****** The Sandman by Dr. Michael ******
===============================================================================

The Sandman


Yeah, she was that kind of girl. The kind of girl who walked through the crowd
with an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips just to see which of them would
break away from their partners to offer her a light. And they always did, all
but the most beaten of them.

They would smile the smile they practiced in the mirror. The one they found to
be charming, and the flame was lifted to lick at the tip. They would speak
words they thought impressive and she would turn and leave. She had no time for
a soft man who found himself wonderful. They rarely offered anything to others.
So she would turn and walk away, leaving them only a lingering moment of
inexpensive perfume in her breeze as she retreated. So things had gone for her.

The less creative of those she shared a species with had called her a bitch and
a tramp and a tease. Fortunately, the world was filled mostly with people who
had very little capacity for thought. The lack of originality in those who
insulted her did little to harm her. But there were others who were more
creative. Those were the ones who had the power to hurt her. She would
retaliate and things would get out of hand. She was the one who was always told
to leave, who was walked to the door and courteously excused. That she was not
behind bars was, she thought, privilege of being plaything to the wealthy.

There were those that had asked her why don't you settle down? Find a nice man
and make a nice home and have nice children and do nice things for the
community. As if she could. When you were bright enough to see that most men
were selfish, that even the nicest of homes shone evil into the night through
carefully scrubbed windows and that children were most often a burden, it was
not to hard to see that to keep moving was best.

To keep things new and fresh and alive was the way to go. She imagined herself
in the kitchen of some suburban hell. Cooking. Removing a Barney video from the
VCR and replacing it with a Disney sing along for the kids. Waiting for a
husband to come home.

She could see herself waiting for the look on his face, to know if he was
satisfied. If he was, then she could feel like a good woman, like a good wife
and mother. If she could read that he was not satisfied, then, damn it, she
would try harder tomorrow. She would make her man happy. The thought always
brought a secret smile to her face. More often, it brought a laugh. One of
those laughs that makes others look around curiously, hoping to spot the source
of the entertainment.

What would she do with a man? He couldn't run with her. Not for long, anyway.

Men got attached too easily and were more sentimental than they let on. They
found a place or a thing or another of the silly creatures she shared a species
with and decided it was time to stop running. She'd had them along before. For
a while. She found that the road threw less burdens her way when she ran with a
partner. But in the end, the burdens caught up with her. She left them with a
smear of lipstick on their sleeping cheek as she kissed them one final time.
Then she walked out on them forever. There was no need for a note. No need for
long good-byes or explanations that were even longer. It was just a sad kiss on
the cheek and a soft shutting of the door and she was on her way. It hurt
sometimes. Hurt to go. The complacity that they would fall into always made her
feel sad.

They were not like the other things she owned. She could not place them in her
backpack and force them to continue. They would find happiness in the place she
left them and she would find it where she could. And that was simply the way
things had to be.

And she's here. With her backpack on her shoulders walking along the median
again. She had been the attention of much obnoxious noise on her journey. Men
showed their appreciation for her proportions by laying into the car horn. It
was absurd. Or they would roll down the window to yell something at her. She
puzzled at the point of it. Was it to confirm their manhood to their
passengers? To herself? She was sure of only one thing, it was unnecessary. A
person's character showed in their day-to-day behavior, not an occasional
gesture of admiration or lust. Of course, this was another reason she kept
running. If she stayed somewhere long enough, someone might discover what was
behind the facade. Worse yet, they would show it to her, they would be her
mirror, and she had no desire to see it. She had no interest in looking once
again at the things she had blocked out for so long. She had no interest in
crying those tears again. So she ran to where running would take her and she
found herself here.

The structures were tall and modern, the new downtown of a very old city. The
history of its coastline and ports disguised by a wall of business and neon lit
restaurants.

She walked along the highway beside the end the earth. She looked out over the
ocean and into the west to see the sun setting. Bright gold and amber shimmered
on the surface of the waves. They carried the sparkles to the shore and
abandoned them there. The next wave came and washed them back out again. The
cycle went on and on, carrying the sparkles, leaving them on the sand to die,
and then taking them by their golden arms and dragging them back to the ocean's
unsteady dance floor to perform once again.


She left the road and opted for the softer surface. She took her shoes off and
let her toes run in the wet sand, the tumbling water working it's way up to her
calves, then receding, only to return when the next wave broke gently and
reached for her again. She walked in the golden sand and breaking waves until
sunset, toasting the last of the sparkles with an imaginary pint. As day turned
to night in the city that hid its history, the gold and amber were replaced by
the dull glow of the petroleum industry and the simple orange of street lamps.
All were reflected in the landscape before her, but none matched the majesty of
eternal fire extinguishing itself in the waters, which expanded out to the
farthest horizon.

She turned her head to observe the scene behind her. She had walked far, and
the highway could be observed in the distance. Orange streetlights burned a
crazy roller coaster on the sky as they followed the asphalt's twists and turns
and the concrete's rise and fall. She could see small rainbow like halos
surrounding each of them. She looked again to the water. The reflection in the
water showed no halos. So, the ugly lights of the city had no halos. The mirror
said so and the mirror never lies. She hated mirrors. They always dashed her
hopes.

She turned to make her way to the highway once again. Her shoes and socks
bounced in one hand as her free hand clung to the single strap of her backpack.
The sand gushed between her toes as she walked, sucking her in, then
unwillingly releasing as she moved on, repeating with every footstep. Looking
out over the unnatural reflections in the water, she felt a little sad for the
passing of the sun. It was unusual for her. She had always been one with the
night, an angel whose halo she was sure reflected on the water. But seeing the
sun this way, with it's dancing sparkles, she was unsure. It must be signaling
a change for her, but change was nothing new and she was not too afraid. It had
only been a sunset, and sunset was evening's introduction. She could handle a
thin ribbon gold in her wrappings of black. In fact she quite fancied it.
.

Nearing the highway, she noticed a new kind of sparkle. These grabbed at her
ankles, not at her calves. She looked to the west and the moon was rising where
the sun had sat. Its face was silent awe and it's silver arm reached across the
water for her. Low tide, of course. She looked behind her and judged her
footsteps. They dipped gradually away from the expanding sand. It suddenly
amazed her how man ever felt a sense of control. The moon simply rose and the
tides receded. With no divine intervention, with no prayer to let my people
pass, the tides receded and the seas were parted.


