Approaching Storm; or Jake’s Tales 2
by Pluto Knee Em
Part 4
Brandi had questions on the drive back from Amelia’s. I had plenty of my own, too, and no easy way to get answers.
Heading east past sandy fields and produce stands, she turned on the radio and channel-flipped, and it seemed that every other station was talking about Hurricane Irene. It had strengthened into a Category 2, and was staying true to a line that could bring it right to the Outer Banks.
She turned off the radio, her sands all agitated like a storm surge had already washed over them. “That thing is coming,” she said.
“Sure sounds like it.”
“Should I be worried about what happened back at the house? Amelia said it was like oil and water—your gifts are different and they mixed all weird, that’s all. But it doesn’t sound right. You were fine together at the beginning, so what happened?”
“I really don’t know, Brandi.”
“Did you touch her or did she touch you?”
“I touched her.”
“I warned you not to!”
“I know, and I didn’t forget. Something pulled me into doing it. Don’t ask me to explain because I can’t. It was like I didn’t have a choice.”
“That can’t be true. We always have a choice.”
Behind the cover of my sunglasses, I took in the twin forms of her seatbelt-separated tits again, and wondered if all that outward thrust was anatomical or bra-natomical. The only reason my eyes could stray from her chest was that her legs might be even better. Even the woman’s skin was exceptional, all smooth and tanned just right. I thought she looked like one completely toned fuck-muscle, whose main purpose was to flex for sex, and flex for sex, and keep flexing for sex.
In other words, like hell we always have a choice.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Really good. Seriously, I feel great. Whatever it was that made me dizzy, I’m fine now.”
“That’s probably the healing session. Amelia told me she put you on her table and sent healing energy into your system.”
It was an effort to keep from laughing. That’s what Amelia told her, that we used our time in private so she could heal me before I left? That was a healing session the way a Chinese escort’s “therapeutic massage” is a real massage.
I kept thinking about what happened back there, trying to understand its significance. Amelia knew what I was, or at least some of what I could do—she’d said that I was inside Brandi, like she could see or sense the influences I’d already perpetrated. But she hadn’t warned Brandi or tried to undo any of it as far as I could tell. She’d gone into some sort of fuck-trance instead, rebooting her dormant or repressed sexuality with such potency that I’d creamed twice.
Why had I touched her? And when I did, what the hell happened? Did our gifts, similar but not the same, make us like Brandi had described, two electric eels shocking each other when we connected? But then she’d sucked me off and fucked me like her pussy was turbocharged, and the contact had been fine, or more than fine. And she wanted more Jake sex in the future, and either believed or predicted she’d get more.
I wondered, too, what she’d been trying to communicate when she said all that stuff I couldn’t understand. Advanced waves and bright spirals, changed fabric, multiple scales of energy and some sort of inescapable something or other...
It didn’t disturb me that things happened around me that I sometimes couldn’t understand, with weirdness clinging to me like summer sweat. I was changed by space aliens, for chrissakes, so almost anything was within the realm of possibility. And I trusted my strange talents—I’d never worried that the powers would fade, or were in some way booby-trapped. I’d gotten the distinct sense from “them”, the otherworldly things, that they’d given me a gift in return for helping them out. It was a bargain, perhaps, but there had been no sulfurous odor of Faustian blowback.
Of course, that could be the nature of Faustian blowback—no one ever saw it coming because it didn’t smell like sulphur. It smelled like spring flowers rubbed all over a kitten’s fur, or three beautiful housemates rubbed all over Jake’s dick.
Plus one more, because contact with the three women had brought Amelia into the picture. I closed my eyes and brought her image back to mind, in those few seconds when she stood nearly naked in front of me. She was some real butter-filled eye candy, and if her words were to be believed, that was the first time she’d had sex in five years. Five fucking years of abstinence, with a body like that and the ability to super-suck and power-hump like she competed in the Cummer Olympics. Maybe she should be supremely confident that I’d return, because she was like a precious resource, or a force of nature that it would be a crime to neglect.
