of them - and for a few minutes we did no more than that, she bending forward so I could fully enjoy just stroking and fondling her.

But although she made sounds of her own obvious enjoyment of what I was doing, in hindsight I think she was also using that time to allow my physical responses to recharge themselves because once she sensed some subtle change in the nature of my fondling I felt her hand reaching down, then sliding slowly up between my legs. My cock twitched as her fingers lightly brushed against it, then did so a little more strongly as they gently encircled and began pulling the loose skin down along it. 'Wouldn't you like to kiss my breasts, suck my nipples Mike? I would very much like you to do that for me.' she whispered provocatively as she bent a little lower.




Supernatural Ch. 10



It was a silly question, and as that too was something I'd been longing to do for weeks I certainly needed no further encouragement. Her breast felt just as good in my mouth as it had in my hand and as I kissed, licked and suckled it, that, plus the feel of her slow but insistent stroking of my cock soon reignited my arousal.

Then, once she was apparently satisfied with the strength of my erection, she spoke again. 'I can feel that you want me, but I think you need a little more time to fully recover all your strength - so allow me to do this for you.' she whispered before getting up on the bed and moving my legs so she could kneel between them.

Regardless of any other thoughts I might have had as to what we might do together, from the moment I felt her lips slipping down over my cock I knew I would be utterly helpless to do anything other than submit to what she intended. And although I've had many, many blow-jobs from women, some fantastic, others merely excellent - I can honestly say I had never, ever had anything that could even remotely be compared with the one she then gave me.

Quite apart from everything else she did - the amazingly skilful way she used her hands and fingers, the slow yet determined way she slid her lips up and down my cock, and the utterly blissful feelings I got from the moist warmth of her mouth completely engulfing me - it was the sheer strength of the vacuuming suction she was able to produce that gave me what I felt sure would have to be a once in a lifetime experience.

Even before I was anywhere near to actually climaxing the strength and effectiveness of it was all too apparent, it felt as though what she was doing was draining blood from other parts of me and diverting it up into my cock. Within a short space of time it had become even bigger and harder than I would have thought possible and when she didn't have most of it jammed down her throat, I could see that the shaft was both thicker and much more darkly veined than I'd ever seen it. Then by the time I eventually felt that all too familiar deep, surging rush beginning, the power of her sucking made it feel as though my body was literally being pulled inside out. And, when the full force of it hit me the result was much more like some long capped geyser exploding than any climax I'd ever previously experienced.

She gurgled happily as she attempted to make sure she wasted none of it, swallowing hard as she eagerly continued sucking several more unusually gut-wrenching loads up out of me, and only reluctantly relinquishing her grip when she was absolutely sure I had not another drop left in me.

After such a massively draining orgasm, and with both my long-concealed yearnings and my much more immediate needs at least temporarily sated, it wasn't surprising that it was some time before I could do more than simply lie there. At first she rested quietly beside me, her arms encircling me and her warm curves moulded close to the length of my body, and as my racing heart and sense of exhaustion slowly returned to something more like normal, I had a little time to think.

I'm not really sure if at that time I had fully accepted what to a purely rational mind should have clearly been impossible - but I do know that as I lay there I was already thinking about the possibilities. If, and it was of course a very big if, if what the doll, she, Laurie, had told me was really true - that it, she was in fact something I could think of as being no more than a life-like fucking device - well, regardless of why, how, or where it had come from, why not enjoy it! If nothing else, it was certainly better than just having to rely on imagining I was with Leona while I masturbated.

And if that was true - and with it, her, Laurie being such an amazingly good facsimile of Leona - why shouldn't I use the opportunity I'd been given to do some of the things I had until then only been able to fantasise of doing with my dream-girl.

Now, unlike many men I knew, who admitted they only did it under sufferance, as a way of making sure that in return they would get their share of blow-jobs, I loved going-down on a woman. I loved everything about it; loved the smell of a woman in heat, loved the feel of having her thighs wrapped around my head, loved the sense of power I got from feeling her writhing in helpless delight, I even loved the bitter-sweet taste of her pussy-juices. And many, many times I'd taken myself to a climax while just imagining I could feel Leona's adorable pussy responding to my tongue and fingers.

So I put two and two together, and decided that once I had recovered just a little more energy, that would be my next move.

At just about that moment I felt Laurie stirring beside me. 'I think you enjoyed that.' she whispered.

'That's an under-statement; I've never, ever felt anything like that.' I answered.

'That's nice to know; your body is certainly incredibly responsive, and you have a wonderful cock, so big, so forceful - and you gave me an amazing amount of your seed. I'm sure it's already working inside me, sure I am already becoming much more truly life-like.' she paused for a moment then continued. 'When I had you in my hands, in my mouth, feeling the strong, utterly masculine force rising inside you, I felt myself responding, felt stirrings inside me, felt feelings that until then I had only known of in the abstract. They are very strong, very powerful feelings Mike.' she added almost wistfully.

I turned on to my side and looked at her; her expression was thoughtful, a slight frown creased her forehead and her eyes had a far-away almost yearning look in them. Resting my hand on her hip I said, 'And just where did you find those feelings were strongest Laurie, down here?' I asked as I let my fingers slip down over her abdomen.

She gasped, 'Oh yes Mike, yes!' she replied, perhaps purely instinctively making enough room for my hand by lifting one knee.

She was wet, amazingly wet; even when I first slid my fingers down over her thigh I felt the moisture that had coated the inside of it, and when I slipped them higher I found a veritable swamp; her pussy was hot, wet and steamy.

'I know exactly what you need.' I said as I pushed myself downwards, then rolled her on to her back and spread her legs wide apart.

I gorged on her! There's no other word to describe the way I went about it, nor the amount of pleasure I received from doing so. To me she was like some wildly exotic feast and her all too succulent pussy was its centrepiece, a dish with a headily spicy aroma and a totally intoxicating taste. But although I spent most of that time lovingly savouring it I didn't ignore the rest of what was on offer; often returning to lick, suck and fondle each breast, moving higher to take my first, but by no means last taste of her mouth, and in between stroking, licking and caressing each and ever other part of her.

It was obvious that she was ecstatic at what I was doing for her and because she was so responsive I soon lost count of the number of climaxes I was able to give her. Some were small, no more than exhilaratingly shuddering releases, others were obviously much stronger and far more deeply centred, and others seemed to be just one in a series of steadily rolling orgasms.

And of course, as it always did, even though I was concentrating on generating pleasure for her, what I was doing was re-firing my own excitement. I have always found that just the smell of a woman's sex is enough to start giving me an erection, licking and sucking her pussy works even faster, and having a woman who responds with genuine enthusiasm to what I am doing will quickly make it throbbingly rock-hard.

With Laurie my cock had everything going for it; smell, taste and eager receptiveness - and long before I had finished with her I could feel both my and its all too predictable reaction, feel its reinvigorated strength, and even a still growing but unquestionable ache in my balls.

After one, apparently even more shatteringly massive climax Laurie finally pushed me away. 'Enough, that's enough!' she plaintively mewled. Then, as I finally lifted my head from her, she added. 'That was wonderful, absolutely wonderful Mike - but you know you didn't have to do it, the sole reason for my being here is your pleasure - not you for mine.' she added with a wicked giggle.

I wiped some of her juices from around my mouth before replying. 'I assure you it was my pleasure too Laurie - you have a very sweet-tasting pussy.'

'I'm glad you like it, it's all yours, whenever you want it - you know that too. But,' she said as she pushed herself upwards, 'now I'll have to think of something extra special to do for you in return.'

As she lifted herself her eyes dropped down to my crotch, where she saw the result of the excitement I'd felt while going down on her. 'Oh my, you're already hard again - will you let my try something completely different for you?' she asked as she reached forward to curl her fingers around the stiffened length.

'Of course.'

'Good - get up on your hands and knees then.'

Needless to say I wasn't at all sure what she had in mind but by that time if what she'd already done for me was a fair demonstration of her capabilities I was more than prepared to sample anything she suggested.

Once I was in position Laurie moved behind me then, having spread my legs a little wider, wound one arm around me to take hold of my cock and used the fingers of the other to spread my buttocks apart. I felt her warm breath on my backside, a series of licks and kisses on each cheek, then gasped as I felt her tongue sliding up and down the crack between them.

At first her caresses were quite undemanding; her tongue teasing flickeringly, her gentle fingers stroking unhurriedly, but even so there was no doubt as to their effectiveness, I felt not only my slowly growing excitement, but also a heightened sense of anticipation as to just what it was she planned to do for me nest. My excitement went up a few notches when I felt her using just the tip of her tongue to circle and lightly probe my anus, then couldn't control the violent shudders that rippled through me when it actually began to push between the tightly bunched muscles.

That, for me, unusual stimulation had an almost immediate effect and I felt my cock surge as a completely different form of pleasure swept through me. Her fingers tightened slightly as my suddenly re-energised cock began throbbing jerkily, then as some purely automatic response relaxed me, her tongue broke through the ring of muscle and pushed inside. It slid back and forth a few times, each movement sending a shock wave of delight coursing right through me, then her hand picked-up the rhythm and started stroking my juddering cock in time with her probing tongue.

Perhaps sensing and somehow measuring the slow but steady rebuilding of my potency she patiently maintained that unhurried but exciting combination of movements - ignoring my loud panting grunts of steadily increasing pleasure while she waited for a clear and unambiguous signal that my body was slowing starting to build-up to a climax.

Then, when she was satisfied that was happening, what she did was not only unthinkable, it was impossible! To my absolute amazement her tongue - and because I could still feel both of her hands on me, I knew it had to be her tongue - began to push deeper, even deeper; reaching way beyond where any normal tongue could have, probing, searching for that inner trigger-spot.

The pressure inside me shot sky-high when she found it; and as her tongue began teasing and tickling it I felt the already quite painful ache in my balls growing even stronger and my cock surging from the amount of fresh blood being pumped into it. But even as that was happening I also became aware that her insistently kneading tongue was producing somewhere deep, deep inside me feelings I had never previously experienced, feelings so unfamiliar yet so strangely powerful that in some ways they alarmed me. A few moments later it felt as though every single drop of fluid was being marshalled, being whirl-pooled together and drawn to one single place - and that was somewhere immediately behind the base of my uncontrollably jerking cock.

Then, as though her tongue had actually curled around the gland and begun deliberately squeezing it I reacted as though ever single nerve, fibre and muscle had been connected to a single, massive power source, I literally erupted!

But unlike any previously experienced climax, which I could expect to produce a series of at least half a dozen large but separate spurts of semen, most of that one came in one thick, continuous jet, blasting out of me with such force that it squirted the full length of the bed and created a large sticky pool on the pillow.

Then, unlike any normal woman, who would have been more than satisfied to have given her man such a massively powerful orgasm, Laurie continued working me over. Because by then she had her face pushed hard down against my buttocks she no longer needed one hand to hold them apart, and I realised she was using it to cup and fondle my balls. Both hands, and especially her tongue more than redoubled their stimulation, and, almost unbelievably, were effective! The sensations I'd felt earlier returned, just as strongly; my cock pulsing, the dull ache in my balls re-intensifying, and, over-riding even those and as though seeking to drown all my normal senses in its whirling vortex, that extraordinary, and overwhelmingly powerful dizzying rush.

As her tongue applied its pressure, the hand around my cock pumped and the one holding my balls began gripping just a little more tightly, all three following a single, compellingly driving beat - a beat that drained whatever semen was left in the innermost and normally untapped reservoirs and powered it upwards. Then even through the blurring red haze of sheer ecstasy that seemed to have enveloped me, I looked down and watched as a long series of large, grossly misshapen gobbets of semen blasted out of my cock, each one sploshing messily in the pool from my first eruption.

Although she had given me what was undoubtedly the ultimate climax - and even though I still got a frisson of excitement when her tongue slid slowly back out of my arse-hole - at that moment I was feeling so utterly drained and exhausted I was in some ways grateful to feel her releasing me when she sensed I was finally totally emptied.

But then she again amazed me, even as I was flopping down to recover she slid past me and began eagerly lapping and sucking up every last drop from the pool of semen on the pillow. 'Waste not, want not - I think that's what you would say.' she giggled as she licked the last traces from her lips before settling herself down beside me. 'I think you really enjoyed that.' she added softly.

Because I was still having a great deal of trouble in catching my breath it took me a while to answer. 'I've never experienced anything even remotely like that Laurie. And I'm not even sure I want to know just how you did what you did.' I added.

'It would seem that I was given an extendable tongue.' she replied, giving me the same wickedly mischievous grin I'd seen before, and added, 'And I think you'll look forward to me using it again, some other time.'

'The way I feel at the moment I think it will be some time before I'm capable of responding to anything, or to any part of you.' I answered wearily.

'Oh I doubt that - I think a little rest will work wonders for you.'

She was right of course; some food, drink and the sight of her casually naked body stretched out on the sofa was enough to re-fire both my interest and my capability and less than hour after what I'd thought would be final climax, at least for that evening, we were back on the bed and I was fucking her, vigorously.

Although both her physical perfection and her skilfully enthusiastic use of her body were in themselves exhilarating she also added to my excitement by saying all the things a man loves to hear when he's fucking a woman; things like - 'Oh Mike, it feels as though your cock is splitting me wide open - but I love it, don't stop!'

'Oh, oh, you're getting so deep - I'm sure you're getting into places no man's supposed to - but I love that too, please dig it even deeper!'

'Shit you're so powerful - I'm sure most other men would have already come by now - what you're doing to me is just too wonderful and I can't hold back any longer - I'm coming, I'm commiiingggg!'

'You're absolutely fantastic darling - and you're still not finished - keep going, please, please just keep going!'

Oh, again? I can't believe this, I'm coming again! Now bury your cock deep inside me - right up to the hilt - come with me, come now, flood my cunt with your life-giving jism!'

And even after that session I still managed to do it yet one more time before finally falling asleep, though to be honest, I was more than happy to leave it to Laurie to both give me that erection and to provide most of the energy required. But, if it were possible she seemed to get even more enjoyment and satisfaction out of doing it by squatting astride me than she had when I was on top of her. 

My over-full bladder woke me during the night and while I was in the bathroom it occurred to me that taking a piss was yet another thing I didn't think people dreamed about actually doing. Then it also occurred to me that perhaps I should document the weird things that had seemed to be happening to me - just in case I wasn't either dreaming or hallucinating.

************

I have to say I'm not really sure what made me do this, what made me decide to put this down on my PC. Maybe it's just that in at least one part of my brain I have simply been unable to accept that all this is actually happening, that in some way I prefer to believe it's just some sort of long drawn out dream. And even though I've never heard of anyone being able to document the details of their brain's flights of fancy while they were still continuing to dream them, that doesn't mean that isn't really possible. So I'll continue - then when, or if I do wake up I'll still have a record of everything I experienced.

It's been five days now, five days and much of the five nights too - five days and nights of the next best thing to virtually continuous fucking; well, to be accurate, sucking, jerking and lots and lots of variations of fucking. Of course I have had some sleep, though it's usually been when I have simply collapsed from sheer exhaustion, but in all that time I haven't even stepped outside the apartment and the only daylight I've seen has been what has come streaming in through the windows. Luckily, I always keep a good supply of basics in the fridge and cupboards so the fact that I haven't been able to go shopping hasn't meant I've had to starve - and Laurie assures me that she gets all the nutrition she needs from the semen she drains out of me. And she's certainly had plenty of that!

But somehow in the next twenty-four hours I'll have to find a way of calming Laurie's up to now apparently insatiable appetite; I have to get back to work on Monday, and if I'm to be anywhere near fit for that, I'll just have to get some properly undisturbed sleep.

While I'm doing this I'll just add this note - it's odd how when you spend so much time with someone you pick-up on their quirky little mannerisms. With Laurie it's teasing the back of my neck with her finger-nails. Until now I hadn't realised how sensitive the back of my head and neck could be, but once she discovered that she certainly made the most of it! But now her actions are verging on the obsessive, not an hour seems to pass when, regardless of whatever else we are doing to and with each other, I feel her finger-tips playing around there, sometimes it actually feels as though she's searching for something - some spot she expects to find there. Very odd!




Supernatural Ch. 10



************

Well, well, well, what a busy boy he was! Given how much energy he expended in making me what I am now I'm really surprised he had anything left to do all this, and if I'd known I might have diverted it to get another two or three loads of semen out of him instead. Never mind, I'm more than satisfied with what he has helped me achieve.