She continued to move from the roller coaster of lights that signaled
civilization. Ending up at the ocean had been a pleasant accident. She had
simply run until she ran out of asphalt. The tall buildings, which hid the
history of industry, also hid something else. Life was slower on the ocean. It
was not something you could see or hear, but something you felt. She was not a
complete stranger to the waterfront. Her parents had taken her to visit as a
child. She had vague memories of her father, in his long trunks, riding the
waves all the way to the shore. She abandoned the sand castle she had
constructed with her mother and greeted him with a shrill cry of joy. A wave of
nostalgia swept over her. The sea and the moon and the memory of her father.
She knelt into the soft sand and dragged her hands through it. She played with
it, molded its wet grittiness into a form and plopped it onto the shore. The
shape held and she made another, plopping it beside the previous one. The
construction had begun. She looked around. The beach was empty, save the little
crabs, which ran sideways in the night. The highway was still distant. She
walked to where the sand was dry and powdery, removed the backpack, placed her
shoes and socks inside, and set it back down in the softness of the earth. She
reached to the hem of her dress and tugged it over her head. She stood there in
her panties. Her breasts had, thankfully, remained small and she had no need
for a bra. They stood on her chest in the coastal breeze, silhouetted in a
flattering moonlight. She grabbed at the waistband of her panties and slid
those aside as well. Down her thighs, past her knees, over her ankles and
across her toes. She was naked on the beach in the night and she could hardly
recall feeling better. The dark nest of pubic hair would have looked like a
hole straight through her, had it not been for the brief glimpses of the
streetlights and the moon and the sunset passed that gave themselves there. Her
skin reflected the water in its paleness, and she felt like a child again. She
placed the dress and her panties into the pack, and then returned to the
construction in progress at the water's edge. She knelt in her nakedness and
continued. It was rough going, forming each section by hand. No buckets, no
shovel. She forged her way through. Rolling sand into a tube in her palms for
this, chasing down seaweed for that, searching for just the right shells to be
as eyes. When she finally conceited defeat to her urges, she stood back to
admire her handiwork.


She had to admit, the sand sculpture wasn't bad. But still, it was lacking
something. She returned once again to her backpack and unzipped it. She
withdrew from it the crown. Letting the pack fall to the ground, she stepped
again to her creation and placed the object in its proper place. Once again she
turned to observe her work from a distance. The sweat of her effort glistened
on her nude form in the moonlight as she viewed with pride what she had made.
Before her, crafted with sand and completed with objects of the ocean, was a
man. Easily seven feet tall, his arms were thick and his belly was potted. His
hair was seaweed and his seashell eyes reflected the glow of the moon.

His legs descended into the shore, and between them, standing proud, was a huge
dildo. It had been her friend for a long time and she was happy to see it
connected to someone who, while less than handsome, was of her own creation.


She turned to face the moon over the water. Its look of awe had changed to a
grin, a sly one at that. The thought of the moon looking over her nudity with
that smile on its face while her man lay sleeping behind her made her feel
sinful. She was overcome with a sense of freedom she had never felt before. She
ran straight into the sea. It's icy cold was incredible. Her nipples grew hard.
She went in to her hips, then to her breasts, then stretched her arms before
her like a sacrifice and dived into the darkness. Her face penetrated the salty
sea and she submerged herself in the ocean. The sense of weightlessness would
have taken her breath away, had she not been holding it deep in her lungs.
Holding your breath was a crazy idea. What was it worth? Only the dead would
want to buy it and they weren't buried without their wallets. But she figured
it must make sense while swimming. So she surfaced and exchanged the carbon
dioxide in her lungs for the oxygen the night sky offered and she laughed.
Waves were breaking around her neck. She watched as the night sea curled and
churned, and waited for the right one to come along. She finally spotted a wave
rolling in that looked just right for her frame, and caught it. She pushed off
with her feet from the sandbar and launched herself into its power, a little
late, but momentum catching her up. The wave took over where momentum left off,
and she surfed along its crest all the way to the shore. It left her there like
another dancing sparkle, and she scrambled up the shore on all fours before
another wave could pull her back to the dance floor again.

She fell onto the soft sand smiling. The breezes blowing over her made her wet
body tingle. She giggled remembering at the man she had made. He lay there
solemnly.

She pulled herself up into a sitting position and looked out over the moon on
the waves. Then, there was a hand on her shoulder.


She jumped with a startled cry. She was alone on the beach, she was sure of it.
She turned to face whoever had touched her and there stood her sandman before
her. The face was as she had crafted it, and the obscenely large dildo dangled
in front of her face. But it was no longer a piece of latex with pre-formed
veins. It was real. Phallic as any man. She reached out with both hands to
explore its surface better. The sandman let out a soft moan as her hands, small
in comparison to it's length and girth, wrapped themselves around it. It was
real, or unreal. She jacked slowly at the foreskin. It slid naturally, but the
surface beneath was gritty. Wet sand in cellophane, and not at all unpleasant.
It was truly a beautiful cock. Somewhere beneath the seaweed pubic hair, the
thing became sand again.

She reached for the underside of the cock to explore the balls, wondering what
she would find there. He groaned again as she touched him. She sucked in a
shallow breath of surprise. The large nuts she had carved for him hung there,
wrapped in the kelp of the sea.

She bent her head down to kiss one. With the large cock flopped across her
forehead, she licked at those giant balls. The taste of the kelp was
incredible. Fresh and natural and arousing. Was it an aphrodisiac? She decided
it should be. The sandman's rough hands were on her head, pulling at it.
Encouraging her. She was happy to oblige. Taking the shaft again in both hands,
she positioned the cock in front of her face. She ran her tongue along its
underside, savoring the salty moistness there. She swirled it around the head
of the giant sandman's cock, much to his pleasure. His hands on the back of her
head, she took him slowly. The cock was large and stretched at the corners of
her mouth. She appreciated a big man though, and the effort and concentration
the act of fellatio took with one only served to make her that much hotter. She
felt it swell in her mouth, growing large then larger. She looked up into his
seashell eyes as she took more of it in, inch by inch. Her mouth stretched and
expanded, like a snake swallowing its prey. She worked the base with both of
her hands as her head descended. He was truly huge. She finally reached the
point where it would go no further. She kept her eyes on his as she sucked her
cheeks in to form a vacuum and began to bob her head, moaning in effort and
pleasure. She could feel the thick spit in the depth of her throat as it coated
the tip of his cock, and then pulled slowly away, watching as her drool dripped
from his cock and onto her breasts. She jacked it furiously from base to tip
with both hands. The liquid spit wildly out from between her fingers as her
hands moved blindingly up and down the piston. The sandman moaned loudly, his
seashell eyes on her, watching as she pleasured him.