The car’s tires made a new sound as we moved from the highway to the long bridge across the Albemarle Sound, and I opened my eyes. Tuning in to my driver’s insides, I saw how she was still obsessed with having me assist with her dream therapy. Contrasting with that, she was filled with worry that Amelia’s gifts and mine might be incompatible. She was also upset that she’d hadn’t remembered any dreams the past couple of nights. She kept waking up horny, which was keeping her out of REM sleep. I’d already noted how she chose intense workouts over masturbation, but she was thinking of making an exception, just to release the energy so she could sleep.
Forget masturbation for this sweet young thing; she was going to cum with me inside her, and her dreams were and always had been the highway that led inside those shorts. I’d been steering things in the direction of a pretend hypnotism session, hoping to stir up attraction for me through dream images that would convince her to go to bed with me; now, because of what had happened at Amelia’s, it made more sense to just go ahead and blast hot dreams into her—if I could.
I’d tried to influence Pascaline’s dreams while she slept, and had found the unconscious mind too remote, or curtained off. It hardly seemed possible to pre-program a special kind of dream state or a particular dream-narrative; then again, Brandi wanted important dreams the way a flying saucer wants deserted Navajo airspace, and her desire was exactly the sort of clay I should be able to mold.
And not just important dreams—she desired transformative dreams, whatever that meant to her. I pleaded fatigue and shut my eyes, and began the process of aiming shitloads of sex dream vibes into her system. I thought of her sleeping soundly in the night, and how she’d dream a dream of pleasing Jake with her hot little workout body, and just how insanely ravenous it made her pussy feel whenever she dreamed of being a perfect, insatiable fuck-toy for Jake.
Never having done this before, I had to peek every now and then to make sure she wasn’t dozing off at the wheel, sending us against a guardrail or into a ditch. All was well on the surface so I kept pouring it on. She would go to sleep that night as Brandi, the woman who knows she’s sexy as get-all but holds something back. She would wake up as Brandi the Piece of Transformed Fuck Candy, needing to jump all over Jake’s dick and envelop it like pop on a sicle. Let that be her transformation.
“I wish I didn’t have to work so late!” she said out of nowhere, and it startled me awake. Apparently I’d been the one to nod off, snapping alert with my cock throbbing like I had morning wood.
I shifted in my seat and said, “You can’t switch your hours around?”
“I’m just venting. Ignore me when I talk like that.”
Only it was more than venting—what she meant was that she wished she could go to bed earlier tonight to dream sooner, a very good sign.
We were on the beach road now, the cottage only minutes away. Because affecting dreams was such unknown territory, I felt the need to keep messing with Brandi, tying her nighttime world into the need to fuck me. I gathered all the elements I could think of into one big desire ball—she was unusually horny these days, so she should dream about sex. And dreaming about sex meant she needed it for real, as soon as possible. Only she was picky, and only wanted sex with an exceptional person. Amelia considered me an exceptional person; she approved of me and Brandi should, too. And if she needed a sign, some form of guidance from the dream world to appear and signal the way, then dreaming of fucking my cock raw was that sign, and she’d be a fool to disobey the directions given to her from her own subconscious mind. In fact, she should dream about fucking me with both of her housemates involved. And dreaming of that, she should do what the dream world told her to do, turning her dreams into reality.
Make your dreams come true, I kept repeating. Dream the sex and make it all come true.
I stared at Brandi’s body and infused it with those thoughts, inside and out. She knew how hot she looked—part of her determination to work out so diligently came from that, from the pleasure of being admired for her sculpted physique. I drew those desires into the stew as well—Jake loved her smokin’ body and showing it to Jake was just more fuel for all the rest. There was no better foreplay than making Jake horny with her fit, vibrant body; the only thing hotter than that was dreaming of fucking Jake; there was nothing hotter than that except making those dripping wet dreams cum true.
I had some experience with how quickly or forcefully things took hold in a woman; it had something to do with the degree of innate desire in a particular direction, and how effectively I fanned the flames. What I had just done should appear like a quiet urge in Brandi’s body and emotions, and like a little whisper in her head. That’s why it surprised me when I saw her hands tightening on the steering wheel, accompanied by several furtive glances at my lap.
Her voice was tight when she said, “I bought a new bikini the other day. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t even had a chance to wear it to the beach.”