All that's left for me to do now is to take the box back to where he bought me from - I wonder if they'll let me exchange it for a few of those fancy toys I know they stock. But that doesn't really matter, I'll soon find myself a guy who will be more than happy to buy me whatever I need - let's face it a woman who looks like me, and who can do all the cute things I've learned, need never go hungry - especially as all I need to fill me is a man with a good supply of lovely thick semen.

But I do remain curious about one thing - I wonder if the person who eventually buys the Mike-doll will be a woman, or a man?



Supernatural Ch. 11



Chapter 11: AN ITALIAN IDYLL

Although it may at first seem irrelevant, to understand something of what may have triggered the events I'm about to tell you about I should give you a brief description of myself.

At the time I was twenty, 'a young woman just coming into full bloom', so to speak. When meeting people for the first time many, especially other women, would, and still do say things like - 'What remarkable colouring you have.', 'Brown eyes and red hair, how unusual.', 'Aren't you lucky to have such lovely olive skin, rather than the freckles red-heads usually have.' - stuff like that.

And it's true, I am lucky, very lucky to have the colouring I have, although my hair is actually a dark auburn, not true red. Anyway, I have this unusual combination of auburn hair, brown eyes and olive skin, which, if I bothered about it, which I don't, actually tans quite beautifully in Summer.

I'm told that the combination pops up from time to time on my mother's side of the family, but only in the girls, and that it's thought to go back to the time of Elizabeth the first. My great-grandmother, who had it too, originally came from Ireland, from a village somewhere on the West coast, and legend has it that during the scattering of the Spanish Armada several sailors were washed ashore there, and because they were catholic they were given refuge. They were young, once they'd recovered from their ordeal, fit, and as they were sailors, easily fitted into a fishing community. And as they were a bit different to the other lads some of the girls would undoubtedly have found them excitingly attractive. So the inevitable happened, one or two girls probably got pregnant, and being good catholics, married, and proceeded to have several more babies.

There must have been one such union between a classic Irish colleen, red hair, pale skin, etcetera, and a dark, swarthy Spaniard, because from time to time a girl pops up with the combination I've got.

Anyway that's the explanation in my family.

I said it's mostly women who make comments about my colouring, and that's because most men initially only see one thing, my tits. I suppose I've been lucky there too and I'll certainly never have to worry about considering breast enhancement, though sometimes the ogling gets a bit tiresome. Not that they're enormous, they are actually inside the upper range of standard fittings for bras. It's just that as they are high-set and very firm most clothes with any sort of neck-line show off rather a lot of them. And as the rest of my body is, well I suppose slender is the most appropriate word, that seems to exaggerate their size just that little bit more.

So that's me, not bad looking, a good figure, especially if you're a man who likes tits, and with a pretty unusual combination of hair, eyes and skin colouring.

Anyway, all that's really only relevant if you try to make some sort of sense of what happened to me.

So, I was twenty, just, I had done reasonably well at high school, well enough to scrape into medical school at university, which was what my parents had been hoping for, but maths and science had always been a struggle and long before the end of first year I knew I wasn't going to be able to cope. My exam results confirmed that and although my parents were very disappointed, I'd had enough time to think about options and was able to talk them round to agreeing to what I thought would be best for me.

A couple of other girls at university were in the same position as I was and after several years of not much more than intensive studying they had decided to take a year off, to travel. My grandmother, who had died a few years earlier, had left me a few thousand dollars, not much, but enough to pay for a return air fare, and if I managed things very carefully, to eat and move around for three or four months. So I decided to join them, the three of us were going to see what we could of Europe.

As I said, it took a bit of persuasion but my parents, with some misgivings, eventually agreed, and Dad even chipped-in a bit more money, 'for emergencies', he said.

So there we were, three young women off to see the world, well at least a fair bit of Europe.

Although as I've said, maths and science had been my weakness, languages were one of my strengths. I'd done particularly well in Italian and as the city has a large Italian community I was able to use it regularly so my conversational skills had continued to improve. Studying the language had also given me an interest in the country's history and culture and although I of course wanted to see other places too, I was planning to spend more of my trip in Italy.

The three of us stuck together most of the time, mainly for moral support, but also out of lingering concerns for our individual safety I suppose. But although the others were happy to come with me to Italy they weren't as interested as I was in visiting historical buildings or ferreting around in a variety of smaller towns. So while in Florence we agreed to split up, just for a few days, they would move on to Milan, where I would join them after exploring the less often visited areas in the hills to the north-west.

So, finally, to what happened to me.

It was nearly mid-day, I was in the hills between La Spezia and Parma, and because I was trying to reach a church in a fairly remote village that I'd heard contained some particularly fine frescos from the fifteenth century, I was temporarily stranded on a minor, and not very heavily trafficked road.

Because of my interest in the Italian culture I knew enough to dress relatively modestly when visiting churches or travelling around the countryside, but given how hot it gets there in Summer I had arrived at what I thought was a reasonable compromise. Most of the time I wore admittedly low-necked, loose fitting tops, but carried a light jacket that I could put on whenever necessary. And although I wore a skirt that fell below the knee, my favourite was a wrap-around, so any available breeze could get under the flap and keep my legs cool. Underneath those things I wore just pretty skimpy, lightweight undies and the combination had worked fine, keeping me comfortably cool on even the hottest days.

I happened to have been dropped off beside one of the thousands of roadside shrines you find scattered around the countryside and although not particularly large it did offer a little shade from the sun. And as there was a largish chunk of rock just beside it I decided it was as good a time as any to have the lunch I had brought with me. So, having slipped off my jacket and moved the skirt around so that what little breeze there was could get up under it, I began to eat.

Not a single vehicle went past me all the time I was eating, and as it was several hot and dusty kilometres back to a major road, I started to worry that I might actually be stranded there. But then I heard the sound of an approaching motor, and although I couldn't see it, it seemed to be heading the way I wanted to go. I knew I didn't have much time so I hastily jammed the rubbish in my small back-pack, grabbed my jacket and went out on to the road side so I could be seen.

It was a lorry, a small one with just an open flat-top behind the cabin, and although it gleamed as though it had just come out of the show-room, I could see from it's shape that it was actually old, very old. It looked like those vehicles you see at veteran car rallies, where each vehicle has been lovingly restored by someone. I briefly wondered what on earth a vehicle like that was doing on a road like this, then ignored that and just stuck my thumb out for a lift.

It stopped, and as I hurried over to it the driver swung the passenger door open. I stood there, smiling up into the shadowy cabin, and saw a young man, a darkly handsome young man, with the blackest, thickest, curly hair I'd ever seen.

I said hello, and asked if he was going anywhere near the village I was heading for.

For a moment or two he said nothing, just stared at me, not the way most men do, down at my tits, but at my face. His eyes were the most amazing colour, as black as his hair, but not opaque, so when I looked into them I felt I was actually looking down into pools of some inky liquid, and that gave me a very odd, somewhat disturbing feeling. But there was also a strange look in them, and also on his face, as though he was seeing something he knew to be impossible. We use the phrase, 'seeing a ghost', and that's exactly how I would have described the expression I saw on his face.

Then he seemed to mentally give himself a shake, and although his accent was thick, and his dialect had an odd formality about it, I found I could still understand him. He said he could take me where I wanted to go, so I thanked him as I climbed up into the cabin. As I did so he finally did what I'd initially expected him to do, he looked down, at my tits. And as I hadn't had time to put my jacket back on and pulling myself up into the cabin made the neck of my top gape open, he would have had a pretty good view of them.

But funnily enough it didn't worry me the way it often did. Maybe it was because he was such a good-looking guy, maybe it was something I had momentarily glimpsed in those all too liquid eyes. Whatever it was, I found that having him looking at me, rather than being predictably boring, gave me a distinctly warm feeling up between my legs.

The moment passed, I settled into the seat and we moved off up the road. Naturally enough we chatted, and although from time to time I had to ask him to repeat something I hadn't properly understood, and his conversation remained a bit stilted, and with that odd formality, we talked reasonably freely.

His name was Guiliano, Giani to his family and friends, and said he would be honoured if I would use that name. I told him mine, Jessica, more frequently just Jessie, and said I would feel likewise if he would use that. I complimented him on his lorry, said how immaculately he maintained it, and asked if he was taking it to, or bringing it from some sort of show. He didn't seem to understand my meaning, said it was used for every day things, that he liked to keep it clean, that his woman liked it that way. 

I found that word odd, at least coming from a man who was obviously from the country, from outside the major, more modern cities. He wasn't wearing a ring, as all married Italian men do, and the word he used to describe the woman in his life implied a physical union. But I let it pass, and though I admit that the chance of finding such a sexually attractive young man without at least one girl-friend was unlikely, I did have a sense of disappointment.

I suppose we had been talking for about fifteen minutes or so, during which time I had explained the reason for my visit to the particular village, my interest in the older aspects of the culture of this part of the country. He said little as I talked about that and even after I had finished, remained silent for a little while. But then he spoke. 'Have you heard of St. Theresia?' He asked.

I said I hadn't and asked who she was. He paused for a moment before saying. 'There is a church, it contains something special, something you must see!'

He spoke with such passion that the feeling I'd had when I felt his eyes on me as I got up into the cabin, returned, only that time even more strongly. When I asked him what this thing was, he refused to answer me, saying just that I, and accentuating the 'I', had to see it. Then adding that as it was not too far off the road we were on, he should take me there.

My plans were flexible, I was undoubtedly intrigued by whatever had made him so vehement about seeing this thing, and I admit that the thought of spending a bit more time with him was attractive too. So I agreed he should take me.

He turned and for the first time since he'd stopped the lorry, he smiled. What can I say about that smile? I've heard women say they have gone weak at the knees when a certain man smiled at them, and I've always thought they must have actually been a bit weak in the head. But that's just how I felt, though it wasn't my knees that turned to jelly, it was my cunt. In fact it felt as though everything inside me from the waist down had simply liquefied, turning into a sort of warm, mushy soup. And although all that was hidden, the flush I felt spreading over my face wasn't, and nor was what had happened to my breasts and especially my nipples, they felt as though they were trying to poke their way clean through both my bra and the thin, cotton top.

I smiled weakly and then in case he could see my reaction reflected in my eyes I lowered them, but that was a mistake. The baggy, working men's, khaki shorts he was wearing had ridden up during the time he had been driving, leaving a long length of darkly furred, well muscled thigh showing. I wanted to reach across and touch one, trace the line of the ridge of muscle, feel its strength. And, even more disturbingly, found myself imagining what was still hidden beneath the shorts, the thick mass of pubic hair, and especially his cock and balls.

Although still relatively young I was no blushing virgin, I'd been having sex off and on for several years and by then I'd had half a dozen different guys in my bed, plus a couple of one-nighters I preferred not to remember. But I had never reacted that quickly or that strongly to any of them, and had certainly never experienced the kind of thoughts that I found rushing through my head.

But somehow I calmed myself down a bit and tried to cover my distraction by re-starting the somewhat formal conversation we had been having, asking Giani where he came from and what he did for a living. He seemed reluctant to talk about himself and his replies were somewhat monosyllabic, but it didn't matter, just exchanging even meaningless words passed a little more time, and I needed a bit more of that just to calm the turmoil inside me.

We turned off a little further along, and took a dusty, gravel road that began climbing higher into the hills, following that for perhaps a dozen kilometres before we arrived at the village. Apart from a couple of stray dogs the place seemed deserted, then I realised that at that time of day the families were either having their mid-day meal, or if they had finished it, taking their traditional snooze. Giani drove through the small, central square and around behind the church that filled one side of it.

As we drove around it I could tell it was obviously extremely old, and in need of a fair bit of maintenance, but other than that there didn't seem to be anything special about it. We stopped, and having grabbed my jacket I got down from the lorry and followed Giani to a small door at the side of the building. It was open and we went inside, and although still pleasantly warm, compared with the heat outside it felt as though we had walked into an air-conditioned building.

I moved into the centre aisle and looked around me, there were the usual ornately decorative statues and paintings, a stained glass window above the gaudily gilded altarpiece, the pulpit and behind it the confessional cubicles, and rows and rows of probably mostly unused pews. As far as I could see, apart from its obvious age, there was nothing particularly special or unusual about the church.

Giani hadn't said a word, just stood silently beside me as I looked around, then he took my hand and indicated we should go back towards the main entrance to the church. It was a perfectly normal thing to do, but it was the first physical touch between us and just the feel of his fingers closing around mine triggered exactly the same feelings I'd had in the lorry. My legs didn't seem to want to work properly and feeling like some incompetent fool I stumbled along beside him.

Ahead of us were the large double doors, closed of course, and off to one side a small chapel, with a heavily carved font, but Giani was taking me to the opposite side, where there was another, but even smaller chapel.

By comparison with the rest of the church, which was, to be kind, looking pretty dilapidated, that area, although so small there was only room for a single pew, was obviously well cared for. There were several candles burning, a couple of gilt vases with fresh flowers, and other touches that made it apparent that people came there regularly.

Then I saw the stained glass window, like everything else there it was only small, and although I was certainly no expert, it was clearly nowhere near as old as the things in the rest of the building. 'Move closer, look at her.' Giani whispered, giving me a little push towards the window.

I did as he suggested, and gasped, it was me, or at least a young woman who looked almost exactly like me.

She had the same dark auburn hair, the same olive complexion and although her eyes were looking downward, I could see they were the same, light brown colour as mine.

But apart from being an almost identical twin, what made the image really disconcerting was what was obviously about to happen to her. From the rags she was wearing, the rope tying her to a tall wooden pole, and the pile of faggots beneath her, I deduced she was about to burnt.

'St. Theresia.' Giani whispered emotionally, then added in an even lower, slightly hoarse voice. 'And my woman - and - Jessie.'

As he spoke my name he slipped his arms around me, pulling me back against himself, then burying his face in the curve of my neck. I felt his mouth kissing me, burning my flesh, felt his hands moving over my body, felt the smouldering heat inside me flicker, then the fire catching, felt it searing up through every part of me.

I pushed his hands down and tried to pull away, but instead found myself just turning around to face him, reaching around to grip his buttocks, pulling him even closer, lifting my mouth for him to kiss. And his kiss was just as hot as the fire blazing inside me, his tongue swirling around mine the way the flames were swirling around my pussy.

As the kiss went on, and on, I felt his body responding, felt him pulling me even more tightly against himself, felt the long hardness of his quickly rising cock pressing against my thigh.

I wanted him, no, needed, had to have him. But as we broke for a quick, breathless gasp of air, I heard myself say. 'Not here, in church!'

But he said. 'It is allowed. She wants it.' And then kissed me again.

Whether or not what he said made any sense. Whether or not we were in a supposedly sacred place. I just didn't care. The fire was blazing too strongly. My body needed his too desperately.

My fingers scrabbled with his shorts, perplexed for a moment, then realising there were buttons, not a zip, I literally tore them apart, and fumbled inside for what I had to have. I was thrilled to find he was wearing nothing underneath, and that his cock seemed to leap straight into my hand. It was magnificent, hot and hard, already powerfully erect, and it felt even bigger than I had dared to hope it might be.

He groaned and I felt it jerking higher as my fingers slid up along its length, then he called out my name when I brushed them lightly over the velvety smoothness of its bulging head.

At the same time he dropped his arms and I felt his hands reaching down for the hem of my skirt, bunching it, tugging it upwards, and then turning me around and moving me back until I could feel myself being pressed against the polished timber pew. Although refusing to let go of his cock I used my other hand to pull my skirt around so the slit was in front, then dragged my panties down as far as I could. Giani understood the problem and as I lifted one leg he reached down and helped me get that foot out, but neither of us was in any mood to worry about the other.

I shifted my legs apart and as he bent his knees I guided his cock up between my thighs, shivering with excitement as I felt the head brushing against my swollen clit and pussy-lips, then slipping it into the already sopping wet slit. He paused for the briefest of moments, then as he pushed forward, he whispered my name again. 'Jessie!'




Supernatural Ch. 11



I don't know how to describe those first few moments, when a man is pushing himself inside you, before the excitement rises to a point where description is pointless.

There are a whirling confusion of thoughts and emotions. Your body, but not just your body, the very essence of yourself is being opened up. And there's the thrill of having this hot, hard, throbbing thing pushing deeper and deeper into the squelchy mush your pussy seems to have turned into. But even though it feels it might split you wide open you wouldn't have it any other way. You push yourself forward, trying to get more and more of it into you. You want it to go even deeper still, penetrate right into the very core of you. And as it does that you feel all the nerve ends firing, sending the first jolting thrills shooting up your spine, then triggering all the other even more thrilling responses.

