Approaching Storm; or Jake’s Tales 2
by Pluto Knee Em
Part 3
I had sex dreams that night, and all three housemates were in them. The sex itself was a confused jumble with some gaps in my memory; I know I fucked them one after another, in every numerical configuration and in every hole. It was a long dream, and in it I was inexhaustible, able to keep getting hard no matter what happened. It came as no surprise that when I awakened, it was the sex with Brandi that I most wished had been real.
I had an erection that just wouldn’t quit, which isn’t the most graceful thing in a communal bathroom situation. After discreetly showering, I shaved and decided on breakfast out, thinking I should set up early for my fortune-telling gig. With an approaching hurricane in the picture, I expected more customers than usual, most of them wanting to know whether to start packing their bags.
I was standing in line at a bagel and smoothie joint when the phone buzzed in my back pocket. I’d forgotten all about the phone, and receiving a call was such an unusual event that I thought everyone must be staring. A few did stare, but I think it was because my phone reeked of pussy.
“Jake? It’s Brandi.”
“Wow. I mean, yes?”
“I know this is out of nowhere, but Amelia really wants to meet you. Could you come by the house sometime this morning? I could drive us to her place.”
Amelia, who was Amelia… “Your psychic?”
“I told her about you yesterday. She said she’s never met another psychic before.”
“She wants to talk to me?”
“If you’d like to meet her. I think she’s curious.”
I had no idea what to make of this. I wasn’t really a psychic; for that matter, Amelia might not be one, either. Or she might be, and would she perceive my weirdness like the Navajo could? Worse, I’d claimed that I could do certain things—past-life regression, hypnotism and such—and what if the psychic exposed me as a fraud? I didn’t even know if I was a fraud; in fact the problem could be the opposite, with the psychic sniffing out that I could do more than I claimed. I hadn’t come down hard on Brandi yet, but my influence was alive in her psyche, and somebody familiar with her insides might be able to see that.
“I’m just picking up some breakfast,” I found myself responding. “Want me to bring you anything?”
She wanted something called a morning kicker yoghurt smoothie, and I handed it to her fifteen minutes later. She sat outside the cottage on the steps, in a tight blue blouse, tiny black shorts and sandals. The shaping of those muscular legs just killed me, especially her silky smooth thighs. In a perfect world I’d take her yoghurt drink and use it to coat the upper five inches of those thighs, along with the sensitive triangle where they joined. Licking it up slowly and teasingly with my tongue, that would kick the morning into just the right gear for both of us.
After slipping in the passenger side of her Camry, it occurred to me that a certain someone might not like this chain of events. “I probably should have gone inside to say hello to Pascaline.”
“She’s still asleep,” Brandi said, buckling herself in. The strap of her seatbelt emphasized the shapes of her breasts by separating them; I was wearing reflective sunglasses, and used their cover to do some staring, drinking in her vital beauty. “And Lori is… I don’t know what. In a frantic mood of some kind, pacing and wringing her hands. I think breaking up with Hank was hard on her. She needs to get laid.”
Brandi had a frantic energy of her own, but it was all about having me meet Amelia. This wasn’t quite what I’d envisioned when I hyped her desires to bring me into her dream work, but I had hit the road in the spirit of seeing what the next curve might bring, and here was another. We drove south on the bypass, then crossed the Wright Memorial Bridge heading inland, and fell into an odd silence for a while, she thinking her thoughts, me tuning in as I could.
“Hardly any clouds in the sky, but they say Irene could make landfall near here,” she said.
“I heard. Will they make us leave?”
“They may have already mandated an evacuation of Ocracoke Island. Here it’ll probably be recommended; I’m not sure that we’ll have to go. The cottage is pretty close to the beach, though, so we might have to pack our valuables and head inland for a day or two. It’s nearing the end of the summer; if we have to uproot ourselves like that, we could just decide to go back to campus a week early to get ready for our classes.”
She’d only been thinking out loud, but the prospect of the girls high-tailing it early was alarming. Until then I hadn’t connected the hurricane’s approach to my own plans, and now I wondered if there was a deadline for landing all these women in the sack.