She was surprised by the force of his orgasm, there in the moonlight on the
beach.

He screamed as he came for her. The hot jism sprayed from the tip of his
obscenely large cock and coated her in wave after wave of the salty cum. Her
hands directed it to her face and mouth and breasts. The sandman rode upon the
waves of pleasure that ran through his body like the wave this goddess before
him rode to the shore for their rendezvous. His breath was short and hot. When
the flow finally slowed to a leak, and the cock began to lose a little of it's
hardness, she took him back into her mouth. She sucked at the remaining
contents. With her excitement level finally calming, she could taste the cum
that now coated her inside and out. She was no stranger to that taste, but the
sandman's was different. She had always encountered the overwhelming taste of
ammonia in a man's excretion, which she tolerated, but found unpleasant. It was
not so with the sandman. His semen tasted of the ocean, of saltwater and raw
fish, and the closest comparison she could draw was sushi. She loved it. She
formed a cup with her hands and drug them up from her stomach and across her
breasts, pooling the precious substance into her palms. She drank it loudly,
slurped it as she looked into those shiny eyes. It turned her on to no end to
have the sandman see her as she drank his seed. Her hands returned to her body
again and again to collect what he had deposited there. Over and over she
raised the offering to her mouth, like a thirsty explorer who had discovered a
spring, and drank it down. When she was finished and her body was clean, she
smacked her lips in satisfaction and the sandman collapsed on the beach. The
night was still young, and she had no intention of calling an end to the event.
She could see in the moonlight that his cock was growing hard again.

She knew she could take care of that. She knew exactly where to put it.

But he would have to wait. She waded into the salty, white crested waves to
dive and float and dance once more in the ocean. When she was done, she rode
the waves back to solidity.

Crawling across the shore to him, she giggled. Her youth occupied her thoughts
again. The mischievous actions of a woman were the mischievous actions of a
little girl.

Both were filled with secrets shared only with your best friend if you shared
them at all.

She looked into the eyes of her sandy lover on the beach. He lay there
reclined, his arms crossed casually behind him and his hands cradling his head.
He teased her with his cock, making it cavort upon his hips in the moonlight.
She continued her crawl towards him, but with an intentional slowness. Her
breasts dangling below her, silhouetted by the sea. Her hair was wet and tossed
and curly, her body was covered with tiny pieces of him. She covered the few
feet between them, letting her eyes wander from that magnificent cock to those
mysterious eyes and then back again, finally allowing herself to reach him.
There was a silent look of sure satisfaction on his face. She reached out and
took that dick in her hand. It went from firm flesh to steel in her grasp. He
pulled his elbows to his sides and used them support himself, his torso an
extension of the sandy soil, and he watched in expectation. Instead, she
released her grasp. He found her finding her feet, then she stood above him.
She looked down at his brow furrowed with confusion and a slight
disappointment. That was his problem. She created him from her own two hands
and she'd be damned if he had any expectations of her. She smiled at him and
circled his frame on the beach. She sat down between his splayed legs, lifting
her own legs into the air and spreading them wide to expose her womanhood for
him. The darkness that lay between her pale thighs was punctuated only by the
thin exclamation of pink that ran through the center. The black mane of pubic
hair ran high, slowly dissolving like a sunset into her hips.

She carefully extended her legs, showing him the soft flesh that resided under
her knees.

He smiled an unsure smile for her, the smile of a man unwillingly giving up
control at the prospect of pleasure. Nothing good comes without a price, she
thought, then brought her legs down violently. The walk-hardened soles of her
feet landed upon his wrists, restraining him enough for her purpose. Her toes
curled into his arms and her left hand fell to the wet sand below her and
lifted her frame to afford him a better view. She had eventual plans for the
sandman she had made and the cock she had generously donated for their
pleasure, but that would come later. Her right hand moved to the softness she
showed him. With her thumb resting on her navel, she began to rub. Her fingers
moved slowly up and down, searching for a rhythm that felt right. She felt a
tension beneath her feet. A power that wanted to touch her. A power that wanted
to touch itself. A power that was successfully restrained beneath her delicate
arches. She smiled and opened herself for its observation. She wanted him to
see the softness inside her. She wanted him to know the temple he would pray
in.

Her fingers played a bizarre rhythm across the expanse of her libido. Her body
moved to the beat of it. She strived for definition. Songs raced through her
mind as her body arched over this incredible man. She tried to find the lyrics.
She searched for the song the beat defined. It was definitely tropical.
Something about Mexico. The tingles began in her toes and told her she was on
the right track. Tequila and lime slices crossed her mind, and the tingles rose
a little further. They ran across her calves and tickled at her knees. Her eyes
were closed and the man she was sharing her pleasure with was temporarily
forgotten as she searched for the singer of her song and the band of her beat.

Her heart was pounding fast and her hand dived and surfaced between her legs,
but those places were just parts of the great machine of her mind. She was lost
in it. Marina Del Ray occurred to her, but it was in California. The pace
quickened her breath. Acapulco, Ixtapa, Matamoros, Mexico City, Puerto
Villarta, Margaritaville. Oh my god she screamed into the night. That was it.
Tattoos of Mexican ladies, tourist tanning, blenders blending. Her on the open
beach, a sandman trapped beneath her feet with a dick she was dying to fuck.