“Oh? What color is it?”
“Red and blue, in a striped pattern. In the store when I bought it... I looked pretty good.”
“I’ll bet you did.”
She didn’t gasp audibly, but I could feel the compliment reverberate inside her. Another desire with the potential to grab and stir, and I did. My voice, saying admiring things about her looks, was hot as hell, and made her need to fuck me all the more. It gave her pleasure to hear me compliment her looks, and having sex with me would have me gushing about how beautiful she was.
“I think I’ll go for a swim and soak up a few rays when we’re back. You can tell me what you think.”
“I already know you’ll look too stunning for words,” I said, and the car swerved as she was jolted inside.
Her desire to tease me hard with her gorgeous body was palpable, like she had half a mind to strip down to her bra and panties while driving. We were within sight of the cottage now, and she looked close to boiling over.
“Wait for me in the kitchen and I’ll show you the new bikini,” she said, talking fast. “It’s really tiny; I wonder if it’s too tiny, too revealing. You’ll tell me if it is, won’t you?” Seeing her like this made me want to reach between her legs and grab hold of the wet heat radiating there. We were pulling into the driveway, though, and Pascaline came running down the steps. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling and calling…”
Right, I had a phone—switched off, the better to be suck/fucked into the stratosphere by a psychic who said she never has sex. “Sorry. I have to get used to having a phone.”
“Where did you take him?” Pascaline demanded of Brandi, taking hold of my wrist to pull me up the steps.
“To meet my psy… Wait, I was going to show him...”
I don’t know if she finished, because we were no longer there. Pulled along, we made a beeline for Pascaline’s bed, and on that bed, in nothing but a baby blue bra and matching panties, sat Lori, her lips so filled with lust that they almost looked injected.
Like an echo of the encounter in Amelia’s bedroom, Pascaline closed and locked the door, and leaned her back against it with her eyes almost aglow. “Lori told me what she did to you yesterday. It’s her fault, not yours, but I think you’re going to have to be punished.” “It was torturing me!” Lori exclaimed, eyes fixed on the bulge in my jeans. “I confessed this afternoon and she... we...”
“We’re going to punish you together. After you explain... this.”
She had reached to the top of a dresser, and held a colorful object in the palm of her hand. It was a thin clear plastic package with the toys clearly visible. The three anal dilators I’d ordered, sized thin, medium, fat.
“They’re already here!” I said. “How did you get them here so fast?”
Anyone could have seen the two seconds of confusion on Pascaline’s face. They’d been ordered from her computer, with her credit card, but she didn’t remember doing it. I found a thread of excitement in her for something new and unexplored, and blew on it like a cunt scout getting a campfire going. Yes she’d ordered them; she wanted them because she knew I wanted to go there with her, and she wanted it too if it got me excited.
“Don’t run; don’t even move,” she said, accepting that the anal dilators were either our idea, or her idea, or even a gift from above. “We’re in charge here.”
Pascaline was braless in a tank-top and jeans, and she became stark naked in about ten seconds, her perky tits pointing right at me. Lori approached me in that time and kneeled at my feet to work my pants. She let out a cry of excitement at seeing my hard dick again, taking it in her hands, twisting it adoringly.
I could read the undercurrent—they were super-hot to fuck me together, but held on to some reservations about going at each other. They’d both fantasized about a threesome involving Brandi, not this configuration, and their hurtful history prevented unconditional trust.
Under normal conditions, they might have chickened out, or gone at me but not each other. I’d already thought about how I wanted Lori and Pascaline working together on a first go-round—Lori’s boobs were easily large enough for a tit-fuck, and I wanted Pascaline’s head buried between Lori’s strong thighs, not just eating pussy but devouring it. They had enough desire for girl-girl that I could make that exact scenario explode like a super-nova in their brains, and I set it off.
Pascaline saw Lori pull me to the bed with her hand never leaving my cock, and she hesitated, torn between Lori’s wet pussy and the package of anal dilators. She chose correctly, opening the package first, coating the thinnest plug with lubricant and bending over with her legs spread to insert it up her ass.