“Where do you sleep, anyway?” Brandi asked. “At a motel?”
“I have my van decked out for camping. I’m staying at an RV park just a mile north of your place.”
“The Nag’s Hideaway?”
“That’s the one. I’ve noticed it beginning to empty out already.”
“That’s the point of campers and RV’s I guess; pick up and go where the weather is good.”
Or the pussy is good, like right where I’d landed.
“Have you ever met another psychic?” she asked, changing the subject.
“I haven’t. I guess I don’t know if we’re supposed to embrace each other as special compatriots, or what.”
“You won’t be embracing Amelia at all. Your stories aren’t the same, you know, but there is one similarity. You said you had a special dream in a state of delirium, after nearly dying in the desert.”
“That’s right.”
“And discovered you had abilities when you awakened in the hospital. With Amelia, she drowned in a snorkeling mishap in the Yucatan…”
“Almost drowned, you mean?”
“Drowned, about a dozen years ago. She was resuscitated through mouth-to-mouth, and ever since then she’s had her gifts.”
This intrigued me. Is that what it took for special abilities to flicker to life, a near-death or reversible death encounter? I’d always wondered why the ones who changed me took things so far, to the point that I could just as easily have awakened dead, not transformed.
We were about forty-five minutes from the beach when Brandi slowed and turned onto a long sandy driveway, past countless rows of corn. A quarter mile in we came to a small cluster of simple ranch homes, some with swing sets and inflatable baby pools in sun-baked yards.
“That one,” she pointed, and it was the only house with decent landscaping, including a giant oak for shade.
I don’t know what I’d pictured, but the woman who stepped out onto the small front porch and waved wasn’t it. Maybe I’d been thinking fifty years old and a bit overweight, with polyester clothing and hair from a salon. Instead, Amelia was in her early thirties, barefoot in a pale blue summer dress that showed exceptional legs and an overall delightful figure.
“Don’t touch her unless she asks for it,” Brandi said. “I mean it, no body contact of any kind.”
Well shucks. “What’s that about?”
“And turn off your phone.”
“I don’t have a pho… Right. I do.”
“Amelia won’t allow a live phone in her house. She says she can hear the fields they give off. She hates them.”
One gold star for Amelia. Several more, actually, because she really was easy on the eyes. Her hair was chestnut in color and pulled back in a ponytail, showing an elegant neck and graceful jaw, and an open and friendly face above. She was taller than Brandi, and didn’t have her gym dedicated muscle tone, but her curves were similar, nicely proportioned everywhere I looked. Maybe it was the setting as much as the woman, because surrounded by crops as far as the eye could see, she reminded me of the scantily clad babes that used to pop up and tell awful jokes on that Hee-Haw show from my early childhood.
Stepping out of the car, I noted the whir of cicadas and crickets all around, a steady drone that pulsed with life. Up on the porch, Amelia greeted me French-style, where you get the little air non-kisses to the side of the face. It felt more like play-acting than a real greeting to me, because she conspicuously kept her distance in doing it; no touching, not even with hands or a few wisps of her hair.
I followed the two women inside, and Amelia suggested we sit on her glassed-in side porch, rich with ferns in hanging baskets. She disappeared for a couple of minutes, and Brandi picked through a little stack of magazines. I glanced at a few covers—mostly Parabola magazines with themes like, “Earth and Spirit—Opposites or Compliments?”, or, “Questioning—The Path to Finding Answers”. Better than anything you’d find in a dentist’s office, but where was the issue with the theme: “Changed By Aliens—The Sure Path to Unattainable Pussy”?
“There,” Amelia said, bringing in iced drinks on a wooden tray. “It’s called an Arnold Palmer, a mix of iced tea and lemonade. Going to be a hot one, isn’t it?”
She placed the tray on a low table, and I noticed how Brandi waited to pick up a glass for herself and me. To make sure she didn’t touch Amelia, even accidentally? I glanced from one lovely face to the other, trying like hell to get my mind as blank as humanly possible.
“Well?” Brandi said, once we all had cool drinks in our hands.