Six string guitars, it's her fault, it's her fault. Steel drums pinged through
her legs, her torso, her arms and then finally burst between her fingers in a
blinding flash of flesh in motion and exploding liquid. She dropped herself to
the sand, her feet still firmly upon his wrist, her hand still exploring. She
slipped a single digit from her left hand quickly up her ass. It intensified
the already incredible feelings that ran through her. She lay there on the
sandy shore, jacking herself. She slid a second finger into her butt as the
four fingers of her right hand pounded inside her pussy and her thumb danced on
its clitoris. She screamed again and again, praying the prayer to the god she
prayed to. Oh my god, oh yes, oh yes.

Over and over again. It was a simple prayer, but humble and thankful
nonetheless. She lay there on her back with her knees drawn high in the air and
her fingers working magic on her body. Her mind was far away. She could feel
the big one coming. The intense wave of orgasm that would carry her to the end.
Her quickened pace accelerated even further and the screams, which had turned
to whimpers, increased in volume once again. Her toes curled into little balls
at the tips of her feet and bright lights danced behind her closed eyes.

Color rushed into her cheeks and lips. Her mouth hung open slightly, telling
its tale of pleasure. Nothing is more beautiful than a woman in the grasp of
orgasm. And it hit her. It ripped through her body with tidal wave force. The
fingers that worked inside her and the images in her mind brought her crashing
into orgasm. She screamed out into the night.

Over and over again, the hot coals and ice cubes raked through her. She rode
them until they slowly faded, taking more of her breath with her as they went.
They left her there on the beach, sweating with a silly smile on her face. She
lay there, her fingers still buried inside her, her eyes still closed. She lay
there in satisfaction, in a perfect oneness that can be the result of only one
thing. Climax. She lay there feeling wonderfully fuzzy. Her mind focused
clearly on her thoughts. It never let's me down, she said to herself. No matter
how many she might have had in the past, the power of her orgasm always
fascinated and surprised her. When she opened her eyes, the night sky filled
her vision. Diamonds on black velvet. The ocean churned its power somewhere
behind her head. She became sure at this point that nature was a woman. Had to
be.

She pulled herself up and crawled into his arms. He welcomed her there,
cradling her in his arms on the beach. Her head lay on his broad expanse of
chest. Tears rolled gently from her eyes. Not from sadness or joy, but a simple
reaction to the brutal onslaught of the emotion of her climax. She sniffled a
little and rearranged her body to comfort, then smiled herself to sleep.

Sleep came quickly to her and with it came dream. Not the dream that changes
and morphs itself in the early morning hours when one is close to waking, but
the dream of true exhaustion and clarity. She found herself moving again on the
path to the unknown. But the way was not asphalt, nor was it sand. It was
softly spoken on the forest floor, littered with pine cones and green needles
and leaves that lay there brown and dying. She could see herself as she moved.
Her backpack clung tightly to her as she bounced and skipped. Her cotton dress,
so white and virgin in it's past, now shown red.

The sky above her peeked blue through the trees that fought to reach the yellow
gold sun.

She dreamed in color of the forest that swallowed her. Dark shadows loomed
along a path that bent in on her. The path narrowed and the ceiling shrank
slowly down on her.

Darkness began to encroach. The foliage forced her to hand and knee, and she
crawled.

She crawled through forest with the deadness below grabbing at her palms and
the treetops above snatching at her back. Ahead, light appeared. A welcome
sight in her tunnel. She crawled faster, ignoring the hands of the earth and
the sky she moved towards salvation. When she reached the clearing, golden
sunlight greeted her cheeks and a narrow river ran before her. She moved
gratefully from darkness to sunlight. She ran from the trees to the water and
fell again to her knees. Blue nectar flew past her and sang as it went.

She dipped her hands into its wetness. Drops of it fell from her fingers and
forearms and she rolled on her back to catch them in her mouth.


"Who's that playing in our water?" said a male voice somewhere.

She jumped to her knees, startled.

"I don't know," replied a female voice.

She looked around for the source of the voices, but found only the rough bark
of the trees and the dying leaves below her.

"Shhh! We don't want to bother her," said the female voice.

"Oh hush now," said the male voice "She is surely lost." She was not fond of
being watched and she hollered to the forest around her "Who are you?"
But there was no answer and the sounds of nature surrounded her once again. The
birds began their songs, the gentle rustle of animals shuffling on the forest
floor continued, and finally the river talked to her. She reveled in its song
and after a moment of listening to it, she dipped her hands in again.

"We should help her," said the male voice again as her hands penetrated the
softness of the water.

"Oh! Behave. We could only frighten her in this state. Just leave her be!"

She jerked her head around again, searching the woods for the signs of life
that talked behind her back. The trees and weeds and pine cones looked back at
her, dumb and lifeless.

"Who is it?" she screamed into the green and blue around her.

"Oh my. We're starting to scare her now. Maybe you're right. She could use a
hand."

"But we could only frighten her in this state," he jeered.

"Come on," she said as she pushed him into the clearing.

She turned from the stream with a startled cry. And faces filled the voices she
began to believe she was imagining. There before her was a middle aged man
standing in the woods. He was naked and proud in the woods and she felt no
shame in his presence.

She had seen people naked before who did not plan on being spotted inside their
exposed innocence. That was the look he had. But she could never before confess
to seeing a middle aged man in the woods like this. He stood there on the dying
forest floor with pale skin and primitive hair. His legs were long and his
toenails uneven. His head was emerged in the bite of the wolf, it's back legs
wrapped around his waist, it's front legs grabbed at his neck lifelessly.

Then the woman emerged. She faced her in unsurprised expectancy. Half of her
expecting it, the other half realizing that things unexpected are worth
embracing. If you grasp onto the unexpected, it will show you what you need.
The woman was naked as well, her child worn breast hid behind the skin of a
wolf that once wandered the earth she now walked.

They looked at her with silent curiosity. She stood there with everything
living and dying all around her and looked back at them.


"Who are you?" she finally asked.


They were silent, unsure of what to say. They stood there in the forest with
dumb looking faces and no words to say.


"Why are you dressed that way?" the girl on the bed of leaves asked them.

"We're playing." said the woman.

"What is your game?" she replied.

"We are wolves," said the man. "And we chase each other through the forest."

The woman giggled.

"But you aren't wolves. You're just pretending."


"Pretending?" asked the woman.

"We are not pretending." Said the man. "We are wolves."


The girl giggled as they managed to disguise only a little of their nakedness
before her. He slipped his hands into the paws and swiped at her.