Giani's cock did all that, and more. As I'd thought when I first touched it, it was magnificent, both long and thick, really thick, stretching me wide open and rubbing against the tip of my clit each time he moved. So even though that fuck was fast and furious, much, much too fast, because I'd got so fired up, and my clit was being so intensely stimulated, I reached orgasm too.

He went at it as though he'd been starved of any sort of sex for more years than he could remember, grunting loudly each time he pounded into me, the unyielding pew bruising my buttocks and the backs of my thighs. But I loved it and wouldn't have had it any other way. I looked down and watched it flashing back and forth, the shaft glistening with my pussy-juice, and dug my fingers into his arse, trying to pull him even closer, get that wonderful cock even deeper.

Unlike most times, when you can feel each other building towards orgasm, that time neither of us seemed to get any warning, one moment he was going at me like there was no tomorrow, the next, he was exploding inside me. And that first burst triggered the start of my own climax. I felt myself being lifted high by a series of rolling, boiling breakers. Felt my pussy flexing with each powerful contraction, as though it was trying to get an even tighter grip of his thrusting cock, so it could suck every drop of that hot creamy fluid from him. And at the same time tried unsuccessfully to stifle the screams of sheer joy that I heard echoing around us.

I've no idea how much semen he must have had bottled up, I wasn't counting the number of times he shot into me, but there seemed to be many more than I'd experienced before, and long before he had finished I felt the surplus dribbling back out of me, felt it trickling down the insides of my legs.

But even so, something told me he was, given just a little time, capable of producing still more, and right then I certainly wanted whatever he had left to give. So, when he slowed, stopped, and finally pulled back out of me I had one hand ready, taking the sticky, still firmly swollen length on its palm, then closing my fingers gently around it. With my other hand I took hold of one of his and while he was still gasping for breath I pulled him with me. 'Come back here Giani.' I said, ignoring the fact that we both still had clothes dangling around our ankles as I tugged him around into the space between the back of the pew and the rear wall.

Having kicked off my panties I knelt and got rid off his shorts, then remained on my knees, breathing in the headily musky smell of his sex and our co-mingled juices as I slipped my hands slowly up the insides of his muscular legs. Then, taking the weight of his large hairy balls on one, I lifted his dripping cock to my mouth with the other.

Just licking and sucking him clean was itself exciting, feeling the pulse of his cock strengthening as I did that was even more so. It confirmed the thought I'd had, that he was still capable of giving me more of what I had to have.

So I worked him over, using my lips and tongue on his cock, rolling and occasionally gently squeezing his magnificent balls with one hand, the other either stroking up and down the re-stiffening shaft or reaching around to grip and squeeze the cheeks of his arse.

And with all that going on it didn't take long to re-fire his interest, so to speak. Within a matter of minutes I'd given him an erection almost as strong as his previous one, and could tell from the tone of his low grunting moans that his excitement was re-building. But I wanted him at a higher pitch than that, and felt sure I knew just how to get him there.

With a last, much stronger suck of his cock I pulled my head back, reached up for his hands and tugged him down. 'Lie down Giani, let me do it for you this time.' I said, at the same time getting up and reaching up under the back of my top to undo my bra. Then as he did as I had suggested and lay down, I tugged the top and bra up over my head and then knelt astride him.

'Bella, bellissima!' He whispered as he stared up at my breasts.

I took his hands and lifted them. 'For you Giani.' I said as I pressed one hand against each breast and then shivering with pleasure as I felt his fingers automatically closing around them.

After the fierce, almost brutal fucking he'd just given me I was surprised, and delighted by how gently he caressed me. At first he used just his finger-tips, tracing the outline and shape of each, then slowly circling my still sensitively swollen nipples again and again. He murmured the words 'bella, bellissima' over and over, sometimes cupping their fullness and just staring at them, sometimes stroking them so tenderly I thought I would faint from the sheer joy of his touch.

While he was doing that I reached behind me for his cock, and, as I had expected, found it rearing jerkily, already as hot as it had earlier felt. And the combination of what he was doing to my breasts and the feel his throbbing hardness in my hand was more than enough to set my juices flowing again. I felt my pussy tingling expectantly, felt that familiar draining pull in the pit of my stomach, and knew I was soon going to give him, and myself an orgasm neither of us would ever forget.

But I was determined that in fact that was still some way off, I wanted to both give and receive much more pleasure before either of us reached that point. And so that we could make a start on that hopefully prolonged journey, while making sure my movement didn't stop him doing what he was with my breasts, I lifted my hips, then steadied his cock so I could push myself down on to it.

At first, having got the head firmly wedged between my pussy-lips, I held myself still for a while, enjoying the opportunity that gave me to take a really good look at him, and of course, also savouring the feel of having at least that part of him inside me.

His gasped as my pussy slipped down over the tip, then his face tensed when I did no more than just hold still. Then he gave me a look that told me he understood my intentions, and concentrated on what he was doing with my breasts.

While he continued caressing me his eyes flicked up and down, sometimes looking straight up into mine, but more often simply staring at my breasts. Whenever he did look up and I found myself staring down into those, dark, luminescent pools I experienced exactly the same feelings I had when he had first smiled at me. I knew exactly what emotions the writers of romantic fiction were trying to convey when they described the heroine as 'swooning at the slightest glance' from the hero.

But during the other, longer times, I had a chance to study him, the shape of his brow, the strong jaw line, the breadth of his shoulders and well-muscled chest. I combed my fingers through the rich mat of dark, curly hair covering it, then traced the narrowing line that extended down over his stomach, down to where it joined the even thicker mass immediately above the gorgeous cock that would soon be filling me.

But then I noticed something, just below his rib cage and extending around out of my vision, was a scar, a deep, still somewhat livid line of puckered flesh. I couldn't imagine what had created such a terrible wound and wondered if he would be prepared to tell me what had happened to him.

The sight of the scar only deepened the feelings I already had for him, as well as giving him pleasure I wanted to do more. Although the power behind the fucking he had already given me made it all too obvious there was nothing seriously wrong, I had the strong urge to care for him, to nurture him back to full health.

By then what he had been doing to my breasts had made them tightly full, and turned the nipples into jutting spikes, so, taking that plus the feelings I'd had as my cue, I bent forward so he could reach them with his mouth.

As though he had been waiting for me to do just that, he closed his lips eagerly around one and began licking, then gently sucking the stiffened nipple, and sending a new set of thrills shooting up my spine.

I continued to hold myself as still as I could as he suckled one, then the other, then returned to the first again, enjoying both the immediate thrills he gave me and also looking forward to the even stronger thrills that were yet to come.

But then the prospect of the reality of those outweighed the anticipation, and I finally pushed down, doing it slowly, and hearing the long, blissful moan I made as I took more and more of that truly massive cock inside me.

As his body reacted to my slow downward push his mouth clamped tight on my breast, sucking harder, and sending a separate wave of thrills through me. Thrills that added their force to those that were spiralling up from my cunt as I finally took all of him, his cock spearing me, reaching deep into the very heart of me as I ground myself down against his body.

Again I held myself still for a while, savouring the sensations that seemed to be coursing through every single part of my body. My skin seemed to have become electrified, responding to the slightest touch. I could feel my hair triggering little sparks each time it swayed back and forth. Feel his doing the same as my bottom brushed against those on his legs. Feel the grain of the wood beneath my knees. But overwhelming those tiny sensations were those I was getting from having his mouth sucking on my breasts and his strongly throbbing cock buried inside me.

So then I began to ride him, holding him still while I pushed up and down, and keeping to a slow, steady rhythm. I admit that was mainly because the feelings I got from having his cock driving up into me were just so wonderful, and that to make the most of those I was lifting myself as high as I dared to without taking the risk of him slipping out of me.

But it wasn't just sheer selfishness, I could tell from his reactions that he was enjoying what I was doing just as much as I was. Although he continued sucking on one or other breast he gave muffled grunts or groans each time I pushed down, and it wasn't long before I could feel his hips trying to thrust his cock even deeper inside me.

I kept to that slow pace for as long as I could and there were a few other moves I would have liked to have had time to try with Giani, but of course nature eventually took over. As what I was already doing had sent my level of excitement higher my body reacted by gradually moving faster and it wasn't long before I was fucking him almost as furiously as he had previously pounded me.

But that time he didn't come. Even though I felt my cunt gripping him tight as my orgasm literally ripped through me and he thrust upwards as fast and as hard as I was thrusting down on to him, nothing happened. As the blurring haze of my climax began to wane I felt a rush of devastated disappointment that I hadn't been able to give him another. But then that feeling quickly changed to one of excited delight when he literally heaved me up off himself, squirmed out from under me and flipped me over on to my hands and knees.

And before either I or my pussy had time to even start winding down, his cock was back inside me.

In fact my orgasm re-started the moment I felt the head grazing my clit as it pushed forward between my pussy-lips. The feelings grew stronger as he drove it deeper, then even more powerful ones came welling up from somewhere down inside me as he began thrusting in and out.

Being fucked that way has always stirred up a weird mix of feelings for me. There's a sense of vulnerability, that in that position I am helpless, don't have any control over what's happening to me. But that's also strangely exciting, as though the very position I'm in frees me of any responsibility, no, of any lingering sense of guilt for what's happening. And right then, in that place, in the church, I guess that deep down, at least subconsciously, I really needed to be freed of that.

So I knelt there, bent low, my forehead resting on the floor and my arse lifted high, literally offering my cunt up to whatever he wanted to do with it.

And he certainly made the most of it, unlike his first time, controlling, pacing himself, and quite obviously enjoying every single moment.

At first, just as I had, he began with long, slow but deeply penetrating drives, the bulging head opening me up, the rock-hard shaft scraping against my still rigidly swollen clit. And after just a few of those it felt as though the lower half of my body had been turned to no more than a mass of trembling, quivering jelly. But a jelly that continued sending shock-waves of delighted excitement back up through the rest of me as my continuing orgasm rolled on and on.

His control was truly amazing that time, although once he'd driven inside me my body seemed to cry out for a repeat of that first, furiously fast fuck, as he continued that slow but inexorable pace I realised just what deeper and even stronger responses it was capable of. And as each time he pushed forward he gave a low, sighing moan, knowing he was getting just as much pleasure as he was giving me seemed to add that much more to my own.

Although I knew it shouldn't have been physically possible it really did feel that his cock had continued to grow even bigger the longer he fucked me, its increasing length getting even deeper inside, and its much more massive girth stretching my body even more wide open. And that, coupled with the helpless vulnerability of that position, kept my senses at fever pitch.

But of course eventually, and after what had seemed an eternity of slow, absolutely blissful fucking, I felt the tell-tale signs that he was finally building towards his own climax. I felt his hands gripping my hips even more tightly than they had been, heard his previously soft moans turning to more breathy grunts, and felt the steadily throbbing pulse in his cock strengthening.

But then he did something I had never experienced before. Instead of speeding up, thrusting faster and harder, as I expected him to, he pulled his cock right back, leaving just the head wedged between my pussy-lips. Then he began moving it back and forth, really, really slowly.

After everything we had already done not only my clit but also my pussy-lips were super-sensitised, and the feelings I was getting from them were so strong that my brain must have sort of short-circuited. I got to think I could see what he was doing. Think I could actually visualise his cock-head as it pushed slowly back and forth. Both feel and also imagine I was actually seeing the massive, purple shape of it, its glistening, satiny skin stretched so tight it looked as though it might split open at any moment. Feel and somehow see my pussy-lips grazing the rim, then slipping down into the deep groove below it, automatically tightening as they tried to get a firmer grip of it.

But as well as all that, the physical effect of what he was doing was simply incredible and having it rubbing directly against my clit sent my own reactions soaring like rocketing fire-works. Yet even though the shock-like waves of excitement I was getting soon completely overwhelmed everything else, those images remained as he gruntingly worked himself slowly towards his own release.

Then I even imagined I could see it at the moment his orgasm started, see the eye at its tip gaping wide as that first explosive jet spewed out and splattered against the walls of my cunt.

But then, just as it appeared from nowhere, the image suddenly vanished. Then as his cock pumped that first searing gout and I felt his body heaving, lunging, finally burying it deep inside me, the thrills ripping up through my body must have grown just too intense - and as what seemed like an entire truck-load of fireworks exploded inside my head, I simply fainted away.

When I came to I was back where I had started, standing, feeling both dazed and bewildered, in front of that roadside shrine.

As my head cleared and my eyes regained their focus I found myself looking into the shrine, at the shelf and the badly wilted posy of flowers resting on it, at the framed picture above it. But I suddenly realised that unlike the other shrines I had seen, which had fairly rough paintings of local saints in them, I was looking at a photograph. It was obviously very old, faded and fly-specked, but when I looked closer I saw it was of a young woman, a young woman who, like the girl in the stained glass window, looked remarkably like me.

I felt my head spinning again, but then the sound of a car horn tooting brought me back to reality. I turned around and saw a car, a middle aged woman was driving it, she had stopped and was leaning out of the window and asking if I needed a lift.

I nodded, said thank you and grabbed my pack, and as I got in beside her I saw there was another person in the car, in the back seat, a very old lady, in very dark glasses.

Once we had introduced ourselves and established where they could take me, although still dazed and totally confused, I asked the lady if she knew anything about the little shrine where they had picked me up.

'Mama will, she knows all the old stories from hereabouts. In fact since she went blind her memory seems to have sharpened and she remembers so many stories that some prominent people will be relieved when she is gone.' She added with a mischievous smile. 

She described the part of the road where they had picked me up to her mother and asked if she knew anything about that particular shrine. The old lady knew plenty, and although it took most of the rest of the journey for her to tell us the full detail, the gist of it was more than enough for me.

There were two parts to the story, one centred around the girl in the photograph, the other, which happened hundreds of years previously, involved a young woman in a small remote village up in the hills.

In both cases it was the girls' unusual beauty that was at the root of the problems, and in both it was the desire and jealousy that aroused in some men which ultimately caused their deaths.

In the older story the girl was married to a local peasant farmer, they were poor but happy, and already had two children. Like her mother and grandmother before her the girl was skilled in the use of herbs and was called on by the villagers to cure or ease many afflictions and diseases. Her reputation spread and when the son of a local lord was wounded whilst out hunting nearby she was taken to him. In the time it took her to prepare and apply her herbal remedy he became smitten by her, and as was common in those times, took her and raped her.

Her husband, who had accompanied her, heard her cries and guessing what was happening finally managed to fight off the lord's men who were trying to hold him, and went charging into the hut where they were. But being too late to save his wife's honour he ignored the inevitable outcome, and just slew the lord's son.

But of course when he heard the news of his son's death the lord flew into a rage and set out to restore his family's honour. He had the husband promptly killed and the woman tried, for witchcraft, getting witnesses to say she had bewitched his son with her potions, then seduced him for his seed.




Supernatural Ch. 11



Justice being what it was in those days she was found guilty and burned. But the villagers honoured her, took care of her children, and down through the years they continued to tell stories of her skill and her kindness. Over time, the potions that had been passed down with the stories cured many people of many strange things, and gradually they came to believe that although dead, she was continuing to heal the sick, and they began to refer to her as a saint.

The belief became so strong that many, many years later, when the village decided to build a small addition to their church, they had a window created to honour her and what she continued to do for them.

The children, a boy and a girl grew, married, and had children and then many grandchildren of their own. Although over time some moved away, the men in search of greater fortune, the girls marrying men who wished to do the same, there were always some who remained, and people saw that every few generations a girl would appear that had the same unusual beauty as her long dead forebear.

And the girl in the shrine was one of those. And sadly, her story, although set in more modern times, paralleled that of her ancestor.

It was just before the start of the second world war, the girl was betrothed to a young man and they were to be married the following Spring. Then the war broke out and although until then the young man had tried to ignore the political turmoil that had gripped the rest of the country, he could no longer do so. He had always hated the fascists and so found the idea of fighting alongside them abhorrent, as he saw it he had no choice but to flee, to go higher into the hills, where groups of like minded young men were going into hiding.

Although life in the villages was hard they somehow managed to provide a little extra food for the partisans, as the groups began to call themselves, and the young man was sometimes able to come down to spend an hour or two with his beloved.

The war raged on, the young man was wounded several times, once so badly it was thought he would die. In fact his friends carried him back to his village one night, so he could die there. But the girl cared for him, and although there were no medicines for her to use she treated him the old way, with herbs and with love.

Miraculously he survived, and a few weeks later returned to his men, only to be captured and shipped off to some prison camp.

But then, just when it seemed there could be no end to the war, peace was declared. But peace was a long time coming to Italy, there were too many old scores to be settled, partisans rooting out fascists, communists competing with the partisans for political power, and the killings just went on and on.