“He’s nervous,” Amelia motioned with her glass, looking friendly and open. “The touching thing, plus he thinks I’m going to put my ear to his brain and pick the locks.”
“Just relax,” Brandi smiled at me. “She has to touch you for the sight to be there in full force. That’s why, you know, the rule.”
Thank God there was no special sight probing my thoughts just then. Brandi had settled into a plush chair with her legs crossed yoga-style; her shorts were riding up her thighs and the bulge of her calves was sinfully hot. To her left, Amelia was almost worse, with her thin summer dress clinging to her shape, giving just enough hints of what lay underneath that I really wanted to see for myself how right or wrong my imagination was. I’d had a fantasy about seducing older women since my first hard-on; at a youthful and lovely thirty-something, she was almost like a prototype, one of those women who help you realize that it can just get better with age.
“Like Brandi says, I have to touch you to tune in,” Amelia said. “I take it that your gift works differently than mine?”
“I don’t have to touch the person.” Though I found myself wanting to touch her, intimately, even with a hotter number like Brandi in the room.
“You simply, what, zero in?”
I wasn’t used to speaking about the how’s or what’s of what I did, and squirmed inside about getting into the nuts and bolts of it. “It’s more of an inside touch. This probably wouldn’t make sense to anyone but me, but I think of it as being aware of a sandpile inside someone, and I sift my fingers through it. I’m originally from desert country, if that helps.”
“And here you’ve been drawn to the ocean, and more sand. And you’re doing a little business by the beach, I hear. You do well?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“It takes guts to go out there like that. So many people wanting something from you… I don’t suppose what you tell them goes all that deep, though.”
“Agreed. I’m not trying to dive into the deep end with anybody. It’s more like soothing something on the surface, giving them something they can walk away happy with. They’re at the beach for fun, after all.”
“And in the mood to eat popcorn shrimp and ice cream, not a gourmet dish. But you could do that if you wanted, couldn’t you? Go in deeper and serve up something finer.”
“Probably.” Definitely deeper. As for a finer meal, that was almost always of the pussy eating or cock swallowing kind.
“They’d probably be afraid if you told them something about themselves that they didn’t already know. I mean sand is an interesting metaphor, isn’t it? It’s often used for burying things like treasure. Or secrets.”
I wasn’t sure where this was going. Was she indirectly judging me for my fortune-telling routine, or challenging me to get real with my powers, and use them for therapy like she did?
“So again, tell me how it works,” she went on. “Someone completely new sits in front of you, and you sift through the sand you see inside? That’s it?”
“Pretty much.”
“And if you tried to sift inside Brandi right now?”
Brandi had never asked me this for herself, probably because she already had a psychic. I didn’t want her to know how much I could see, which meant treading lightly. “It isn’t like a shuttered window opens or anything. But I can feel Brandi’s wish for us to get along. That means a lot to her.”
We both looked at Brandi and she nodded that I was right. “And if you look inside me right now?” Amelia asked.
I’d been making attempts since first seeing her on the porch. “You’re… obscure. Quiet.”
“You hear a person?”
“Mixing my metaphors, sorry. Your sandpile is extremely… hidden?”
“Ha, I’m mysterious!” Amelia laughed. “I like this man!”
Brandi was beaming. “This is so exciting, for the two of you to be able to compare notes. How often can you share your knowledge with someone who lives something similar?”
And I was genuinely curious, never having met someone with special abilities. “When you work with people, what exactly do you do? Hold their hands? Touch their head, something like that?”
Amelia drank some of her Arnold Palmer, and I found myself drawn to the quality of her eyes and lips. The eyes were brown but bright, and extremely intelligent; the word that came to mind for the mouth was voluptuous. A very warm smile, too, the kind that made you want to please her, just to see her smile again.
“I have a massage table where I perform some healing work when necessary, but mostly the sessions take place in a small room elsewhere in the house, where my clients sit in a simple chair. I stand behind them and place my hands on their shoulders. It could be any touch at all, I suppose, but I like being behind, out of sight. Especially with the male clients.”