"How rude!"

"I'll show you rude." said the she-wolf, and tackled her to the ground.

She wrestled with the woman in the dying things below her. They rolled on the
mass of brown until she was on top, pinning the woman in the wolf skin below
her. She did not take the attack lightly, and fighting to keep her sanity and
her life, she pinned the she-wolf's shoulders beneath her.

"No fair!" she heard the man cry behind her. She looked round to him and found
the bashing of the paw that before had only threatened.

"Bitch!" said the woman as the girl was thrown from her roost. And then they
were upon her.

"Hold her down," the she-wolf said as they struggled in the forest.

The man grappled above her and beside her and, finally, he was on top of her.

The lady in wolf's skin shrieked in the lonely forest and grabbed at her ankles
as the man she called a partner hovered above the girl with too many miles
behind her. She screamed into the forest once and they both laughed. The man in
the wolf skin above her looked down, saw her fear, and howled in mockery of her
screaming.

"Ahh ooooh!" he cried into the woods.

Again and again, she cried out and he mocked her, till she realized that her
cries were unheard outside of present company. The she-wolf released the grip
on her ankles. She circled her and squatted down over her face. Rolling her
eyes back in her head, she could see the fine blonde pubic hair of the woman
who called her self wolf, see the breasts and the sharply pointed nipples that
dangled above her. She had not realized in her and surprise that she had wept,
and gentle tears settled on her cheeks as she grew still. The she-wolf seemed
concerned as she looked at her, inspecting her face. The woman in the wolves
clothing reached out to touch those tears, and as she did, the running girl
jerked her head violently to the side, burying the better part of her face in
the dying things of the forest floor.


"Look at that," said the she-wolf. "The poor thing is frightful."

The man just growled. "Get off of her." The wolf man looked at her, and
whimpered sadly.

She eyed him down and he slowly slid off to the side.

"Now," she said to the freed captive. "Have we frightened you?"

She nodded her head, sniffling. She hated her behavior. Hated letting someone
see her tears.

"Serves her right," said the man-wolf. He was sitting on the ground beside her,
stroking his tail between his hands, disappointed at the games end.

"Yes it does," replied the she-wolf.

She pulled the running one into an upright position, so that she was sitting
cross-legged on the leaves. She put an arm around the girl, who cursed herself
for her shivering. She looked down and she could see the paw dangling around
her shoulder and the hand beneath. The tips of the nails were carefully painted
red, like blood or a fire truck or a candy apple or passion. The hand settled
on her breast and sat there, casually at first.

She looked into the eyes of the she-wolf and saw much mischievousness there.
The hand began to massage her small breast, and the she-wolf continued.

"Well, we did not mean to frighten you. But you have come into our game. We are
the lords of this wood, and the lords of the woods always take what they want.
And we want you."

With this, she threw both of her fur-clad arms around the thoroughly confused
girl and hugged her tight. The comfort was only momentary, as in one swift
movement; she placed both hands in the neck of the red dress and ripped it down
the middle. With the slow response of shock, she reached to fend off the woman,
but it was too late. The dress was caught around her waist, exposing her
breasts and successfully restraining her arms. The man howled out again and
jumped up from his seat. He danced around her and the she-wolf laughed and evil
laugh. Then he reached down and grabbed her by her midriff. He jerked her up
forcefully and rotated her so she was facing the ground. He dropped her, and
she instinctively pulled her knees before her to break her fall. She pulled at
her arms in the instant of the fall, but they were restrained to her sides by
the red dress. So she fell on her knees and looked to the canopy above. The
she-wolf forced her head to the forest floor with both hands. The man-wolf
pulled her dress up over her hips and jerked her panties down. She could feel
them in that soft spot inside her knees. His hand fumbled clumsily inside her
thighs as he worked to find access to her sex. She cried out into the forest as
he hit home. His fingers were large and rough and crude as they entered her.
The she-wolf grabbed her chin from the leaves and the dirt and jerked it up,
level with the blonde nest of pubic growth. She pushed her hips forward as she
pulled the girls head toward her, rotating her sex there on her chin till the
girl understood. She stuck out her tongue, cautiously at first, and then
exploring as the wolf woman's sighs became more excited.

She could feel it through her tongue, the heat of her sex as it slowly
expanded, the growth of her clitoris as it came out to greet her. All the while
the man-wolf crudely worked her nether regions. He would spank without warning
and without rhythm her soft white bottom. In her mind, she could see it jiggle
beneath his hand, slowly reddening with the force of the unexpected blows. He
now had three fingers buried inside her, as she tasted the delicate womanhood
of the she-wolf.

The forest was filled with moans and sighs and cries of fear and passion and
release. The hips of the she-wolf moved in steady rhythms before her while the
hands of the man-wolf invaded her without rhythm. With three fingers inside
her, his thumb moved and began to massage the tender little opening of her
anus. She was fearful then. She had seen his cock and it was huge, dangling
there between his thighs. What if it were hard? What if he intended to put it
in there?


Her fear must have distracted her. The she-wolf dug her nails into the scalp of
their plaything and pulled her tongue more deeply into the soft blonde bush.
She took the hint, and continued with her oral ministrations. The she-wolf was
nearing climax, and the captive girl ate faster and faster, rolling her tongue
like a barrel abound the hardened clit of her mistress. She would occasionally
reach forward with her tongue and touch the pink rim of the she wolves
entrance, only to return to the clitoris. She split her time equally between
sucking this strange woman's sweet clit between her lips, circling it with her
tongue, and forcing her tongue to the entrance of the pink tunnel. She craved
to touch it, to rub her off so that she could see this woman come for her, but
her arms were held tight by the red dress and she could feel no such justice
for her actions. The she-wolf cried into the trees around them. The wings of
birds sounded like heartbeats as the trees above them came alive by the command
of orgasm. The birds shrieked above them and the leaves fell to meet them, this
threesome on the forest floor. As the woman-wolf cried out, the man-wolf
replaced his fingers with his cock, and she knew she was right. It was large,
even in a state of non-arousal, but now it was huge. She could feel it as eased
into her, stretching the walls of her womaness. It was thick. And it was long.
As it slowly penetrated her, she wondered if it's length would subside. She
felt him painfully against her deepest parts, and she screamed as he began to
fuck her. His dick moved inside of her, the in and out motion she was so
accustomed to, but with a size that she was not. She pleaded with them for the
first time.