It was some time during those first few months that the girl was spotted by one of the new, self-declared political bosses. Naturally she would have nothing to do with him, and the more she resisted the more determined he became to have her, until one night he did, by force. Just like her long dead ancestor, she was raped, brutally raped.

In her case the dishonour was just too great to bear, and she hung herself.

During that time the young man had been released from prison camp and started to make his way south, heading home, as he thought, to re-start his life. Somehow he had managed to get some money together, enough to buy an old wreck of a truck, which he was going to use to start a business to support his new wife, and their children. His old comrades helped him re-build and re-paint it and when it was ready he set-off on the last leg of his journey.

After everything that had happened he felt truly happy for the first time in many years, so when he got back to the village and heard what had just recently happened he went mad, quite literally mad. He tracked and killed the man who had raped and, as he saw it, murdered his woman, then, with nothing to live for, simply drove his truck down from the hills, and off the road.

They were both buried in the graveyard of the church up in the hills, but the villagers put up that shrine at the spot where the young man drove his truck off. And the elderly woman said that the locals say that every year, around the time of the girl's death, he returns in it, driving aimlessly, as though he is still looking for her.

I listened in stunned silence as the old lady recounted the stories, stunned with disbelief, but at the same time unable to ignore the sore wetness between my legs. When she was finished I asked if she remembered the names of those involved.

The locals call the earlier girl Saint Theresia, though I don't think she is officially recognised as such. The girl in the picture at the shrine was Julietta, I think. The young man? His name eludes me for the moment.'

'Might it have been Giani?' I asked nervously.

'Giani? No.' She replied, then after a momentary pause, added. 'Giani, yes of course, Giuliano, known as Giani! You are quite right. How did you know?'

'Oh I couldn't have known, the name just sort of, well, popped into my head.' I answered, squeezing my legs tightly together as I felt the still oozing remains of his semen continuing to dribble out of me.



Supernatural Ch. 12



Chapter 12: EARTH FORCE

The young couple were holidaying with a group of friends but after several days of sun, surf and sand, had decided to spend this particular day alone, driving up to the hopefully cooler, hilly region a few miles inland from where they were staying.

Martin and Brenda had known each other for nearly two years and been living together for much of that time. Until recent weeks everything had been wonderful but then niggling problems had begun to arise and as they had been getting progressively worse they both secretly hoped that the holiday would provide them time to identify and resolve the cause, a chance to revitalise their relationship.

There had been many things that had first attracted them to each other, they had similar interests and attitudes, she loved his sensitivity and quirky, off-beat sense of humour, and Brenda's common sense and loyalty were exactly what Martin needed from a partner. But underlying and supporting all the other reasons why they had initially been so happy together was their mutually strong, physical attraction and excellent sex-life.

Although neither had been a virgin when they met, when they ended up in bed for the first time each at first thought the amazing things they felt were the result of not having had it for some time. But as those feelings continued, and in fact got even better over the following weeks, they both revelled in having found someone that could both arouse and then satisfy them so fantastically.

By comparison with most other men she had known Brenda found Martin's much more tender and caring love-making both exciting and deeply satisfying. And Martin had been thrilled to find a woman who not only obviously enjoyed sex, but was also both willing and eager to try something new, and as well as that, could be an enthusiastic initiator.

So when both Martin's interest and actual performance began to wane Brenda was understandably concerned about what might have caused the dramatic change in his behaviour. At first she had put it down to pressure of his work, and understanding that it was unreasonable of her to expect him to be able to perform like a super-stud when he came home tired, she tried to help him. Gave him time to relax before their evening meal, dressed more seductively, and tried a variety of things that she hoped would re-fire his flagging performance. But when, in spite of everything she tried, little or nothing happened, she not only didn't know what else to do, but at first became frustrated, then in turn started losing interest herself.

And what made things even worse for her was the nagging thought, which she hated to even consider really, that Martin might be seeing another woman. That seemed so totally out of character for the man she thought she knew, but there were times when it seemed the only explanation she could think of to account for Martin's behaviour.

For his part Martin was just as concerned. There certainly wasn't anyone else in his life. It was true that there was no shortage of attractive women where he worked, and like any other normal male he had momentary thoughts of what another woman's body and reactions to his love-making would be like. But he loved Brenda and that simple fact enabled him to resist the occasional temptations that came with a pair of flirting eyes or all too prominent breasts.

But he was only too aware of his decreasing level of desire, and although he'd tried, he had been unable to pin-point the cause. He knew there was something at work in his subconscious but just couldn't get a firm handle on what it was. He could tell from the efforts Brenda had made and from the look in her eyes when he failed to respond - sometimes hurt, sometimes bewilderment, sometimes anger, always tinged with her increasing frustration - that the pressure on their relationship was increasing and that if something didn't change there was a very real risk of it breaking-down.

So for a variety of reasons, as the frequency and intensity of their love-making grew steadily less and less each of them in their separate ways found it more and more difficult to think about anything else.

But that additional pressure to perform seemed to just make it all the more difficult for either of them to actually do so, and up to that point even the holiday had made very little difference. In spite of the fact that Brenda was looking even more gorgeous than usual, was dressing, and doing everything she knew to arouse him, although they had certainly made love several times, the intensity was still missing, and both of them were only too aware of that.

So although they had the day to themselves, each actually found that not having their friends there as a buffer made them feel even less comfortable, and not surprisingly, at first they drove without saying much to each other, the radio filling the otherwise awkward silence.

But even in that atmosphere whenever Martin glanced sideways he still found himself appreciating both the way Brenda's breasts filled the T-shirt, and the length of smoothly tanned thigh left exposed by her crisp new shorts. He was aware of his body's faint response to her, but was even more conscious of the fact that if they had been in similar circumstances just a few months earlier he wouldn't have been able to stop himself pulling the car off the road and making love to her there and then.

Brenda had similar thoughts, the sight of his hands on the wheel, strong but sensitive hands with long, well-shaped fingers, triggered thoughts of the things they were able to her. His caresses did things to her body that no other man had done, things she ached to experience again. And even as she let her mind drift back to recall some of the incredible times they'd had together, she felt her involuntary response, felt her nipples tingling, her pussy starting to get moist. As those feelings strengthened she silently prayed that between them they could find some way of recapturing the spark that had made their being together so special, so wonderfully satisfying.

Whether because each in their own way desperately wanted to overcome the barrier that seemed to have grown between them, or merely as a result of the changing country-side around them, their mood did begin to lighten. They began chatting more freely and as the road climbed up through the foot-hills and the scent of the surrounding woodland replaced the sultry humidity of the coast their mood seemed to improve even more. So when Brenda suddenly spotted a sign indicating a secondary tourist route turn-off, she had no hesitation in saying.

'Let's get off the main road Martin. I'd love to take a walk amongst the trees.'

'O.K. darling, sounds like a good idea.' Martin replied cheerfully. 'Keep your eyes open for any side tracks we could try.'

Once off the main road Brenda began to get the strange feeling she was actually re-visiting somewhere she had been before, although she knew she had never been within a hundred kilometres of the area. And that feeling grew stronger the deeper they went into the forest and she confidently told Martin which way to go, taking them off on to a series of obviously less travelled tracks which not only took them further away from civilisation, but also took them progressively higher.

Martin had followed her directions without comment, but not without an increasing sense of concern as the tracks got progressively bumpier and steeper, and as he needed all his concentration to keep the car and themselves from being shaken to pieces it was Brenda who first spotted the secluded glade off to one side.

'There darling! Over there on the right, behind those rocks. It's just the place.' She exclaimed excitedly.

Being grateful they were going no further Martin manoeuvred the car through the scrub beside the track and found a relatively level strip immediately behind the rocks which would, in the unlikely event, safely shield the car from the sight of anyone else who happened to be travelling that way. Then, after refreshing themselves with a quick snack and a cool drink they set off for their walk, keeping to single file and Brenda leading the way up through the surrounding jumble of scrub, trees and rocky outcrops.

After climbing steadily for some time the growth between the trees began to thin out, making their progress easier and as they continued upwards Brenda noticed that in spite of them getting even higher, there was a strange, almost oppressive warmth in the air around them. At the same time she also realised that apart from the noise they were making themselves there was an odd, almost expectant silence. Even the sounds that she normally associated with the bush, the background hum and buzz of insects, and the occasional alarm call from a bird, were missing.

Even though she'd had no specific goal in mind when they started out, and there were neither paths nor even signs that anyone had been that way before, she confidently headed upwards. Drawn on by some vague certainty that ahead and above there was something worth reaching. Yet she was still also aware that if they had been in this place a few months before, before Martin's apparent diminishing interest in sex, it wouldn't be the surrounding bush he would be looking at, but the sway of her hips and the roll of her buttocks.

'I'd say this is about as far as we'll be able to go darling.' She suddenly heard him say, and looking up through the quickly thinning trees ahead of them she saw what had triggered his remark. No more than fifty or so metres ahead of them was what looked like a sheer wall of rock. And as they drew nearer they saw that it both reared high above them and effectively barred their way by stretching, apparently unbroken in either direction for as far as they could see. But in spite of the fact that it appeared impassable, Brenda continued on, whatever it was that had brought them this far seemed to continue to draw her towards it.

In actual fact it was Martin who found the opening, though at first he'd thought it was merely a shallow recess, but on closer inspection he found a cave, angling in from behind a protruding slab of rock, and when the match he struck flickered in a faint breeze he knew it must lead somewhere.

'Let's see where this goes.' He called back to her. 'It's quite dry but stay close to me.'

Bending low they went in and after moving forward only a short way found the cave suddenly heightened enough for them to stand upright, and as they did so they felt an even stronger movement of the air. A narrow opening led them forwards, twisting and turning capriciously, but after several more matches and a few minutes of stumbling progress they saw daylight reflecting off the rock walls ahead of them. They moved towards it and suddenly found the cave suddenly becoming wider, and ahead of them, streaming in through a massive rock arch, was the sunlight. And another couple of dozen paces brought them into something that simply took their breath away. The space was so large they could only compare it with the nave of an open ended cathedral nave, and enhancing that first impression were the many massive pillars of rock that divided the area beneath the curving rock walls into a series of galleries.

Brenda found the first painting, on the back of one of the rock pillars. Stick-like figures, in pairs. Then they found some more, then more and more of them. Nearly every one had just the two figures, only a very few contained more than that, and those were much smaller.

Martin spotted the strangest thing about the paintings, although it was clear from the representation of sexual indicators, a penis on one, breasts and vulva on the other, that each pair contained one of each, some were different to others. 'Look at the differences Brenda, a few have much larger penises than others.'

'Well that's still true.' She replied with a giggle.

'OK, but wherever there's one of those the accompanying figures has very small breasts, and unlike the other figures, there's no vulva!'

Brenda followed his finger as he pointed at painting after painting and saw exactly what he meant. Neither of them could of course explain those differences, nor had any idea what the pairs of figures represented. Why they had been painted where they were was just as much of a mystery, but the one idea they did have was that the relatively few, much smaller figures might represent children. 

All the paintings were on the pillars and walls closest to the way they had come in, but then there were no more, the pillars closest to the archway were all bare, as though whoever had made the work didn't want to risk it being exposed to the daylight.

But even so, the sense of purpose that Brenda had felt on the way up through the bush was still strong, she somehow knew there would be more paintings, and felt herself being drawn to explore even more thoroughly.

Then far down at one end of the area, where the roof of the cave curved dramatically down to meet the floor, she thought she spotted one. 'Bring the matches over here Martin, I think I've found some more!' She called out excitedly.

'I was right!' She said when he struck the first match. 'And wow, these are definitely male and female! But there are no little ones, the ones we thought were the children.'

There was no doubting the sex of the figures in that painting, in every case the females' sexual parts, their breasts, buttocks, and even their vulvas, had been almost grotesquely exaggerated. Although the inclusion of penises made the male figures obvious, and though some of those figures had also been given a larger set of genitals, in most they had been far less well endowed than the females' were.

'I wonder why the females are painted the way they are, but not the males? Martin said as he continued staring at the powerfully erotic rock art.

'I've no idea, but let's continue looking around, I'm sure there'll be more of them.'

She was right, they each found several more similar paintings, all of them treating the difference between the sexes in the same way. But it was Martin who found the final painting, the one that they both felt sure demonstrated that the sexual distortion hadn't been without purpose.

What they saw was like a two dimensional Kama Sutra, a positive orgy. Couples everywhere, all obviously fucking enthusiastically, in every position imaginable.

'Wow! The carvings on those Indian temples have got nothing on these. Look at what these two are up to!' Martin exclaimed, pointing to a particularly athletic couple in an upper corner.

'They're different.' Brenda said more thoughtfully. 'Look at them carefully and remember how differently they were painted in the others. In this one they are all painted the same way, I mean they all have equally exaggerated sex organs.' Then, as her thoughts suddenly took shape. 'It's a sequence!' Something has happened to them, something has changed them.' Adding excitedly as she grabbed his hand and pointed to where the sunlight streamed in through the archway. 'Let's go and see what's out there.'

They gasped, then stood silently as they found themselves staring around a large, obviously natural amphitheatre. The surrounding rocks formed an almost vertical wall that was topped with occasional bushes and trees, and other than the way they had come in, it appeared to be broken only at the far end, where a small gap provided a clear view across a wide valley to the far horizon.

But the floor of the area, in sharp contrast to the surrounding country, was covered with a thick growth of grass, grass that was studded here and there with a variety of multi-coloured wild flowers.

Brenda slipped off her shoes and moved almost hesitantly forward, feeling the grass giving beneath her weight, small blades finding the spaces between her toes as she slowly walked forwards towards the centre.

Martin hurried past her, saying, as he headed for the gap at the far end. 'I'll see what's out there.'

She watched him go, feeling an odd, inexplicable sense of anticipation, and at the same time suddenly noticing that his shirt had become quite damp with sweat. Then, as she found herself staring at the way it clung to his back, she felt the sense of anticipation growing stronger, had the feeling that she in turn was being watched, and by the time Martin had reached the far wall of rock, felt herself trembling

Suddenly the grass beneath her feet gave way to rock, a smooth, almost polished slab, its surface set flush into the surrounding growth. As she moved slowly across it she was surprised to find that in spite of the sun beating down on it the rock felt cool. She took a few more steps, then stopped when she reached the centre, finally turning slowly to look all around. There was nothing to see but the flower studded grass, then the tree topped wall of rock, but as the strange sensations continued to grow even stronger, she got the distinct sense of somehow being at the focus of something.

She also noticed that although she couldn't see any, the background buzz of insects that she had missed during their climb up through the bush was then quite strong, and in fact seemed to be getting louder. Then, that the soles of her feet had begun to tingle. And when she looked down, looked at the rock beneath them, she saw that what she had previously thought was a smooth surface was in fact covered with a faint pattern. There were lines etched into it, lines that curved and crossed in a meaningless jumble, but which all seemed to meet, in a wriggling mass, just where she was standing.

She looked up to see where Martin was, and saw him just starting to scramble up the lowest part of the rocky wall, and although he was then quite far away, she found she could still somehow sense the power in his body as he worked his way higher.

As she watched him climb, saw how his arms pulled and his legs pushed him strongly upwards, she sensed the muscular strength and power of his body. She continued watching him, that sense of his physical, masculinity growing steadily stronger, and triggering what seemed totally inappropriate thoughts and feelings. A minute or two later she realised her clothes had started to feel uncomfortably tight, felt they were somehow binding her. And, then, as though in some drug induced haze, and without a moment's hesitation, she began stripping them off, roughly bundling and then tossing them down on to the grass.

As each item came off she felt the strength of the sun's life-giving heat pouring down on her, energising her body, and as though something had been waiting for that additional surge of energy, she heard the buzzing sound getting even louder, felt the tingling sensation in her feet spreading upwards, through her legs, then deep into the very core of her being.

She felt totally alive, felt her skin, and flesh, her blood, even her bones and the deeper organs, all pulsing with life.

Martin's loud 'coo-eee' startled her, and she looked up to see him standing, waving to her from the top of the gap in the encircling rocks. Again, but that time far more strongly, she found that even from that distance she was keenly aware of his body, his maleness, of the forces, the power that lay deep within it. And with that awareness she felt the tingling pulsations within her own growing stronger, felt her body responding to it.

Her breasts seemed to have suddenly become very tight, heavily full, her nipples stiff and jutting tautly. The sheets of muscle across her belly had become tensed, and she could feel her pussy getting wet.

She found herself imagining him naked, his body responding as powerfully as hers, his balls swelling, his penis engorging, rising, its head becoming dark and glossy.