“They kind of fixate,” Brandi explained. “The experience can have an edge that’s quite energetic. It can feel sort of sexual.”
I’ll bet. I was truly fascinated, though, and for the first time felt the presence of sexual desires in the room that weren’t my own. It wasn’t anything fixed; more like a pervasive dense fog, not solid enough to grasp but touching everything and everyone.
“Brandi told me what she knows of your story. You’re lucky in that you received training.”
Only I hadn’t; that was all a lie. I just nodded and drank.
“I had no one to guide me; I had to navigate all the changes myself. At the beginning I thought I must be going crazy—I’d touch one of my friends, or a stranger or whomever, and get a rush of feelings and thoughts and… Well, I’ve come to call it brain music. Sometimes thoughts as sentences, but more often in tones, like a musical scale that doesn’t actually exist.”
“That’s completely different than anything I’ve experienced.”
“Sometimes it’s quite beautiful—different people, different music. Brandi here has especially complex overtones; I don’t know why.”
“Overtones?”
“In music, harmonics are based on the specific use of overtones. I’m not trained sufficiently to classify what I hear, but I do know when something is highly unusual, or unusually beautiful. It’s that way when I touch Brandi, helping her to search for her purpose.”
“Psychic music—I never would have imagined such a thing.”
“And we’re really in uncharted territory working with my dreams,” Brandi said. “They’re extremely visual, while Amelia’s understanding works more through sound. It’s like bringing two completely different languages together.”
“Sometimes we’re the blind leading the blind; other times the deaf leading the deaf. And mostly I think that’s the best possible thing, because we don’t have preconceptions standing in our way.”
“Brandi gave me a quick overview of the goals.”
“This dream work is new to me, but the aim is always the same—it’s all about finding one’s most important question. People are fixated on finding answers, but what I do is more about enlivening a question, opening it. Everybody has one, you know, a central question. With some it changes as life circumstances change; for others it’s a constant that lies inside them their entire lives. I think most of us stumble around hoping to find answers all the time, but that’s all shallow, never reaching down into the depths. No true path can be lived without discovering the central question that lies at the bottom of everything we do.”
Brandi had mentioned this angle. I hadn’t been so sure what it was about then, and felt even more confused now. “I’m not sure that I’m following.”
But I had been following enough to see that some sort of signal had been given to Brandi, to give us a few minutes alone. “I’m going to get some crackers to snack on,” she said, and quickly left the room.
Her legs and butt were hypnotic and I wanted to ogle every step. Amelia had her eyes on me, though, so I stared at my drink instead.
“Brandi is an extraordinarily lovely woman, isn’t she?”
I nodded, feeling more exposed with only the two of us there.
“How long have you had your abilities, Jake?”
“Not even half a year.”
“One life before they appeared, and an entirely different one after?”
“You could say that. I was sort of aimless before. Now...”
“Now you know what you want?”
Now I could get some of the pussy I wanted; that much had changed. “When you put it like that, I guess I’m still partly aimless. I’ve been moving around a lot, seeing the country and accepting what life brings.”
“You have an air of… I’m not quite sure what I should call it. Adventure? Calling forth extremes? As for acceptance, you have a planning side to your nature that you might not be aware of.”
“I thought you had to touch me to see inside.”
“I can tell some things simply through observing. Your story of how you acquired your abilities, for instance... It’s not the whole truth. You don’t have to tell me everything if you don’t want to; it’s your business, after all. But the guidance you say you received…”
“Never happened,” I admitted under her knowing gaze. There are times when you just have to let a fabrication collapse, rather than shoring it up with more lies. “I had to figure things out myself.”
“You embellish because?”
This was tricky, as I’d already placed myself in a position where Brandi could learn that I hadn’t been truthful with her. “Because the truth is far stranger than fiction, I suppose. Most of what I told Brandi is true—there really was a Navajo connection, though no wise teacher. And I left some parts out—the totally unbelievable stuff, mostly. Not that it’s a competition, but I think my story is more out-there than yours.”
“I might believe those unbelievable parts. We aren’t the same, but there’s a good chance I could understand.”