"Please!" she screamed. "It's too big! It hurts so bad!"

"Too big?" the she-wolf said. "Perhaps you would prefer it if he fucked you in
your ass!"

The two wolf people looked at each other and smiled. The she-wolf turned so her
back was to the girl, laid down, and slid to a station beneath her. She
positioned herself with her head just behind the plaything's sex. She grabbed
the young girl's head between her thighs and pulled it down to her own
womanhood. She could feel the woman's chin as she raised her head and sucked on
the cock of the he wolf. Then she took the cock from her mouth and stroked it
gently. She placed a hand on each of the girl's fresh white cheeks, raised her
face between them and tasted at the youthful sweetness of her asshole. Her legs
pulled at her, encouraging her to taste of the pinkness that lay buried in her
own coverings of blonde.

The young girl cried with pleasure and despair, the prisoner of two wolf people
in the forest. She could feel as the tongue explored the soft wrinkles and fine
hair just on the outside of her anus. She buried her own tongue in the soft
flesh of the she-wolf's pussy, now in position for her tongue to cover it
fully. She felt her sphincter ring tighten to ward off the invader, but the
tongue was to slick and agile, and it found it's way inside. It tasted at the
hot stickiness in her asshole. The woman's arms grasped at her hips, pulling
them hard toward her, the tongue probing for maximum penetration into her ass.
She was disgusted, intrigued and in a state of forced arousal as this she-wolf
ate at her dirtiest parts. And she dined on the she-wolf herself. It was
terrible and wonderful and inexplicable. The lips of the she-wolf were large
and fleshy, gladly giving themselves this way and that with the merest flick of
her tongue. Her opening was visible between the softness of those large lips,
and she lapped at it as she had lapped at the pool upon entering this strange
and mysterious forest. The she-wolf added her fingers to the mix, alternating
between her tongue and her digits in her ass, first her tongue and a finger,
then her tongue and two fingers. And then three fingers into the soft and horny
backside of the girl who had run too long. She fucked the tiny ass with three
fingers as the girl ate at the sweetness of herself and then cried to the man-
wolf to do it, to fuck her in the ass. She could feel as the wolf man's hard on
was set in place behind her. She could feel as he slowly moved forward. The
girl tried to follow the movements, moving forward herself, but the she-wolf
pulled at her thighs and slowly, she felt the cock slide inside a hole she was
sure was not designed for its size.

"Please!" she screamed.

But the penetration slowly continued. As the large cock made it's way inside
her, she could feel to herself how it must feel to him. Hot, sticky, and tight.
Red and inflamed.

It was not so much the part that had past through that hurt. It was all that
was still coming, all that stretched at her sphincter and continued forward.
She was about to cry out when she felt a new sensation. One that created
pleasure where pleasure was not and where pleasure should not be. She felt the
tongue of the wolf woman as it danced on her clit. She thought of the view the
position commanded. Looking up over her pink girl stuff to the sight of her
man's cock sliding into a most delicate and aching ass. Seeing it from that
point of view did something. It blurred the line between pain and pleasure more
than any attention to her cunt could have. The vision, the removal of herself
in her mind to the point of observer, to see how good it looked, this man and
this woman in wolf's clothing destroying this young girl in the woods. The
man's cock was moving slowly inside her cavity, opening her up. He began to
move faster and faster as the she-wolf's tongue danced upon her clit and her
swollen lips. She buried her face between the thighs of the she-wolf and dined
upon the softness. The forest filled with grunts and cries. She came first, so
much attention to her body. She could feel as the quakes raked through her it.

Her sex began to open and explode. She felt the hot liquid pour down over the
face of the she woman. The man-wolf reached down and rubbed at the liquid that
sprang from her. He touched his wolf mates face and rubbed it deep into the
pores. He must have felt the contractions inside her ass. She could feel his
cock start to twitch deep within her asshole. She was afraid that he might stay
there and spill his wolf seed deep inside her. But at the first sound of
orgasm, the she-wolf yanked his cock from her ass and positioned above her
lips, lips still coated with the girls shiny cum. She could feel as her
expanded asshole gaped in the forest. Her head collapsed to its floor, feeling
the cool leaves there. She gasped in the finality of orgasm. Her cheeks flush,
her mouth open and wide, sucking in air as her backside gaped and breathed just
the same. She could hear the sounds of release behind her. The she-wolf had
placed her wolf paw covered hand where the girl's mouth had once been. She
frigged herself furiously as she jacked her wolf man's cock with the other,
begging for his cum. And his cum came as her cum came. His cum splashed on her
greedy open asshole, some of it dripping inside her, but most falling under her
to the she-wolf's mouth who awaited it. Her cum splashed between her fingers
and onto the young girl's face and the dying jungle below. There was a moment
of silent stillness, and a synchronous collapse into the leaves. She landed
with the she-wolf's thigh in her grasp, and she kissed it gratefully. She could
hear the man behind her, mouthing words she did not understand. The three lay
there in the leaves, in the dying pine needles, under the canopy in the trees
above. They laid without moving. Without speaking, contemplating the sex,
reverberating the orgasm. The young girl was the first to stir. She looked at
the she-wolf and saw there was a beauty there she had not noticed before. She
looked at the man-wolf laying. There was an intelligence in his eyes. Like a
teacher or a profit. She wanted to know them now, her fear evaporated in
pleasure. She rose to kiss the she-wolf, but the man held her back. He pushed
her onto the balls of her feet as he stood himself. He dragged his woman till
she was standing, and then they turned, and ran into the woods.

She wanted to follow, wanted a wolf skin of her own to run free with these
creatures of lust. But the forest path was not the concrete she ran by. So she
turned. She closed her eyes to block the tears that were forming there, and
when she opened them, she awoke to the sandman on the beach.