She gasped as it went in, eyes tight with the unfamiliar penetration. Part of her wasn’t sure; another part found it surprisingly delightful. I helped Pascaline relax into the pleasure, her muscles unclenching, eyes opening. She was already wondering, without me needing to lead her there, if her orgasms might have even more jetting force with the additional pressure helping from behind.
Lori was on her back and I climbed aboard, setting her tits free. They were everything I expected, large and pliable with beautifully delineated aureoles. I squeezed them, leaned down and licked a tightening spiral all around the left breast, and worked the anticipation in Lori’s system so that every concentric circle made her hotter, wilder, the desire in her straining nipple flaring the closer I got to it.
She cried out, making helpless sounds of excruciating want before I even set the tip of my tongue to that first nipple. She was already in a state of disbelief that her body could feel so responsive, the connections between nipples and pussy so strong. Her legs kicked behind me—she was ready to go wild, her body in constant uncontrollable motion. The mattress moved and Lori’s flapping legs were grasped, held, filled-ass Pascaline moving in for her wet meal. The mattress moved with her progress, and just as I wished, the bottle of lotion appeared beside my right hand.
As I repeated the spiral treatment upon Lori’s left breast, Pascaline removed Lori’s panties and worked her head in. There was no need to guess when mouth met searing cunt—we all heard it, a shattering moan to shake the nearby seas.
I tied Pascaline’s tongue-work between Lori’s thighs to the throbbing need in her own explosive pussy, and we found a rhythm, Lori’s tits and clitoris the drums our tongues beat upon. Once the lip-smacking pussy snacking had gotten into high gear, I hiked my hips into a different position, and poured oil upon Lori’s breastbone and all over her tits. She was too far away in her journey to downtown Cumtown to harness her boobs for me, so I squeezed them high myself, creating the cleavage-crack that became the oiled flesh-bun for my aching dog.
I’m in love with the visuals that are a part of tit-fucking. That shining compressed breast-flesh, reddening towards the cleavage line from the gliding of my cock; the sight of my meat being enveloped within shapable boobular softness; the Jello-like wobble; the flushed neck and cheeks, and an opened mouth that finds a shape that can only be called a grimace of pleasure.
This mouth expressed disbelief at how that pleasure kept building, the pre-orgasmic forces compounding, lust stacked upon lust, creating more and more pressure. Lori was an endurance athlete, a soccer stud used to pushing her body. She’d never expected that pre-orgasmic forces could build like the tension in a critical part of a sports match. There was no cheering crowd, no fans standing on their feet, yet the excitement in her body kept pushing towards the goal, the roar of her own nerve endings drowning out any sense of limitations. I could feel a wildness coming alive inside her, something instinctual that wanted to thrash and roar in knowing how her body could be pushed this way, obliterating any measure from previous experience, blowing by any signposts that said, “this much and then you cum”.
She began to scream in a serious way. Her mouth distorted and it looked like a panic attack, but it was really the cresting that finally took her over the edge. When she came her body bucked as if electro-charged, her screaming spasms slapping her tits wildly, their slickened quaking taking me to blast-off. When I came it mostly hit her throat and chin, but some touched her lips and I watched her tongue shoot out unconsciously, swiping as she continued to shudder. I know I groaned but I couldn’t hear it, because Pascaline was going liquid Mount Saint Helens down below from bringing Lori off, her groans of release joining in and increasing the volume. I didn’t see her orgasms fill the air but I felt them, like in ecstasy she turned her body and became a grafitti-cummer, tagging my backside with her girl-spray.
I collapsed, temporarily spent, my chest flattening Lori’s boobs. I fell into delicious sleep, and dreamed of rural towns where foggy nights caused apple pie farm girls’ breasts to inflate like circus balloons. Horny sex-starved psychics told fortunes by gazing into crystal butt plugs, while witches and the ghosts of witches cast spells that turned college friends into lesbian lovers. Above, hidden by a blanket of breast-shaped clouds, living spaceships chased alien tail, joining in whirring whirling loops of flying copulation, seeding planets with space-juice every time they came.