She touched herself, one hand closing around her breast, her fingers squeezing the sensitive nipple, the other slipping up between her thighs, teasing the already swollen ridge of flesh, sliding up between the puffy lips, probing deeply.




Supernatural Ch. 12



She saw him staring down at her, and willed him to do what she wanted, needed him to do, to come down again, join her, touch her, fuck her.

And, as though he was obeying that silent command, he began to scramble down, and although his progress seemed unbearably slow her spirits surged as she watched. The image she'd formed in her mind of his arousal not only remained clear, but grew even sharper, more focussed, until all that was important was his cock, rampant, throbbing with the same life forces that continued welling up through herself.

When he reached the ground he paused, and even from that distance she felt his eyes staring at her, watching her as she continued to stimulate herself, and although she could sense his confusion, he finally began to walk quickly towards her. As he drew nearer he slowed, and Brenda instinctively knew he was succumbing to the same feelings she was. She saw his eyes flicking up and down, staring at the stiffly rounded globes of her breasts, then lower, down over her tensed, sweat sheened body, watching the fluttering, probing patterns her fingers were making.

He reached the far edge of the rock slab, took a couple of steps forward, then stopped. Their eyes locked momentarily, then hers dropped to his crotch, saw the outline of his cock, a bulge that seemed to her to be steadily growing even more pronounced.

Although its continuing growth increased her own excitement something drew her eyes lower, and she looked down at the rock they were standing on. The etched lines seemed to have become even sharper, and the pattern she had thought had a single focus was no longer there, now there were two. Between them was the mass of twisting, curling lines, and he stood at the centre of the other.

He said nothing but she looked up again as he too began to strip. His shirt, then shoes, shorts, and finally his underpants, throwing them all behind himself, then standing proudly naked. The image she'd formed of him faded away as she focussed on the reality, his cock was still rising, getting bigger than she'd ever seen it before, the head becoming still darker, glossier, and she felt her core pulsing, opening, preparing her body for his.

They stood staring silently at each other, each aware of their own escalating need, a need that seemed to be coursing through their veins, reaching deep into every part of their bodies. And, making those feelings even stronger was the fact that they each somehow knew that the other was feeling exactly the same way. But when their eyes met Brenda noticed there was a hint of uncertainty in Martin's, then he looked away, turning, looking quickly all around, as though searching for some reason to suppress what he was feeling.

She reached out for him, slipping her hand beneath the hot, quivering length. 'I want you, here and right now.' She said in a low, throaty voice, and as he turned back to face her again, she sat at his feet, then lay back on the smooth slab, bending and spreading her legs wide apart.

Her words and wanton display were just additional fuel for the fire already burning fiercely inside him, and as that snuffed out any remaining doubt in his mind he fell to his knees. He briefly looked down at her face, her eyes were wide open but seemed to be staring right through him, and on her lips there was a tense smile of expectation. Then he looked lower, saw her nipples spiking from her tautly upthrusting breasts, saw how tense the rest of her body had become, then looked lower still, at the dense triangle of pubic hair, and below it, the glistening, dark pink folds. The inner fire grew stronger, even hotter, and he edged forward, steadying and guiding his already jerkily throbbing cock with one hand, then pushing it forward between her wetly gaping pussy-lips.

He gave a single, low pitched, rumbling cry, then, using a series of powerful thrusts, forced his way deep into the heart of her.

She gasped with both surprise and excitement as she felt it driving into her, the sheer size of it stretching her body to its very limits. For one brief moment she wondered if the size would actually split her open, but the moment passed and she not only took it, all of it, but knew she needed more, much, much more of it.

He was experiencing very similar feelings, it felt as though his cock had not only grown more massive than he would have previously thought possible, but had also become a hundred times more sensitive. It was as though as it had grown it had stretched the very nerve endings, making every one of them fire off at the slightest touch. And as her pussy was so tight, its folds clinging to the full length of it, each move sent shock-like thrills surging up his spine.

And the strength of those physical thrills, coupled with the unbelievably powerful forces inside him, made him totally incapable of giving her his usually tenderly considerate love-making. He was vaguely conscious of her cries of astonished consternation as he drove faster and still deeper, but had to ignore them.

He also had to ignore her amazed delight when an orgasm all too quickly welled up through her body, conscious only that her convulsions were making her cunt grip his powering cock even more tightly.

The first was a frenzied, and all too short coupling. A couple of dozen or so thrusts later he felt the start of his own unstoppable surge, then grunted as his semen scorched up through his cock and blasted deep into her.

But even as the last jolt ripped through him he knew he wasn't done, even after that explosive orgasm his cock was still demanding more, and the fire burning inside hadn't diminished at all.

The rolling climax she was still experiencing just wouldn't stop, what had begun almost as soon as he had thrust down into her, and been prematurely induced by his unusually primitive, almost brutal actions, continued. There had been a second series of peaks when she felt the heat of his semen pumping deep into her core, each jolting burst triggering a separate surge of pleasure, and each one of those a little stronger than the previous. But even so, although just having his still rigid cock buried up to the hilt inside her were producing waves of pleasure, they were not enough, she needed something more, something more powerfully satisfying than that.

So, feeling how hard his cock had remained and praying that he still had more to give her, she pushed herself backwards, feeling some of the hot mix of their fluids seeping out and trickling down her inner thigh as she unplugged herself. Then, turning over and getting up her hands and knees, as she arched her bottom high, she looked back over her shoulder at him.

'Do it to me again - this way, now!'

Even if the quick fuck had fully quenched it, the raw passion in her voice and the lascivious way she was offering herself to him would have been enough to rekindle the fire inside him. As it was, it instantly flared up into an all consuming blaze. Without a moment's hesitation he moved up behind her, guided his still throbbing cock into her sopping pussy, shuddering as the super-sensitive head slipped between the outer lips, then groaning as he thrust forward.

She was so wet he was able to bury it deep inside her with a single lunge, then, because he wanted a moment to savour the thrills coursing through his body, he somehow managed to resist the urge to immediately start thrusting in and out. But she gave him only that briefest of moments before letting him know what she wanted, bending her upper body lower, and then pushing herself back and forth on his impaling cock.

He understood her needs, and as he felt her pussy tightening around his cock he picked up her rhythm and, taking a firm grip of her hips, began thrusting as forcefully as before.

It didn't seem humanly possible but his cock actually seemed to increase in size and hardness the longer he continued, and in spite of the intensity of the thrills being generated by her slick tightness, he began to feel as though he could go on fucking her forever.

It was as though he was drawing on some external power, as though he had tapped some elemental force, a force that was creating and then sustaining his sexual energy. And at the same time, in some strange way he felt they had ceased to exist as separate people, it was as though that power had melded his cock and her cunt, and through those, the two of them, into one single being.

But that time, after what seemed an timeless period of blissful fucking, he became aware of her reactions, aware that they were growing stronger. She had begun to moan, softly at first, then with a deeper, more urgent sound. He realised that she was pushing herself back at him more forcefully, that her pussy was gripping his cock even more tightly. Her actions intensified his own, and using both hands to spread her arse cheeks wider, he increased both the speed and depth of his thrusting.

He heard the slapping sound of his sweating body smacking hard up against her arse-cheeks, felt the bruising pleasure as his balls whacked against the backs of her thighs, and then he felt her entire body starting to flex and shudder, and a few seconds later she let out an incredible rising wail of agonised ecstasy as her entire body was convulsed by the sheer force of her climax.

Whereas her earlier one had been like being swept along in breaking surf, that one was as though a single, gigantic tidal wave had totally engulfed her. And as the scorching heat of his massive, rock-hard cock continued pounding into her, she felt she was being carried higher and higher by it. Yet even as she surrendered herself to the mind numbing intensity of what was happening to her, she could still hear her keening wail reverberating around them, echoing back from the surrounding walls of rock.

When at last the force of it had passed she slumped weakly, helplessly, held up only by the strength of his hold of her. At that moment she felt utterly drained, yet even as the impact of her climactic orgasm lessened, she felt his cock still pistoning in and out, and realised that he was far from being finished with her.

As for him, he was lost in another timeless reverie, the sensations he was experiencing were like no other he'd ever experienced. He felt super-human, felt his cock had been imbued with some magical, life-giving force. A force that had spread through his entire body, giving him the power and the strength to continue until he was ready to again flood her cunt with his seed.

He looked down to watch it, saw how brightly the thick slime coating the shaft glistened in the sunlight, saw how darkly swollen the knotted veins along its length had become, saw the outer lips of her clinging pussy being dragged with it each time he pulled back. And as he watched he felt both the ecstatic thrills that ripped up through his body and the trails of sweat running down over it, some dripping from his face down on to the taut curves of her upthrusting buttocks.

But then, long before he was ready for it he felt the unmistakable signals, felt a dragging tightness in the pit of his stomach, felt his swollen balls rising, felt himself being driven to thrust faster and faster. And then nothing mattered but the sheer relief of releasing the almost unbearable pressure that had suddenly built inside him.

She too knew he was about to come again, even without the sudden increase in speed and power of his actions she would have known that because his cock suddenly seemed to have become even bigger, even harder and the head more grossly swollen than it had already been. But, frustratingly unfair though it seemed, although she somehow knew she needed just one more climax herself, she also knew that in spite of what he was about to give her, her body was not quite ready for it.

She braced herself for what was to come, then heard his deep, guttural cry, and as she felt the first of a series of explosive gouts she found herself imagining what his deeply embedded cock must look as it spouted its rich, creamy jets of life-giving semen.

He grunted as his cock spat load after load into her, his eyes clamped tightly shut as his entire body was wracked by uncontrollably powerful muscular spasms. But in spite of the totally draining power of it, when even it was finally over he somehow knew that whatever it was that had gripped him, had still not yet completely finished with him.

So in one way, although he knew from experience that after two such massive orgasms his body was totally incapable of anything more, when she did what she then did, he wasn't completely surprised.

When she was sure he'd finished she moved quickly, pulling herself forward off his dripping cock, then without saying a single word, pushing him down on to his back and straddling him. As she knew it would be, his cock was still fully erect, the shaft blood-red, the head an angrily dark purple, the entire length slick with a mixture of her own juices and his still oozing semen.

She felt her tongue licking her lips, momentarily distracted by the thought of taking it in her mouth, tasting it, feeling it bruising the back of her throat as she jammed her head down on to it. But that pleasure would have to wait for another time, she had more urgent needs to satisfy. She looked up along his sweat coated, and still heaving body, seeing the sharply defined muscles, sensing their power, then finally looking up at his face. He was gasping for breath, his skin streaked with sweat, and in his eyes she saw a despairing, almost pleading look.

She looked down again, at his still rearing cock, then, grasping it firmly as she lifted herself, and pausing for a second when she felt it brushing against her still super-sensitive clitoris, she held it steady and pushed herself down on to it.

Something inside her told her that this time, this third time had to be timed just right. She felt sure he was capable of giving her another, but also guessed that he would need just a little more encouragement, a little more help and a little more time to do so. So she gave him all of those, and at first rode him quite slowly. Then when she was absolutely sure that his cock had lost none of its rigid potency, she began to change her action. Sometimes lifting herself higher, tightening her pussy and moving up and down over just the still swollen head. Sometimes rotating her pelvis so he felt his cock being rubbed against the walls of her cunt. Sometimes pushing right down to the base, letting him feel the entire length being bathed in the warm, slick moistness of her cunt.

And in time she saw her patience being rewarded, saw and felt the first faint tremors of slowly increasing excitement running up through his body, every now and then heard his low moaning gasps of pleasure.

Those signs were all she needed to let go the restraints she had put upon herself, to allow herself to unblock the channels and fully mate with this man.

And, just as importantly, to once again enjoy the mind-bending thrill of loving and being loved by her Martin.

The significance of that final thought flashed through her mind as their mutual, and that time completely synchronous climax began. Brenda heard a combination of his loud, roaring bellow and her high pitched wail of sheer joy echoing all around them as his cock exploded yet again. Then, as she rode him harder and faster she felt herself melting, dissolving as he began thrusting himself upwards, spearing her with his spouting cock, blasting every drop of his precious semen into the very depths of her cunt. Then the jolts of pleasure that sent surging through every single part of her body grew just too intense, and her mind blanked out.

Even so it was Brenda who recovered first, became aware of the hardness of the rock, the sting of the various abrasions to her knees and her back. But stronger and over-riding both those discomforts and the soreness of her pussy were the sensations she felt inside her body. In spite of all they had just done she could still feel her heightened sexuality, her need, no there really was no other word to describe it, her lust for Martin's cock.

Suddenly the memory of the last of the rock paintings returned, the painting showing the figures wildly fucking. She remembered seeing an incomprehensible design in the centre of it, remembered that the couples had been spread all around it, none of them were actually very close to it. She recalled the design she had seen on the rock when Martin had stood there naked, the swirling lines, the way they seemed to have two distinct foci, one around each of their feet, and realised that was the very same design she had seen in the painting.

It took all of her strength of will to push herself up off him and get to her feet, then she shook him, roughly. 'Get up darling! Get up, we have to get off the rock, it's too powerful!'

Martin was even more groggy than Brenda had been, he lay there for a minute or so, a dazed expression on his face, blinking at the sun's glare. When he finally got unsteadily to his feet Brenda saw that in spite of the pounding it had taken such a short time before, his cock was still stiffly erect. It was ridiculous, but she found that just the sight of it was enough to stir the feelings she was actually trying to fight off. So, turning her back on him she hurriedly grabbed her discarded clothes and without wasting time by putting them on, began quickly walking away from the rock.

'Hey, wait for me darling!' Martin called after her.

'In the cave, out of the sun.' She called back to him without either turning or stopping.

Having reached the entrance she turned and saw him hurrying towards her, he too hadn't bothered to dress and her body continued responding to the mere sight of him. The deeply stirring tingling sensations that began somewhere down inside her and then flowed outwards, sensitising every part of her body. Sensation that made her keenly aware of the emptiness at her core, an emptiness that only his powerful, blood-filled cock could satisfy.

Martin was having very similar thoughts. When he'd cleared his head after that final, truly shattering orgasm he'd seen her walking quickly away, found himself staring at the way her tempting buttocks rolled, then, although it should have been physically impossible, felt himself responding to their rhythmic jiggling. He had no idea as to what her words had meant. Something about the rock being too powerful, in what way? But getting his naked body out of the sun made sense, and the urge to feel her body close drew him quickly after her.

She stood under the overhang of the cave's entrance, still naked, her breasts and nipples still tautly swollen, tiny trickles of perspiration running off her neck and then down the valley between them. He saw how much her body was shaking and trembling and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight. 'Are you all right darling?' He asked anxiously. 'I'm sorry if I hurt you. I just don't know what came over me out there.'

Although she heard the genuine concern in his voice, could guess how he felt, understood his confusion, all she could think of was his cock, recalling the sight of it, rearing almost vertically, remembering how it felt when it thrust deep inside her, filling that yearning void. And as he held her tight she could feel the hard length of it pressing against her, and again it took all her strength of will to ignore those images and feelings.

She could hear the tremor in her voice as she answered him. 'Don't worry darling. You didn't hurt me, far from it. But we shouldn't have been where we were, right at the centre like that. It was too strong for us.'

'What do you mean?'

'The rock, it's the centre, maybe even the source. Get dressed, then come and see, it's included in the painting.' She said as she broke from his arms and started quickly dressing herself.




Supernatural Ch. 12



He stood there, his cock still engorged, jerking intermittently up and down as he watched her, but then, recognising the sense in what she'd said, he began pulling his own clothes back on.

When they were finished she took his hand and pulled him after her as she headed for the last of the paintings.

'See darling, there, that pattern, I saw it on the rock!' She said excitedly as she pointed to the faint swirl of lines at the centre. 'See how far from it all these couples are, we were right on it. If it's that effective for the people that far away imagine the power right at the centre, where we were. It's not surprising we went at each other the way we did.'

Martin stared at the painting, then at Brenda, then back at the painting. 'That's what you meant before, when you said the paintings were a sequence. You think this place has some sort of power, for rituals, fertility rituals, or at least something like that.'

'Yes, yes of course! I don't know if it's exactly a fertility ritual, I guess we'll find that out in a month or so.' She added with a giggle. 'But you have to agree that something affected us, stimulated our sex drive.

But remember the sequence of paintings. In the first ones only some of the figures had enlarged genitals, the others were small or non-existent. In this one, after they have been influenced by the force in the earth or the rock itself, they all have enlarged parts. Their sex-drive has been reinforced, boosted. That's exactly what happened to us!'