The dream had left her nipples hard and her sex wet. She could feel the
grittiness of the man of her creation underneath her pert breasts. The
slightest movement on his rough body sent shivers through her hard little
nipples. She looked up and saw him sleeping soundly. His lips were twisted into
a satisfied smile and she wondered if he dreamed as erotically as she had. She
looked away from his face and towards that magnificent cock. It was hard again
in the moonlight, a little smile all it's own, extending from his hips in an
arc. Beyond his sandy form lay the churning ocean. The tide had gone out in her
dreamtime and the little crabs that ran sideways in the night plucked in the
sand at what the sea had left behind. Little holes opened and closed in the
sand as tiny clams, abandoned on the exposed sand by the waves, breathed in the
earth before them and exhaled it behind them. Digging themselves deeper into
the still wet sand, creating a new home. There were a million things to see and
hear and smell on the beach, and she wanted to experience them all. But her
dream had been strong and her desire overwhelmed any other wants or needs she
thought she had. She heard a soft moan behind her as the sandman woke. She felt
a softness in her hand. Without any conscience thought, she had taken the shaft
of the sandman into her palm and was jacking it slowly. He looked down on her
with desire and satisfaction as her hand played slowly on his manhood. She
moved her head down and licked at the smooth and slippery underside of the
cock. Now as before, the texture fed her desire. She could feel the surface
beneath the slippery foreskin, gritty and warm with desire. Her tongue
continued its exploration, moving to the balls that had formed. She tasted
again at the salty kelp that wrapped the enormous balls there. She moved
herself between his legs, positioning herself better to access his cock. The
last blow-job had been frantic and passionate and explosive. It had been the
single most enjoyable act of fellatio she could recall. But she wanted this one
to last. Even with the little nipples on her breasts hard and teased by the
sand, even with the ocean breezes teasing the gaping lips of her hot pubis.

She would slowly and steadily build both their desires to a breaking point with
her mouth on his beautiful dick. Now, between his legs, she continued to lick
at his balls, Her hand moved onto the shaft and jacked it, gently and slowly so
as not to bring him to orgasm too soon. She worked her lips around one of his
incredibly large balls, thankful for it's own natural slickness to ease the
process as it slip into her mouth. It happened slowly, but the kelp covered
teste was into her mouth by some magic and the sand man groaned with passion.

His hands moved to her head, stroking her dark hair gently and encouraging her.
His large ball filled her mouth completely. It pressed against the back of her
throat and the roof of her mouth. She barely had room to manipulate her tongue
around its surface. But she circled its bottom and managed to massage it around
the sides of her mouth and the pinkness of her tongue. She sucked deep at it,
pulling it impossibly further into her mouth. His fingers were twirling her
hair into ringlets and pushing her into his hips in passion. She worked at her
jaw and managed to open it enough so that his testicle slowly extruded itself,
still sucking at it the whole time. It exited her mouth with a soft sighing
sound before settling there on the inside of his thigh. She could see it shine
there in the moonlight, it's own moisture mingled with her thick saliva. The
girl looked up to glimpse into the eyes of the sandman on the beach. She could
see the pearly glow as he looked down on her with strained satisfaction. His
expression told her what he wanted, but he could see the same expression in her
own face, as if a mirror. So he resided himself to the teasing pleasure of her
tongue, mouth, lips, and throat. Her hand continued to jack him with slow,
evenly spaced strokes. Her jaws and tongue were numb from the attention they
had given, but she moved to the other testicle, which hung just behind it to
the side. She used her free hand to pull it slowly forward. She lowered her
head again and repeated the performance she had given just moments ago. The
sandman's cock had grown increasingly harder and longer and thicker in her
hand. When her ministrations began, her hand wrapped easily around it's
circumference. But as his pleasure increased, it her grip became less and less.
Her thumb no longer wrapped around to meet her forefinger. But she continued
her slow steady rhythm her mouth performed on him. As she let his sex fall free
from her mouth, she set her tongue between his balls, slowly and teasingly
moving up. All the while, she darted the little pink tip up and down and side
to side across the surface of his magnificent manhood. His hips wiggled in
pleasure below her as she kneeled there between his legs.

Her tongue went up the underside smooth shaft and licked at the rim just below
the head of his cock. There, on the beach in the moonlight, with waves crashing
behind her and the voyeuristic moon overhead looking on, she swirled her tongue
around the head of the sandman's cock. Then she slowly opened her mouth and
took the tip inside. His hands, which had settled onto the back of her head as
she teased, now regained their former urgency, tugging gently down on the
locks. She ignored the hasteful tugging and took him into her mouth in her own
slow and teasing time. Her hand moved to the base of his cock, holding in its
hardness and cutting off any orgasm he might have prematurely. She worked him
slowly and with intent, to keep his seed from spilling before he was inside
her. Her mouth made its way down the shaft. It was grotesque in its size and
pulled at her lips as she descended its length. She wanted nothing more than to
feel him deep in her throat.

His entire manhood inside her as her nose was tickled by the seaweed of his
pubic hair, which still seemed very far below her. She kept the base clipped
off tightly with her hand.

She was amazed at his ability to withhold his orgasm. She felt as the cock
touched at the back of her throat. She worked her mind and the muscles there to
overcome the gag reflex, and was able to continue. If her mouth was a tight fit
for his cock, her throat was a vice. She could feel as it pushed and stretched
at the muscles there. She had to slow and concentrate to keep from gagging as
she continued. His urgent tugging at her dark hair continued, but she was able
to withstand and keep her own slow pace. She had only inches to go. The sand
man cried illegibles into the night as he felt his shaft wrapped in the tight
muscles of her throat. It took the whole of his concentration to keep his hips
from bucking wildly below her face. She continued on with her goal in sight.
The nest of seaweed lay just below her now. She risked a quick lunge, which
took the sandman by surprise. His hips buckled, driving his cock completely
inside her. She could feel her nose in the seaweed and her own fingers grasping
the base below her lips. She stayed there for a moment, savoring the victory.
But his cock was twitching inside her, so she quickly raised her head, feeling
the odd sensation as the shaft evacuated her throat, leaving an emptiness there
she had never felt. She kept her hand gripped tight to cut off the orgasm.
Finally, she felt the shaft in her mouth. She drew back and sat kneeling in the
sand between his thighs. A long strand of thick spit made a path out of her
mouth, down her belly, and past her pubic hair.