Somehow I could dream that alien sex as if it were a tongue, or lips flicking at my sensitive cock-head, simultaneously swirling hot saliva all around my balls. I made the aliens need to please my cock, sucking it with devotion, with delicious fury. They didn’t waste any time, lip-locking my length with a deft screwdriver motion—yet somehow there was a mouth that could still suck my balls. I grunted, opened my heavy eyes and saw two heads of luxurious hair, one red, the other blonde, side by side over my groin, working together and taking turns. Not aliens, but Pascaline and Lori, tag-teaming a blow-job. I slipped back into a halfway dream state, and saw Brandi in my mind, pacing through the cottage in a teenie-weenie red and blue striped bikini, nearly frantic with wanting me salivate all over her hot workout physique. I was bought back to the actual moment as a mouth molded around me and drew me far down a throat as only Lori could, then my balls were sucked, fondled, wetly caressed, the skill level suddenly changing. I opened my eyes again and saw that Pascaline had been edged out. Rising up on her knees she looked momentarily confused, not sure what to fuck or be fucked by next. It wasn’t a breeze to reach inside her with Lori slurping at my dick, and what I wanted required synching the two women, and providing tangible rewards. It began with raising my torso to push Lori’s head away from my dick. She resisted, but I squirmed and broke the connection between her mouth and my pulsing tool.
“No!” she protested. “I need to...”
Without words I made her understand that she needed to trust me, and wait. With Pascaline, I revived a previous wish and watched her face brighten.
Pascaline found my pants on the floor, and brought the little phone out of a back pocket. She made sure it was on, and while standing, spread her legs wide and slowly slipped the device inside her pussy.
Lori’s mouth hung open, her eyes wide with shock. It was easy to see that any fantasies she’d had about the three of us together had not included a move like this.
Pascaline’s walk was telltale as she sought out her own phone. She still had a training plug up her ass, and now the phone in front. She wriggle-walked towards me to hand me the phone; I took it and found mine on her speed dial, and called.
She jumped when it buzzed, with a yelp of pleasure that ignited deep curiosity in Lori. I grasped the top of her head and moved it back to my straining dick, and we fell into the desired configuration, with Lori sucking me hard, Pascaline tonguing Lori’s pussy, and me redialing my number, jerking Pascaline and making her cry into Lori’s wet cunt.
There was no certainty as to whom would cum first. I didn’t make it a fair race, though; Pascaline found the phone’s vibrations so intense that she both desired and dreaded every buzz, and I shot the desire part on a rocket to the moon, her pussy craving the calls until she couldn’t get enough. Every jerk of her body did something unexpected with her pussy-eating action, which made Lori moan into my dick, the chain complete.
But not equal. Pascaline was the first to lose it, cumming all over the place in her super-liquid fashion. She fell sideways in a fetal position, fingers and toes curling. And that’s when I grabbed hold of Lori’s curiosity, and her need for having her pussy tended to with Pascaline out of commission. I made her have to have the phone, too.
She raised up from her cock-swallowing, with wide eyes tinged with worry. It was such a foreign impulse for her; she simply couldn’t imagine inserting an object like that inside her pussy. But what she’d seen and heard from Pascaline, and the way she was still moaning in a pleasureful way...
Lori looked into my eyes and I said it out loud: “You need it inside you, too.”
My words hit the places inside that I’d worked, including the competitive can-do daredevil Lori I’d stoked the day before. She made a strange kind of whimpering sound that was at odds with the movement of her hands, which went straight to Pascaline’s pussy. I couldn’t see how many fingers went in to slip the thing out, but when her hands came back into view the phone was there, so gooey and slick that Lori wasn’t going to have any problems inserting it into her own pussy.
She was so needy there, and I made her needier, wetter. In the few seconds it took to position herself and the phone, her pussy craved the thing, and when her mouth opened wide it was in a smile of shock at the pleasure of it’s entrance.
I didn’t give her any time to prepare for how it would be. I just made it buzz, and watched as she literally went cross-eyed for a couple of seconds. It buzzed four times, and every time was a sight to behold.
“Jake! Oh sweet Je... Je... I can’t believe...”
I put my hand on her head again, guiding her back into sucking my cock. I wasn’t sure if it was possible, but I could swear that even her mouth was wetter, her excitability turned into heightened saliva production. She made voracious sounds as she pulled me in deep, head twisting so her lips corkscrewed my length.