She paused for a moment before asking in a lower, quieter voice. 'Don't you still feel sexy, even now, after all that we've just done?'

'Yes, yes I do.' Martin admitted. 'I've been a bit worried about that, couldn't understand why. But although what you're suggesting sounds weird, it makes some sort of sense. What I felt out there was nothing like anything I've ever felt before. In a way it was as though it was happening to someone else, not me.'

'And now?'

'Right now I want to make love to you again.' He answered, pulling her back into his arms, his lips finding hers, his hands gripping her bottom tightly.

In spite the equally powerful sense of need Brenda was feeling she was able to persuade Martin that the rock-strewn floor of the cave was not the most suitable place, and with several lingering backward looks, they retraced their path through the cave and then down the hillside.

For a while neither spoke as Martin manoeuvred the car back along the dusty tracks, although her mind was a whirling confusion of thoughts about their experience, Brenda found her eyes constantly drifting across to the unmistakable bulge in Martin's shorts. She found that just the sight of it, coupled with the memories of it powering into her made her want to tell him to pull off the road and do it to her again, and again.

Martin stared straight ahead, not daring to even glance at Brenda, even though he tried to block them out by concentrating on their route back to the main road, the images and memories still filled his head. He recalled the way she had reached out, slipping her hand underneath his cock as she'd said - 'I want you Martin, right now.'. Then the sight of her when she lay back on the rock and spread her legs wide, displaying and offering herself to him. How almost immediately after that first massive climax she'd crawled out from underneath him, then turned, got up on her hands and knees and urged him to do it to her again. He could still hear her voice saying - 'Do it to me again, this way, now!' And most powerful of all was the final memory, of her riding him, at first tenderly, but then much more aggressively, forcing what felt like every single drop of fluid in his body up through his fountaining cock.

The sound of her voice dragged him back to reality, but the images had been so strong he hadn't really heard what she'd said. 'Sorry darling, what did you say?'

'I said let's not waste any time getting back to the motel.' She replied, reaching across to lightly rest her hand on the still swollen bulge in his trousers.

He turned at grinned at her. 'I hear and obey, very, very enthusiastically my darling.'

She left her hand where it was and even through the layers of fabric she was able to feel the pulsing potency of his cock, and, as though that primal power was running back into her, felt her own body responding, re-moistening in readiness for what they both needed.

When they got back to the motel they virtually raped each other. Then, after they had taken a much needed shower, they did it again, then again, and even after that, it was only a different sort of hunger that finally drove them to get up from their literally soaking bed and go out to eat.

Not surprisingly, by then they were both so ravenous that for some time they did little more than deal with that other hunger, but when at least partially satisfied Martin said something that had been gnoring away at the back of his mind. 'After we had come in off the rock, when you were explaining what you thought had been happening to us, you said something. I asked if you thought the place had been used for fertility rites, and you said we might find out in a month or so.'

A cold shiver suddenly ran up through Brenda's body, of course she knew what he meant, and she dreaded his reaction to the potential situation. 'That's what I said, yes.' She answered cautiously.

'Did you mean you thought you might have, well I mean is that time of the month?'

'Well, yes, but no. If you see what I mean.'

'Not really, but, well, how would you feel if you were, well, pregnant.' He said, suddenly relieved to have got the word out.

'That's difficult to answer Martin. For myself, well I'd be thrilled, but...'

'Thrilled! But I thought you didn't want a baby. I mean, well your job, your career!'

The expression on his face told her she'd been completely wrong about what his reaction would be and she reached across the table for his hand. 'You mean you wouldn't mind?'

'Mind? I've always wanted to have kids, even more so since I've met you. But I've always thought that was the last thing you wanted. You've never, ever said anything about having children.'

The sense of relief was so utterly overwhelming that she suddenly laughed, then, ignoring the plates and glasses, half-lifted herself and reached across for him. 'We've both been silly, too scared of what each other might not want. Is that why you've been, well, distant lately?' She said as she let go of him and sat down again.

'I've been feeling, well I suppose I've been feeling that to you thought we were a bit, well a bit sort of, well, temporary. If you understand.'

'Temporary?'

'I know it's not the right word, but I mean having kids would make it more permanent wouldn't it.'

'And that's what you really want?'

'Of course it is, I love you, love you so much Brenda. I've been nearly sick with worry that you saw it all differently. That your career was too important.'

'Well in one way it is important to me, but that certainly doesn't mean we have to give up everything else for it. And I certainly don't want to give up either you, or the chance of having children for, well for what's really just a job, even though it is one I love doing.'

'Have you nearly finished?' He asked, glancing down at her plate.

'Yes, why?' She replied with a mischievous grin.

'Well let's go and see if we can make sure were going to have a baby. We can always ring out for some take-away, later.'

They saw little of their friends during the balance of the holiday, to their confusion and the motel cleaning staff's annoyance, spending much of the rest of the time in bed.

Luckily the potency of whatever it was that had happened to them lessened as time passed. But though they sometimes shared a laugh in later years when they looked back on those first few days and weeks, when their frantic, feverish love-making left them almost exhausted, their bodies raw, their mutual need for each other remained as strong as their love. Love that was further strengthened nine months to the day after their never to be forgotten experience, with the birth of their first child. 



Supernatural Ch. 13



Chapter 13: THE LIBRARIAN

It was my agent's idea that I write the article, and although at the time I thought he'd simply lost his mind, or confused me with another of his clients, in retrospect I have to be eternally grateful to him.

You'll probably understand why my initial reaction was what it was when I tell you that the proposed article was to be on the subject of fairies - yes, that's right, fairies! When I first heard his suggestion my immediate reaction was to just laugh it off as being yet another example of his always slightly sick sense of humour, but then I became rather more concerned when I saw by the expression on his face that he was serious. His logic turned out to be that as a writer who had been successful in popularising the interest in many of the traditional myths and legends the subject should be right up my alley. And given the almost mass hysteria there was at that time for anything even remotely related to fairies, he didn't think he'd have any trouble in selling whatever I had to say on the subject.

Now at that stage I had no idea what he was talking about when he used the phrase 'mass hysteria' but he had a pile of magazines on the desk in front of him and after flipping through a few of those I understood his rationale a little better. I'd had no idea that fairies had developed something verging on a cult-following; that there were shops selling nothing but fairy-items, companies who manufactured fairy-clothes and accessories, others that would organise fairy-parties, magazines devoted to all things fairy. That in fact fairies had become a virtual industry.

Once I began to grasp the implications I understood just what my agent had in mind, and although I was still a little dubious that I was actually the right man for the job I thought that if nothing else, debunking some of the clap-trap that was being circulated might provide me with a bit of fun. So I agreed to spend some time over the following few weeks doing some proper research, then see where that led me, if we got something out of it, good, if not, well I still had enough other work to keep us both going.

He had thoughtfully obtained a few books that he thought might start me off, so having gathered those and a few of the less lurid magazines on his desk I set off to see what else I could find on the subject.

Of course my first stop was the internet, and I was staggered to find that just googling the words 'fairy lore' resulted in over three hundred thousand hits. However, checking out some of the less obviously commercial sites still resulted in me finding people, companies or organisations that were more interested in selling me something than in providing well researched information. So it was back to my tried and true source, the library. Although I have bookshelves full of volumes on my own special subjects there have been many times when I have needed to research some of the more obscure aspects. The library in my nearest major city has usually proved to be of value, and over the years I imagine I have become a familiar figure in both their reference area and its reading room.

Having finished off a couple of the shorter articles I was working on I decided that the following week I would give myself a few days off in the city; I could take in a couple of the shows I had been promising myself and also spend a day or two in the library to see what, if anything, they had on the subject.

I found the thought of even discussing my area of interest with one of the younger staff somewhat embarrassing so I admit I was grateful to see that Barbara Carter was manning the desk. As she knew my use of the reference section was always for serious research she would be less likely to treat my peculiar request as disparagingly as someone else might.

Miss Carter and I had discovered we had similar interest in the origins of myths and legends and because of that the relationship between us had at some time in the past progressed to us being on first name terms. She was, I guessed, somewhere in her early forties and although she had a face that might be described as being handsome, rather than pretty, she had warm, friendly brown eyes that I had often seen twinkle brightly when we talked. As usual she was dressed simply but neatly in dark, loose fitting jacket and pants that I imagined had been chosen as being practical for the type of work she did rather than their fashionability, and, having exchanged the usual, small pleasantries she enquired as to which area of my subject I was planning to further research.

It was all too obvious from the surprised expression on her face that the answer I gave was a very long way from what she had anticipated. 'Fairies?'

'Yes I know it sounds a bit odd, but my agent says they have become very popular and he'd like me to try to do something serious on the subject.'

'Oh I see. Yes, he's right - in fact my local shopping centre has a fairy shop, it gets quite busy on a Saturday morning. But its customers seem to be mostly women with little girls in tow and I'm not sure they'd really be very interested in reading something that's factual.'

'Well I said I'd at least give it the once over, see if anything prompts the muse. Do you have anything on the subject?'

She gave me a rather odd look, almost conspiratorial, as she answered. 'As a matter of fact we do Alan, there are quite a few books with fairly extensive sections on various types of 'little people', as many call them.'

'I suppose in one way it's a bit surprising I haven't actually thought of looking at the subject before.' I said. 'After all I expect that to many people magic is not a great deal less factual than the myths and legends I usually write about.'

'And I think that if you took the total population of the planet it would undoubtedly be a far more widespread series of beliefs. But come along, I'll show you the appropriate section and pick out a few books that will start you off.' She responded as she moved out from behind the main counter.

The next two or three hours were spent in increasingly absorbed reading and note-taking, and, as I'd said to Barbara, in one way I was amazed I had never stumbled on to the subject before. The more I read about the various types of 'little people' the more I realised how strongly their place in many peoples lives resembled those of the gods and other supernatural beings of other ancient races. Celtic folklore seemed to be a particularly rich source, but I found myself wondering just how much of that had merely been their reconfiguration of the beliefs of the people they had replaced. If so, where had been the actual starting point of all these in many ways oddly similar tales?

I was so engrossed in what I was turning up that I completely lost track of time and was only brought back to reality by Barbara's return. 'Are you planning on taking a lunch break Alan?' she asked.

'Oh, I had no idea I'd already been at it for so long.' I answered as I glanced down at my watch.

'It's just that I'm going for a sandwich, I wondered if you'd like to join me.' she said somewhat hesitantly, before adding. 'I've read quite a good deal on the subject, we could sort of swap notes, if you like.'

'I would like that very much Barbara, thank you for suggesting it. So long as it's my treat, after all it'll be a business lunch, won't it.'

She smiled, and I saw her eyes twinkle. 'If you insist, it'll make a change for it to be me giving you information.' she added, referring to the times I'd answered her occasional question about something in my usual field.

Our lunch was of necessity fairly brief but even so it was obvious from the way she spoke that she did indeed have a great depth of knowledge on the subject and as I considered what she was saying, plus what I had already read that morning, I found myself at least reconsidering the way I would tackle the proposed article. My original plan was to pooh-pooh the whole business, use my well-established reputation to take it apart, show that the subject was nothing more than a mish mash of childish clap-trap. 

However, in addition to the information I'd gleaned there was an underlying passion in Barbara's voice that I could neither ignore nor, given what I'd previously seen of her rationally systematic approach to academic matters, fully discount.

'From some of the things you're saying, and more importantly, the way you are saying them, if I didn't know you better I might well get the impression that you have had a personal experience of them Barbara.' I said when she had spoken particularly enthusiastically about the validity of those stories relating to 'fairy rings'.

I had expected her to laughingly dismiss her animation as having being fuelled by having the opportunity to discuss something she was keenly interested in with someone familiar with professional research. What I didn't expect was to see her blush, which is exactly what she did, then dropped her eyes down to the semi-empty plate in front of her and, for quite some time, said nothing.

'Well.' she finally answered in a low, barely audible voice, 'in some way, perhaps I have.'

'I beg your pardon?' I said in amazement.

'I said, perhaps I have, after all - 'there are more things in heaven and earth...'

'Are you serious?'

She said nothing for another long, silent period, then replied. 'There's a book that isn't in the library, it's one of my own, if you're really interested, and wouldn't just use it to make fun of the whole subject, I'll bring it in for you to have a look at tomorrow morning.'

I was impressed by both her offer and the obvious sincerity of the conditions behind it, and said so. 'In that case I'll give you a couple of others to examine this afternoon, what they contain will better prepare you for what you might find in mine.' she answered somewhat mysteriously as she began to get up from the table.

Neither of us spoke as we made our way back to the reference section, I was wondering what on earth I'd find in Barbara's book, and she was perhaps wondering whether her spur-of-the-moment offer had really been advisable. But whether or not that was the case, before she left me to my own devices she brought out the two books she had suggested I read through.

The first was a small paperback entitled simply, 'Fairy Rings and Circles', the second a far older and very much heavier tome. As it posed much less of a threat I began with the former and discovered it contained two sections; 'Fairy Rings - the Reality' and 'Fairy Rings - the Superstitions'. It was definitely enlightening and having learned far more about fungi than I had previously known, I briefly skimmed through the multitude of explanations that the phenomenon had given rise to in various parts of the world.

The second book contained nothing scientific; it was purely devoted to the multitude of myths and legends about fairies and included a large section devoted to fairy rings.

I spent a couple of hours on that book; sometimes fascinated by the stretches of imagination that the human mind is capable of when confronted by what is an apparently incomprehensible and otherwise inexplicable object or event, and admittedly sometimes found myself caught up by the stories themselves.

Of course I already knew that the terms 'fairies' and 'little people' covered a very large array of different types of creatures; that some of them were good, some wickedly mischievous, and that a few were said to be positively malevolent. What I hadn't realised was that they could come in so many sizes, that in fact some could be as large, or even bigger than we human beings. However, most of the stories of encounters with these beings were along the lines I had already anticipated; involving the person being subsequently endowed with either good or bad luck, or the bestowing of various numbers of wishes. Then there were those implying the virtual abduction of someone - for some reason it appeared that those most usually involved a youth or young man - and even in those cases when they were eventually returned it was not until many, many years later, the story of Rip Van Winkle probably being the most well known.

I could see no sign of Barbara as I left the library so had no opportunity to question her as to just why she had given me that particular book to examine and had to be satisfied with merely mulling over both that and its contents during the evening. Although I had detected many specifically cultural differences in the style and content of the stories I had also seen many parallels with the myths and legends I was more used to exploring and dissecting.

The appearances of the supernatural beings - whether they were gods or fairies - were in very similar situations; sometimes as the result of a specific quest to a certain spot, sometimes completely unexpectedly. Their demands were just as arbitrarily diverse; sometimes requiring some relatively simple action, sometimes setting what would be considered quite impossible tasks. There were also some very possible explanations for a few of the stories; for instance, it would be far easier in bygone ages for a young woman to explain an otherwise tragically ruinous pregnancy on the appearance and action of an all-powerful god or fairy.

So, having developed what I considered to be a perfectly reasonable and rational hypothesis; that the stories were merely yet another example of humankind's need to explain the vagaries of life and their surrounding environment in stories, I went to bed and slept as soundly as usual.

When I arrived back at the library the following morning Barbara gave the distinct impression that she had been standing there awaiting my appearance. 'I got caught up in one of our interminable meetings yesterday afternoon, did you find the books useful?' she asked.

'Yes I did, thank you, though I thought it was a rather odd combination, and of course I didn't have enough time to read the larger one properly.' I replied.

'But at least it would have given you a broader understanding of the range of beliefs that have been built-up on the subject matter. Do you still have time to examine the one I mentioned?'

'I'll certainly be interested to see why you think it's important that I do, but I must say that when I thought about it last night I came to the conclusion that it's hard to ignore the many parallels between what I suppose I can only call fairy-stories and the more generally accepted classic myths and legends.'

'I'm glad you saw that Alan, but there is one major difference.'

'And that is?'

'The encounters between gods and mortals apparently came to an end with the close of what we might call the classical era, whereas contacts with little people have continued to be reported right through to far more recent times.'

What she said certainly made sense and I paused for a few moments to consider the various rationales that immediately sprang to mind. A physical visitation by an all powerful god or goddess would be much harder to substantiate than would be a supposed contact with a tiny elf or fairly. Then, apart from the frequent lecherous behaviour of some of them, the activities of the classical deities had generally been to make dramatic differences to human lives; the outcomes of battles, the long-term redirection of various group's activities and such like. By comparison the stories concerning Barbara's little people had involved much more personal, one-on-one activities. And unlike the situation in more recent times, myths and legends had developed within communities in an age when the mathematics of coincidence was undreamed of and there were no generally accepted scientific explanations for seemingly dreadful natural events. But in spite of that quick analysis I realised I would need much more time to come up with some more logically rational reason as to why the incidence of fairy encounters had continued so much longer, and said so.