It fell to the sand and then continued to his cock, which shimmered in the
moonlight. But his hips were still twitching and he began to moan. She placed
her other hand with the one already at the base of his cock. She squeezed
tightly as the sandman came, effectively cutting of the flow of his cum so that
she could savor the feeling of it inside of her later.

She continued grasping at the cock until his bucking hips and his cries
subsided. When she felt it was safe, she removed her hands. Only a tiny amount
of semen had managed to escape and it dribbled out of the hole in his cock. And
the shaft had not lost any of its hardness. He smiled at her in the night, and
she smiled back, lowering herself to taste the wonderful cum which leaked down
his hard shaft. She kept her eyes on his as she licked from bottom to top.
Savoring the flavor of it and making sure she had cleaned his shaft thoroughly.

They rested there on the beach for a little while. She lay with her head on his
chest, watching as his hard organ twitched there just below her. The desire
between her legs, forgotten momentarily in the concentration of fellatio,
returned in a surge as she looked at his magnificent cock. She pulled herself
to her feet placed a foot on either side of his frame. She fell to her knees,
straddling his waist between her thighs. Moving slowly backward, she positioned
her hungry sex against his vertical member and slowly slid along the backside
of its length. They both gasped in surprise at the heat of the other as their
sexes rubbed together. He reached up for her and his rough hands pulled and
twisted at her breasts, sliding them through the palms and then pinching at the
nipples with his fingers. She whimpered softly as he performed the act over and
over, a hand on each of her tits. She continued to move her hips up and down
the surface of his cock. She could feel her juices flow and she began to tremor
slowly as a small but powerful orgasm shot through her. Her sex leaked onto his
and he moved his hands from her breasts to her waists, positioning the hungry
mouth of her soft womanhood over his shaft. She fell back onto it with a
scream. The pleasure was overwhelming as he entered her. His cock slid past the
point that any man had ever been, and she cried out into the night as he filled
her aching cunt. He moaned below her, watching as her body flushed with sex.
Her hips began that rhythmic movement in the night. The wind blew through her
hair and her head was tilted. The pleasure she felt could be read completely on
her face. Her mouth opening and closing, forming silent words of lust. Her
cheeks filled with red, her eyes closed in concentration and pleasure. She rode
the sandman with a savage fury, her hips pumping wildly as her silent words of
lust found a voice and she screamed and moaned into the night. She was fucking
him there on the beach. She could see the silhouette in her mind as she worked.
They're frames in darkness with the moon high above and the water behind them.
The roller coaster of highway lights far in the distance.

She was overcome with a larger orgasm. She could feel it hitting her as she
speeded up the motion and rode him harder and faster. Suddenly, the movement of
her hips went from wild abandon to hard, fierce strokes. She moaned loudly into
the night as she pounded her sex against his hips. She could feel the roughness
of his sandy belly as it scraped against her clit and her pubic mound.
Shockwaves of pleasure rushed through her body, sparing no part of her. Her
mind, her body, her organs, her skeleton, her soul, her entire being shook with
the pure joy of it all and she lost herself somewhere else, somewhere in a
cosmos of satisfaction. Her hips picked up a quick rhythm again, undulating
circles in the night air as she prepared herself for another orgasm. She loved
this part. The abandon of wild sex.

To forget the thoughts of someone else's pleasure and concentrate on your own.
Her consciousness swam in that cosmos of satisfaction as her body stayed behind
and pumped at the thickness, which pistoned in her sex. She continued to climb
on those waves of pleasure, seeing colors and shapes behind the lids of her
closed eyes. She could not hear her cries or the moans of the sandman in the
night, could not feel his hands as they tugged at her breasts and pinched at
her nipples. Could not even feel his cock inside her. She just felt pleasure.
The parts combined and created the whole of her ecstasy. Someone had once told
her that the Japanese word for orgasm translated into "little death". She
understood completely. At sometime, she felt herself receding. Coming back to
her body. The earth became a physical thing again. She could feel the grains of
sand that she gripped tightly between her fingers, feel the beach between her
legs, feel the cool ocean breeze as it blew on her sweat covered body. She
could hear the ocean tide behind her and gulls singing above. She opened her
eyes, and looked down at the face of the sandman. But he was gone. All of him.
The sand, which had formed his body, the shells, which shone as eyes, the
seaweed and kelp, which decorated his manhood, had all, rejoined their kin on
the sandy floor below her. She searched the haphazard piles of sand, which she
kneeled in for evidence of his existence, but all were objects of the ocean
found on any beach. She reached below her and felt something soft there. She
withdrew the cock from inside her, hoping to find it to be real. But it was the
same veined latex she had crowned her sandman's hips with hours before. He was
gone. It was poetic justice, her stubborn mind finally admitted. All the men
she had left silently in the night. And this one, the one she wanted to hold
onto, had left her. Escaped from between her own legs and disappeared into the
night, using her own pleasure as a distraction for his exit. She felt a small
bit of fury, but she knew when it was time to go and she guessed he must have
too. The sun was just starting to rise, and the facade of the city was
beginning to appear. She rose and wiped the sand from her body. She walked to
where the water touched the land and cleaned herself in it's chill. On a whim,
she ran back to where she had left the dildo in the sand, grabbed it by its
base, turned, and tossed it into the ocean. She watched as it tumbled end over
end in the growing daylight. The waves opened up and let it in, and it landed
with a splash. She hoped that he would find it again, and that they would find
each other.

She turned with a sigh and walked back to where she had stored her things on
the beach in the night. She left the shoes and socks in the pack, but took out
her panties.

She began to lean over and step into them, and on second thought, went without
them.

She pulled the dress over her head and onto her body and began her way back to
the highway. She looked once again at the pile of sand where she had loved, and
tears began to flow silently down her face. The rising sun made them sparkle on
her cheeks. She dragged her forearm under her nose and sniffed once. She hated
to cry. She pulled in a deep breath of determination and turned again towards
the roller coaster of asphalt. He was out there somewhere. If she just kept
running, she would find him. As she walked, she looked to the east, and the
rising sun shone in thin bands through the tall buildings of downtown. She
smiled. She could handle a ribbon of gold in her wrappings of black. In fact,
she quite fancied it.


If you enjoyed this story, or have any comments you would like to convey,
please let me know. You can write to me at dr_michael_s@yahoo.com. I look
forward to hearing from you.

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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