I knew a couple of things during that blow-job. One was that, amazing as Lori was with her mouth, she paled compared to Amelia. Second, I could roughly copy Amelia’s trick of making a lover not-quite-cum, by monitoring the state of Lori’s pussy as I rang the phone within it. When she was two breaths from exploding I’d end the call, hearing and feeling her groans into my dick.
Putting it into practice, she re-doubled her efforts on my cock, sucking furiously to encourage me to make another call. It was an ever-escalating dropped call arc; I knew exactly when to starve her, and when to overfeed by letting the device buzz on. It was a beautiful duet, with the two of us finally cumming together, Lori humming her passion into my dick, my phone vibrating into her orgasm, creating a reaction so forceful that the thing plopped right out of her pussy, washed away as if by a flood.
Lori collapsed sideways much as Pascaline had, while I lay there panting. My dick was saliva wet, tall and glistening, and I kept waiting for it to soften, its energy withdrawn.
Pascaline moved, raising her rear in the air like she was trying to get up but didn’t have the strength to go any further. Her fine round ass beckoned, and my cock continued to throb. She wiggled her ass, made it rotate—it was a cheeky sign, expressing yet unfulfilled needs.
This was so much faster than I’d expected; I’d thought I’d have to go at Pascaline’s insides hard to get her wanting it, and here she was waving her beautiful butt like a flag. She had only had the thinnest plug preparing her, and only for a short while, but that was no reason to ignore her signal. It was insane that I was even hard—perhaps it should have been impossible, but hard I was, and aching to buy what she was advertising.
I coated my dick with oil and stepped off the bed, grasping Pascaline’s hips to turn her my way. The dilator was still inserted; I grasped it and slowly twisted it out, and eased the head of my cock in. She moaned, groaned, spluttered. From the sounds it didn’t sound good, but her inner state told a different story, wanting me to slip in deeper. I’d only had anal intercourse once before, with a naughty little Arkansas social worker who craved the act without any extra lust-juicing on my part. Pascaline was somewhere in the middle—she was a back door virgin, but had come to enjoy the feeling of being filled by the dilator. Its absence had her wanting me, but I went slow, being so much wider and longer than the plug had prepared her for.
It felt so fucking good. And I wanted the same for her, tying all the pleasure she felt there into her pussy, her clitoris, back feeding front. We found a rhythm, slow and half inserted at first, but after a dozen or so smooth thrusts she begged me to go deeper, faster. It became a proper fucking, Pascaline breath-grunts escalating as her passions built, me fucking her crack faster and faster, feeling yet another release building.
I poured pleasure into her clit just before I lost it, the two of us shuddering, my legs taking the brunt of her spraying release. It had the feel of an erotic plumbing experiment, me filling her from the back while she opened a cum-faucet in front. Eventually we were both spent and santorum stained, and she folded her body forward while I lay on top of her back, still inside but finally softening as I should.
Lying on Pascaline’s bottom, I felt on top of the world—minus one. All of this was going much more quickly than I’d expected, and there was no reason Brandi couldn’t be wrapped into the same fast-forward movement.
I closed my eyes, listening to the breathing of two sex ravaged beauties, their sound mixing with the distant pound of waves breaking on the shore. Behind closed eyes, it was the missing breath that called to me like a whistling wind. The house was quiet; even so I could feel Brandi nearby, needing me to see her gorgeous body displayed in her little striped bikini. I imagined her panting, increasingly desperate, dream-deprived and Jake-starved.
My watch was still on and I checked it. There wasn’t time to give her a go; besides, what I really I wanted was Brandi post-dream action. No guarantees that what I’d attempted would work, but I had faith that the wait would be worth it.
I don’t know what gets other people motivated, or what they long for. For me, nailing Brandi had become more than the tippy-top of my to-do list, or the creamy scoop of chocolate I’d been craving since I first laid eyes on her. She was my new personal quest.
Nothing personal, but one way or another you’re next, I thought.
And with that I rolled off one woman only to land partly on top of another. We found a way to fit together, three jigsaw pieces forming a tightly wound sex puzzle, and throbbed our way into a nice long nap.