'Perhaps we should consider the possibility that it's just because they did actually continue to happen.' she answered almost matter of factly as she stooped to lift a large box from beneath the reception desk, then added. 'I'll take you through to our private reading room Alan, you won't want to be disturbed while you're examining this.'

She took me through to a small room I hadn't seen before, where there was a large reading-desk and chair and a small, empty book-case, but little else. 'I know it's rather Spartan but you'll find the chair is comfortable and I can promise you won't be disturbed in here.' she said with a rather odd look as she placed the box on the desk.

The book she took out was massive, its pages large enough to take full plate sized illustrations, and it was obviously extremely old. The cover was undoubtedly genuine leather and even at first glance I could tell that the binding had been hand-crafted. 'You'll need these Alan.' Barbara said, opening a drawer in the desk to take out two pairs of the white cotton gloves we all used when handling valuable manuscripts.

'How long have you had this?' I asked.

'It's been in my family for many generations, handed down from mother to daughter, or in my case, from my grandmother to me. My mother died when I was very young and my grandmother waited until a couple of years ago before deciding whether to pass it on to me or my sister. I'm so glad she made the choice she did, I think my sister would have just sold it. But as to its age, I really can't tell you. I have my own educated guess but I'm not prepared to take it to an expert to validate it, I think you'll understand why, after you've had time to examine it yourself.'

Although mystified by what she'd said I remained silent as she lovingly lifted the book from its box and carefully placed it in the centre of the desk. 'I'll leave you to it now. But I'll come back and check on you in a couple of hours.' she added as she turned and left me alone.

A closer look at the unopened book confirmed my first impressions, it was certainly old, very, very old, and definitely hand bound in richly tooled, dark leather. There was a slightly frayed, braided page-marker inserted somewhere about two-thirds of the way through the book, which at that stage I ignored. When I opened the cover I found that, perhaps to provide greater strength and durability the leather had been continued right around its inside, then that the ornately scrolling text had not been produced by any mechanical printing process and that even the extra thick paper the pages were made from had almost certainly also been hand made.

Unlike more modern books this one had neither introduction nor an index of contents, so I did what I had to, plunging straight in. Luckily I was already familiar with the language, which I guessed to be from around Chaucer's time, but some of the vocabulary was tricky and quite a few words were so obscure as to be even hard to deduce from their context. But as I always tell my students, when faced with that situation the best way to deal with the problem is to simply press on, allow the meaning to filter through, so that's exactly what I did. The first part of the book apparently dealt with nothing more than a whole range of maladies and their remedies, which, as I had no interest in such things I was able to progress through quite quickly. But then came a large section detailing and illustrating various kinds of 'fairy folk', as they were described, which I read far more attentively.

The illustrations were done quite beautifully and I knew that because of their quality, and quite apart from anything else about the book, if Barbara ever wanted to place it on the market she could expect to receive a very, very large sum of money from its sale.

I became so absorbed in both the images and their accompanying text that I quite lost track of time but it must have been a good deal more than an hour before I progressed to the next section, which was a group of what were reputed to be actual personal accounts of meetings with various kinds of fairy folk. A few of those also had illustrations, but they were generally of a much lesser quality and it was the tales themselves that intrigued me. Most of them were variations on the well-known themes; the granting of wishes for some spontaneous kindness, the ill-luck that followed from a human's misdeed - or sometimes, and for no apparent reason, the reporting of the actual spiriting away of some person.




Supernatural Ch. 13



One of these was rather different from most of the other similar tales in that it contained far more detail. It was supposedly written by a young man who had been returning late one night from a clandestine tryst with a young girl from a neighbouring farm. He had cut through a small, hill-top copse when he saw there a group of fairies dancing around inside a fairy-ring. Although initially frightened by the sight, as he thought they hadn't seen him and he was fascinated by their activities, he stopped, remaining in the shadows while he continued furtively watching them. But of course he'd been wrong, they knew very well that he was there, and had their own plans for his fate. He found he was soon being slowly drawn closer to their dance and then, some little time later, was whisked away with them to their own far off land.

But even though it could well have been no more than a sexually frustrated young man's wishful thinking, it was his account of what supposedly happened next that really intrigued me. According to his story he was welcomed by a group of breath-takingly beautiful fairy-women, some of whom were the same size as humans, who let him know that as he had been brought there for their pleasure he could be assured he would be extremely well treated.

While a few of the smaller ones played some ethereally sweet music and others fluttered about bringing him a goblet of wine and several plates of food, the larger ones sat with him; smiling, stroking his hair, telling him how handsome he was, how strong, how manly. Their attentions were not only extremely flattering for a naïvely young, country lad but, as their diaphanous gowns did little to either hide or disguise their feminine charms, he all too quickly discovered they were also very sexually stimulating. Of course his loose fitting trousers provided plenty of room for his rapidly growing erection, a fact that didn't escape the fairy women's notice and it wasn't long before they were ignoring his feeble protests, and stripping him.

The documentation did not go into great detail of what followed, just stating that the fairy folk seemed to have some way of regularly re-energising the young man's potency, only releasing him from his undoubtedly pleasurable labours when each of them had been fully satisfied.

The tale obviously hadn't completely finished and would no doubt be continued overleaf so I turned the page - to find that was the one that had been marked by the braided book-mark and that rather than going on with the story, it contained what appeared to be a double-page illustration of the actual event. Unlike the other illustrations in that section it had been done in the same realistically detailed style that I had admired in the earlier one.

The scene was set in a brightly moonlit forest glade and showed the activity of many small fairies. Unlike virtually every image I'd seen previously, in which the creatures appeared to be very child-like, the quite distinctive shape of their bodies left no doubt that each of these was a miniature version of an adult male or female. They were all busy carrying plates heaped with what appeared to be an assortment of fruits and sweetmeats, their wings glistening and shimmering as they darted in and out between the trees and the moonlight. But, in spite of the beauty of that part of the picture it was impossible to ignore what was happening in the foreground, which was also depicted in life-like detail. There, off to one side of the forest clearing was presumably the young man at the centre of the tale, semi-reclining on what was obviously a lush bank of grass while being attended to by three extremely attractive young women. They not only had sensually beautiful faces, but their bodies, the lush ripeness of which showed all too clearly through the diaphanous gowns, were equally arousing. The kisses and caresses he was receiving from two of them had obviously proved most effective, because at that stage he was already sporting an obviously healthy erection, down on to which the third was all too obviously preparing to push herself.

I found there was something about the combination of the exquisite craftsmanship of the painting and the explicit graphicness of that large section that made the image utterly mesmerising, and I felt myself staring down at it, staring hard, and maybe more than a little enviously.

But then, after perhaps a couple of minutes or so of unblinking staring I began to feel as though I was somehow actually being drawn into the image, being drawn downwards, being drawn deeper and deeper. At the same time I felt a sort of giddiness flowing through me, a dizzy sensation that was not restricted to just my head, but that seemed to affect my entire body.

To this day I have no real explanation for what followed. Did I have some kind of fainting spell? Something that had never, ever happened to me before. Or did I just fall asleep? That seems highly unlikely at that time of the morning, but I suppose it might be possible. Other than those two rather weak explanations I have to leave it to others to decide. All I can do is recount what I still feel certain actually happened to me.

When the dizziness passed I found I was standing in the centre of that self-same forest glade; the moonlight was still illuminating it, the small, previously flittering fairies were hovering nearby, and there, standing in front of me, were the three human sized versions. They were wearing the same diaphanous gowns I had seen in the picture, each one in a tone that enhanced their subtly different colouring and which did little to hide the all too obvious feminine charms beneath them. They were smiling, and even in the relatively dim light I could see that each pair of eyes was sparkling with what might have been amused anticipation. One of them spoke, in a voice that was both light and musical. 'Welcome, we have been expecting your visit. Come, let us eat and drink a little.' 

The other two took my hands and led me across to the grassy bank I remembered from the painting, one reaching for a large silk covered pillow that she placed behind me, the other gently pushing me downwards. As that was happening I noticed a reactivated flurry of activity by the much tinier fairies; groups of two or three of them darting off into the trees then quickly returning with either large, burnished plates bearing dainties or a number of variously sized silver flasks and goblets.

I have no idea what I actually ate and drank; the food was in bite-sized morsels, sometimes sugary, sometimes more savoury, the drink was wine-like, but a little thicker and sweeter than any wine I'd previously tasted. But whether it was the food or the wine, or perhaps the combination of both, I had only taken a few mouthfuls before I felt it having an effect on me. All traces of the previous dizziness had completely left me, my entire body felt, well perhaps revitalised is the best way to describe it. But it wasn't just a general feeling of well-being; it was almost as though I could feel myself being energised in some hard to explain way; actually feel the blood coursing through my veins, feel my normally quite out of condition muscles flexing, feel my very maleness being somehow strengthened, feel my normally purely subconscious awareness of it being somehow heightened.

And of course as all those sensations became ever sharper the actuality of the femininity of my three companions became even more strikingly palpable. The one who had spoken to me, a dark brunette with long curling tresses was the most voluptuous, even the generously loose folds of her gown being quite unable to fully hide or disguise the undoubtedly ripely full body beneath it. The other two were more slenderly curvaceous, long-limbed, perhaps a little younger; one, green-eyed and with chestnut highlights in her hair, the other a classic blue-eyed, honey-gold blonde.

Although she acted without any trace of actual superiority it was obvious that the other two subtly deferred to the darker one, it was she who directed which food and wine I should be offered and although I sensed their eyes were watching my every slightest movement, she was the only one who spoke while I ate.

'You must forgive my sisters' all too rapt attention' she said with a smile. 'It has been far too long a time since we had the pleasure of a visit from one of your kind, so they are understandably curious about you. And,' she added knowingly, 'being young they of course find their sense of anticipation greatly heightened.'

'Anticipation of what?' I asked rather uneasily.

'Of the pleasures we will share once you have taken your fill.' she replied with surprise. 'What other purpose could we have in bringing you here! But come, drain your cup now, let actions speak in place of words.'

As I did as she'd instructed she rose to stand beside me, then, with one swift pass of her hand I found myself lying there naked, but not only naked, but possessing what was even for me, a truly remarkable erection. Of necessity my work in previous years, researching and writing on the subject of ancient myths and legends, had meant I had lived what to most people would have seemed a very 'dry and dusty' life. It had been some time since I had been in any kind of relationship and both delving into the archives of libraries and the writing of books are by their very nature, rather solitary activities. However, prior to that phase I had enjoyed an active sex-life and had on a few occasions had both the size and potency of my manhood quite spontaneously remarked on by several women. And of course since that time I had, like virtually all men in similar circumstances, at least satisfied my physical needs and pleasures by masturbating a few times a week. But what I saw when I looked down the length of my body appeared even larger, and in some way, more animalistic than what I was used to seeing.

But I had little time to ponder the cause of its unusual appearance, even as I was registering it I saw another movement, and when I looked up I saw that the woman had slipped the robe down off herself, and that she too was totally naked.

Her body was magnificent; her curves lushly ripe, yet still youthfully firm, her heavily swollen breasts tipped with large, reddish brown aureoles from which the twin spikes of her nipples were already prominently jutting. Her waist was slender and her hips just sufficiently rounded, her stomach no more than a barely discernible swelling, and beneath it, a dark, apparently neatly trimmed triangle of tightly curled hair.

Just the sight of her was enough to send a rush of lustful desire through me and I felt my already fully engorged member jerk strongly in anticipation of what else might soon be about to happen. Its action brought a low gasping hiss from nearby and I momentarily glanced sideways, to where the two younger women were sitting, and saw that both pair of eyes were staring intently at my body's reactions.

Then the woman above me re-commanded my total attention by stepping astride me. 'We have need of your seed, but will give you the utmost amount of pleasure in return for it.' she said. 'Is that agreeable?' she added as she bent her knees and began lowering herself.

Because my eyes were fixed on the sight of the pearly rose coloured folds I could see actually unfurling between her legs I was incapable of giving more that a mere nod of assent and as my hands reached up to cup the firm globes of her breasts, I felt her sex slipping down over my cock, then her body engulfing me.

She certainly hadn't lied to me; the pleasures she gave me as she slowly and expertly took me to that first orgasm were unlike any I had ever previously known. From the way she rode me it was obvious that time was of no importance to her, she was apparently only interested in two, perhaps three things; the size and strength of my climax, the pleasures I experienced leading up to it, and perhaps those she also received during the process.

From my reactions she could have had no doubt as to the sheer ecstasy I experienced during however long it was that she fucked me, if what I saw and felt as she also reacted to what was happening between us was anything to go by she shared at least some of that, and, when she finally allowed my super-heated cock to erupt so violently she must have been more than satisfied with the volume of semen I produced. So, given all that, the look of satisfaction on her face as she bent to kiss me once she was satisfied I had finished was not entirely surprising, but what she said as she lifted her head again, was. 'A little refreshment, then it's my sisters' turn.'

But, even more surprising than the thought that after such a massively draining orgasm I was expected to be capable of performing again, was the way I looked and felt as she squelchingly lifted herself up off me. My cock was not only not falling limply but was undoubtedly still pulsatingly rigid, and I also found that the lustful feelings the mere sight of her had engendered were still strongly coursing through me.

I was given little time to marvel at my condition, while one of the two younger women brought me a brimming goblet of wine to drink, the other busied herself by gently bathing my cock and balls with warm, scented water. As before, the wine seemed to recharge and re-energise me and the feel of long, slender fingers certainly did wonders for my tenderly sensitive balls and still fully engorged cock. So it was not too surprising that when, just a short time later, the chestnut haired woman slipped off her robe and lay down beside me, I was more than ready to savour whatever level of pleasure she was prepared to give me in exchange for what I understood she also wanted from me.

From the outset she was far more urgently energetic than her sister had been, even as I slid into her I felt her arching herself upwards, then I hadn't been thrusting for too long before she lifted her legs and locked them around me. 'Don't concern yourself about me, get as deep, and go as fast and as hard as you want to.' she whispered.

Although just simple, straightforward fucking had never been my idea of love-making and I had been deprived of what I had always found almost as enjoyable as the sex act itself, the finer points of foreplay, right then what she'd suggested was just what I needed. So I let myself go and literally rode her as though it might be the very last time I would be able to do it with anyone.

But even so as I watched the changing expression on her face I was pleased to see that what I was doing so mindlessly seemed to be giving her exactly what she herself wanted. And, even though I recognised that it was whatever they had done to me that had refuelled my lustful hunger I was nonetheless amazed at the apparently still massive amount of semen I was able to produce when I finally climaxed.

That time I was in one way pleased to see that when I pulled myself out of her my penis, unlike after the first bout, was wilting, quickly shrinking back to a much more normal size. But I hadn't been the only one to see its response. 'Oh, that's unfair!' I heard the honey-blonde cry.

'Don't be concerned, he still has more to give, and do not forget that we need to plumb him to his very deepest level to obtain what we really need. And who is better equipped to do that than you little sister.' the older woman added encouragingly.

Then again I was refreshed by still more of the revitalising wine before the girl who was apparently the youngest of the three, began to bathe and wash me. She took a great deal more care than her sister had done the first time, pouring some sort of balm on to her hands which her fingers then turned into a rich lather as they gently worked me over. I don't know whether it was the wine, the balm, her tender touch, or the combination all three that had the desired result but within a very short time both my cock and the rest of my body were more than ready for what she had so obviously been preparing it for.

But I would have been wrong if I'd thought that just my readiness and a good, strong erection were enough for her, far from it. First she had me get up on to my hands and knees, then slid herself down beneath me, once there she reached up and, taking my balls in one hand, curled her other around the shaft then lifted her head a little and guided my cock down to her lips. I heard myself gasp as she slipped them over the head and then grunting as I felt her hands start squeezing and stroking as she literally sucked me deep inside the warm velvet of her mouth.

She may have been the youngest of the three sisters but she was certainly no neophyte in the arts of cock-fondling and sucking, knowing exactly when and how to most effectively inflame the most primitive male passions. And not just that but she must have also known that by steadily building my excitement to one level, then holding me there before starting to take me up to one just a little bit higher, she would eventually ensure the most dramatically explosive response from me.

By the time she had finally finished with me I felt more like some wild, long frustratedly penned-up bull than a normally self-controlled and mild-mannered intellectual and I feel sure that if at that moment I had been told that to relieve my totally overwhelming sexual frustration I would have to spend the rest of my life in obscurity and poverty, I would have had no choice but to accept. And when I looked down at the source of all those feelings I saw that my cock was by then nothing short of grotesque; the head bulbous, a dark plum colour, and glossy from the mix of her saliva and what had already been seeping from it, and the shaft, blood-red, streaked with blue-black and distortedly knotted veins.

As I stared at the virtually unrecognisable thing it had become the young girl moved, swiftly; pulling herself forward then getting up on her hands and knees in front of me, assuming the submissive pose and presenting her still moistly ready pussy to me by dropping her head down to the earth and pushing high the perfectly formed twin globes of her arse. 

In the condition I was in I doubt if there is any known power that could have held me back, I lunged forward, only subconsciously registering the thrilling slippery tightness as I thrust myself deep inside her.

As before, even though I was able to fuck her for far longer than I would have previously thought possible, because the thrills her super-tight pussy were giving me were so exhilarating, the act still seemed all too perfunctory. But unlike the previous times, that time I knew for certain that the girl achieved her own orgasm, in fact she had several of them. But I certainly can't take full credit for whatever she felt, she contributed energetically, sometimes pushing herself back and forth in time with my powerful thrusting and sometimes either flexing or rotating her body around my pistoning cock. Then, some time before my own orgasm even started rising, I heard her utter a series of low, whimpering gasps and felt the unmistakable sensations caused by her own internal contractions. 

Because by then my entire body was so fired up I felt sure that feverishly rhythmic tightening would finish me off, but I couldn't have been more wrong, it merely sent the pressure inside me even higher. As did her subsequent three or four climaxes, until the level of excitedly frustrated pleasure-pain I was feeling was virtually unbearable.

However, nothing could hold back the inevitable and some time later I literally exploded - and I was certain that the massive loads of blistering semen I felt jetting out of me were even bigger than those I had produced for the other two women.

But what happened next was in some ways even more unbelievable than everything that had preceded it. Just as I felt my cock discharging what I thought was my very last spurt of semen the girl cried - 'Now sisters, now!' - and as she pulled herself forward off me I felt a pair of hands reaching for me, the heel of one pressing firmly up beneath my still tightly swollen balls, the other encircling my still rock-hard cock and immediately starting to vigorously pump it.




Supernatural Ch. 13



Although I had in front of me the captivating sight of both the girl I had been fucking's arse and her by then messily dripping pussy, something made me look down at what was happening beneath me, and saw, held beneath my still bloatedly swollen and fully engorged cock, a large silver bowl. Given the condition I was in at that moment I have no idea how I made the connection but their intention suddenly became clear to me when I remembered what I had heard the older sister saying to the young girl. 'Don't be concerned, he still has more to give, and do not forget that we need to plumb him to his very deepest level to obtain what we really need.' They were after yet another load of semen from me, one that was in some way extra special to them.

I admit that right then I thought their efforts would be futile. I had already come three times in what must have been less than one hour and not only was that far more often than I would have thought I was capable of, but given the gut-wrenching force of each one of them I felt certain that I had already produced a great deal more semen than should have been physically possible.

But I was wrong! Unlike any other time when once an orgasm was completed continued manipulation of my cock had always proved to be almost unbearably irritating, that time I quickly found that what she was doing was in fact rebuilding my excitement. And not only my excitement, within a remarkably short time I could also sense the familiar draining surge that usually heralded the lead up to yet another climax. Perhaps whichever of the two older sisters that was actually working me up also sensed some subtle change in my reactions because just then she altered what she was doing. While the hand that had been pumping continued moving its actions became a little slower, stroking up and down more sensuously determinedly, and at the same time I felt her other hand take hold of me, its stroking fingers setting to work on my cock-head.

All that time I had had the other sister, the one holding the bowl beneath me, pressing the heel of her other hand firmly up into my groin, but she too must have sensed whatever signals my body was giving off because as what was being done to my cock changed I felt her fingers curling up around my balls, then gently and rhythmically squeezing them.

The combination was just too much and within a very short time I felt my entire body reacting; every muscle tensing, the sense of anticipated release intensifying, my balls rising and tightening, my cock feeling it was about to burst. Then, after not much more than half a dozen more firmly jerky hand-strokes, it did, and I literally erupted!

Heaven knows if they were actually able to catch all of it in the waiting bowl, I was in no condition to either watch, or really care, all I knew was the ecstatic relief from the almost tortured pressure I had been experiencing in those last few minutes. But, if the expressions of delighted satisfaction I was vaguely conscious of hearing in the three voices that greeted my massive ejaculation was anything to go by, they did. All I knew was that at that moment the one thing I needed more than anything was to be left alone, to sleep. And I did just that, collapsing down on to the soft green grass beneath me, and then simply rolled over and instantly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

In time I became aware of the sound of muffled drumming, I had no idea nor in fact any interest in where it came from or what it signalled and it was only with great reluctance that I allowed its incessant sound to finally stir me. Then, when I opened my eyes I found myself slumped across the desk in the room at the library - the drumming was the sound of someone knocking at the door. It took an enormous effort of sheer will-power to push myself up and literally stagger across to open it, and standing outside, was Barbara Carter.

She gave me a long, searching look, then looked past me, at the desk, where I had left her opened book. She moved by me, closing the door behind herself. 'Do you want to tell me what happened?' she said in an oddly compassionate tone as she went to the desk and closed, then picked up the volume.

Tell her what happened? How could I, I had just fallen asleep and then had a strange and extremely disturbing dream that would be absolutely impossible to discuss with anyone. But before I could even start thinking about how to respond Barbara continued. 'If it makes it easier to talk about Alan I should tell you I have also been there, and although I can't begin to imagine how you were treated I do know a little of what goes on.'

I'm sure the look on my face said much more than I was capable of verbalising, did she mean what it sounded as though she did - that what I had dreamed was in fact something other than a dream? But again she anticipated my reluctance to reply. 'The library is closed now, just about everybody else has already gone, come and have a coffee at my place, it'll be easier for you to talk there.'

Although my first thought was that the last thing I wanted to do right then was talk, the suggestion of coffee certainly sounded good, and maybe, just maybe I did need someone like Barbara to help me explain away whatever it was that had happened in my head. 

'It's not far, just a short walk, that is if you actually can manage to put one foot in front of another.' she added with a hint of sympathetic amusement in her voice.

For some reason I did seem ridiculously weary, as though I had put in a hard day in the garden rather having spent it merely desk-bound, but the fresh air and gentle exercise did seem to restore some sort of normal circulation. Barbara left me to my own thoughts during the walk and they insisted on continuing to whirl uncontrollably. Given the subject I was in the process of researching it was possible to rationalise the reason why I would conjure up the place and perhaps even the images I had dreamed of, but the apparent effects of what I had dreamed was quite another matter. Even though my sex-life in recent months had been all but nonexistent, that couldn't fully explain either the luridly graphic nature of my imaginings, or, even more puzzlingly, the physical tiredness I had woken up with.

Even once inside her apartment Barbara left me while she bustled about doing something in the kitchen - but still I could find no rational explanation for my odd experience, in fact the more I thought about it the stranger it became. I found that unlike virtually any other dream, where occasionally particular fragments can be recalled on awakening, I was even then able to remember virtually everything, and in disturbingly sharp focus. The images of each of the three women remained crisply clear, as did both the memory of what each of them had done with me, and perhaps even more astonishingly, even the echoes of the sensations I had felt.

When Barbara returned she brought in with her a tray on which there were two cups of steaming coffee, a plate of biscuits and a couple of glasses containing a generous serving of an amber fluid. 'I thought a brandy or two might prove restorative, purely medicinal of course.' she said as she passed one of the glasses to me.

I took it gratefully, swirled it around for a moment, then drank it. 'It's not something I normally do at this time of day, but thank you.' I said as I placed the empty glass down. 'I think one will be sufficient, but the coffee smells good.'

'Help yourself to biscuits while I tell you about my experience, then you can decide if you want to share anything with me about yours. OK?'

'We'll see.' I answered noncommittally.

'As I told you when I brought in my book to show you, it's been in my family for many generations - just how many I really don't know - but as you could have seen, it is extremely old. Since it's been in my possession I have spent countless hours examining and reading it and by now I could give you large chunks of text verbatim. I'm absolutely positive there's not a single page I haven't studied many, many times.' she said before pausing to take a drink of coffee before continuing.

'Then about a month ago, one evening when I was feeling just a little bored with myself, I found I was sitting here just idly flicking through the pages. I won't say the book opened itself to the page you were looking at, but at the time it certainly felt as though it had. Anyway, when I looked down at it the picture seemed to be different in some way. I mean I must have previously examined that one at least a dozen times, I felt sure I knew every single thing about it and I was puzzled as to why I should think it somehow looked different. So I peered at it more closely, trying to identify exactly what had aroused my interest. And then what I think happened to you, happened to me.'

'And what was that Barbara?'

'I was taken there!' she replied self-assuredly.

Of course I have no idea what expression appeared on my face at that moment, whether it was one of absolutely disbelieving incredulity or perhaps something that hinted at, if only subconsciously, a sense of utter relief. 'And I can prove it.' she added, 'I can tell you their names - and you won't find those anywhere in the book!'

'They never got around to introducing themselves.' I replied somewhat lamely.

'So, you did go there!' Barbara exclaimed. 'I knew it, that's why you're exhausted. They said they needed a human's seed, they obviously got it from you, didn't they!'

'If it wasn't just a particularly vivid dream, or some sort of mental hallucination, yes, yes they did. But although they didn't tell me why, I do remember them saying something about wanting my seed.'

'I'll tell you what they told me, but first I want to know exactly what happened to you, and I mean exactly, no euphemisms, and no cutting out the gory bits.' she added with a distinctly wicked grin.

Recounting the details of my sexual encounters was not something I had ever done before and I don't mind admitting I found just the thought of doing so extremely embarrassing. But Barbara made it easier by telling me that first she would like to compare some of the details of my memories with her own; things such as a description of the woodland setting, what I had noticed the tiny helpers doing, and exactly what the three women had been wearing. I suppose I have always been observant by nature and my work has further refined and developed both that talent and my ability to recall detail, so I was able to give her a mass of information. But once those aspects had been more than thoroughly dealt with I found myself floundering and Barbara had to start prodding me for a more accurate description of what had been said, and, even more disturbingly, exactly what had happened.

Adding to my discomfort as I made slow, hesitant progress was the fact that I found the mere retelling of the activities was affecting me physically, it was as though my body, and especially my genitals had memories of their own, memories they were all too eager to respond to. Recalling the sight, scent, touch and effects each of the women had had on me not only gave me an almost instantaneous erection but also stirred-up the unusually strong feelings of lust I'd experienced at the time.

I was also vaguely aware that even as she was encouraging me to provide her with ever more graphic detail Barbara's eyes seemed to be watching me with unusually close attention. However, in spite of the combination of all the things happening to me I somehow managed to press on, recounting what I remembered of the events that had led up to each of the four orgasms I'd been given. Once she no longer had to prod and prompt me for detail she sat quietly, and other than the occasionally raised eyebrow, a tightening of her mouth, or a slight shifting in her seat, she made no comment, until I mentioned the bowl that had been positioned beneath me before what turned out to be my final ejaculation.

And then - 'Aaah.' - was all she uttered as she leaned slightly towards me.

She waited until it was clear that I'd completed my description then asked me what I made of the experience. 'To be honest, I really have no idea. I'm still not convinced it was anything more than a dream, a hallucination, something brought on by perhaps a combination of tiredness and all the reading I have been doing. But if that's all it was then I have to admit that it's hard to explain the way my body has been reacting.'

'And the erection you've got while you have been talking to me?'

I know I blushed crimson when I realised she had noticed the unmistakable bulge in my trousers, and perhaps even more by the fact that she had not been too embarrassed to mention it.

'I was expecting you to react that way, you see I know how my visit affected my own sexuality.' she added when she saw I was too self-conscious to respond.

'In what way?' I asked, as a way of avoiding any further comments about what I was feeling myself.

'Let's say it's been super-heightened.' she replied almost wistfully. 'My sex-life has been non-existent for the last few years, and its absence never really bothered me, my work and my other activities seemed more than sufficient for me. But since my return I don't seem to be able to think about anything else, I don't mind admitting it's been a constant and most times, a really unwelcome pressure. I thought that perhaps once I did what they asked me to I'd find it abating, but so far it hasn't, in fact hearing you tell me what they did for you has only made it ten times worse.'

'What on earth did they ask you to do?' I asked, ignoring her final statement, and the almost pleading look she gave me as she spoke it.

'They asked me to find someone, someone like you; mature, intelligent, and male.'

'Why?'

'It's an interesting question but the answer's perhaps a bit overlong to tell you right now.' she said throatily as she pushed herself up out of her chair and began undoing the buttons down the front of her jacket.

Just the sight of her fingers unfastening her clothes accelerated the lustful fire that recounting my experiences had apparently lit inside me, but although the need to satisfy those feelings was almost overwhelmingly powerful at that moment what was even stronger was the discomfort I felt from my swiftly engorging penis pressing hard up against my trousers.

I stood and began doing what she was. 'The bedroom's this way.' she said, turning and leading the way down a short hallway.

We stripped in no time flat and although of course her body was nowhere near as beautiful as those of the three women in my dreamlike experience its imperfections only seemed to make it even more desirable and whatever it was that was driving us both clearly had control of our actions - we had sex, we fucked - what we did to and with each other certainly couldn't be described as 'making love' - and at the end of it we were both left gaspingly exhausted.

It was some time before I regained enough strength to even wonder how I had been capable of performing the way I had done, let alone consider the why's and wherefore's of many of our actions. Then at some stage during that time of recovery I was vaguely aware of Barbara slipping from the bed and padding out of the room but it took the large brandy she returned with to bring me back to full consciousness.

'So, do you still want to hear the answers to your questions, or is all that now irrelevant?' she asked as she refilled my glass a few minutes later.

'Far from it.' I answered, then added facetiously 'Though after what we have just done I'm beginning to wonder if the whole thing wasn't some plot of yours to just finally get us together.'

She chuckled. 'I didn't notice you complaining, but maybe what I have to tell you will help you understand a little better. But you will have to suspend your normal intellectual disbelief if it's going to make sense to you.'

I said I would do my best to hold off making any judgements and took another sip of brandy before settling back to listen to her explanation.

'As I told you before, the book is ages old and has been passed down through my family, usually from mother to daughter, but in my case from my grandmother. What I didn't tell you before is what she told me when she gave it to me. The family legend is that the book is connected to what we call 'the fairy world', connected through the three women you encountered, who are in effect the senior council of that place. There is a great deal more I could tell you about them but for now I'll just stick to the part that has directly affected you.'

She paused to take a small mouthful of brandy before she continued. 'What they told me was that down through time their male equivalents have for some reason become less potent than they once were. But what is to us a long time ago they also found that their and our species are quite capable of inter-breeding, so they realised that all they needed to do to ensure the survival of their species was from time to time to obtain a fresh supply of human semen. That's one reason why virtually all of the tales of people being taken by them tell of men or boys being the subject of their attention. The book, and its keeper - as they call us who hold it - merely has to select a target for them, a man they can 'borrow' for their purpose.'

'Even if I could believe that, how does it explain the characters who have reputedly disappeared for long periods of time?' I asked, thinking of course of the Rip Van Winkle legend.

She smiled. 'I think a few may have elected to stay longer, can you blame them?'

'So why choose me, I'm hardly what any woman would describe as a stud, and why was I returned so quickly, I was never asked if I wanted to stay any longer?'

'I made it clear you were to be returned immediately after they had got what they needed.'

'You did, why?'

She hesitated for a few moments before answering rather shyly. 'I wanted the chance of you and me getting together.'

'Did you anticipate us 'getting together', as you euphemistically put it, in quite the way we just have?'

'Well sort of, but I'll explain that. In their world sex is much more openly recognised as being a key life force; they find our civilisations' various ways of subduing or suppressing it as being very peculiar. Anyway, as a sort of reward for helping them they give the keeper and the men they borrow a greatly enhanced sense of their sexuality. As I said earlier, I don't mind admitting I've found it very difficult to deal with since my grandmother handed the book over to me.' she added.

'You mean I'm likely to go on feeling the way I did an hour or so ago for the rest of my life?' I asked somewhat aghast.

'Well I guess we'll just have to wait and see about that - but my grandmother told me she was still having a very healthy sex-life, and that was just a month or two before she actually died.' she replied with a grin.