I weighed telling her, I really did. It might feel like an unburdening, but I simply couldn’t do it. Maybe if she’d been like I imagined she’d be, instead of a lovely and sexy woman. Maybe not, even then.
“Stubborn, or fearful?” she asked.
“Honestly, I’ll let you know when I know.”
“You remind me of something, or someone, you know that?”
“Who?”
“Me, shortly after my gift came alive.”
That fog of desire was around us again, pressing in from all directions. I scanned the room for a couple of seconds, almost believing I’d see it taking a distinct form.
“You feel an energy in the room,” Amelia said.
“I do. It’s like a mist, everywhere. It’s… odd.”
“It’s a mistake to believe that people and nature aren’t connected. They are, like a network, and we’re a part of that nature. Speaking of networks, you have a phone, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I turned it off.”
“No one has a problem believing that phones are linked, though the connections are invisible. Could I see yours?”
“My phone?” I started to fish it out of my pocket, then hesitated, remembering that it smelled like Pascaline’s pussy. What a bonehead, not taking the time to grab some cleanser and wipe the thing down. She motioned with her hand to surrender it, and I went ahead and placed it on the table next to her chair. She made a motion to pick it up, but only touched it with the tip of her index finger.
“Not Brandi,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“This wasn’t inserted inside Brandi.”
No, it was inside Pascaline, but what the fuck? “Inside?” I asked, trying not to look like someone who would mind-prime a woman into wanting to stuff a phone up her pussy.
“You’re inside Brandi, though. You’ve been drawn to her—easy to see why. But it’s more than that. You made her come here, and you don’t even know it yet.”
I stared at her, the blonde hairs standing up on my arms. “You say I’m inside Brandi? What do you mean?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “What is sex like for you, Jake?”
“What?”
“Forgive me; I shouldn’t have been so blunt. I… don’t have it. Sex. I haven’t, for five years, five long... Making love is so much about touch that it becomes a psychic overload for me, and I… I feel like… At the same time it was so beautiful, the power of it so…”
She wasn’t finishing her sentences, but the room might as well be crackling with lust, invisible power lines carrying sexual current from corner to corner. Amelia wasn’t looking at me; she didn’t seem to be looking at anything, yet her eyes were wide, almost glowing.
“I could hear what my partner wanted, know what they desired. I used my abilities for sex, relentlessly. I was nineteen and lovely, and I could touch a man, a woman, and hear the music of every sex act they’d ever dreamed of. Complete strangers, a childhood friend I hadn’t seen in years—it didn’t matter who they were or how I knew them. I could lay my hand on anyone, and hear their desires building like a bolero, growing fuller, connected to the whole, incessantly throbbing… Their lust was intoxicating. It got inside me, became my own, made me want more, always more...”
I almost wanted to cry for mercy, her words had me so worked up. It was more than the words, though; she looked like a woman in a sexual memory trance, old hidden secrets spilling out through some state or channel that she’d fallen into by accident. Inside, the barriers that had obscured her sands were falling apart, and her sandpile positively glowed with desire, a phosphorescent conical shape pulsing with brightness.
“I thought—how could I not respond, and give them what they wanted? I could become what they’d always desired, instantly knowing their vulnerable spots, their most sensitive zones. And the music inside me, rising and rising, every chill like the most exquisite crescendo…”
Some people could talk about sex and be hot doing it. This woman opened her mouth and it was like a brushfire in a summer windstorm, spreading towers of flames in all directions.
“You understand,” she said. “You know what it is to pry into those secret places, and ignite them. You see what a woman wants and you can give it.”
I went cold, even with all the heat in my dick. Somehow she was seeing me, or my ability.
“Desire emanating out in waves, pulling at the fabric of life, rearranging, creating, distorting pathways for lustful dreams to become tangible… A wide field, its energy compounded, impossibilities collapsing under its force…
She looked possessed and I no longer had any idea what she was talking about. The fog of desire felt like it was gelling around us, becoming a plasma that coated the the entire room, coated us, sizzling with magnetic force. Without thinking about it, almost like invisible strings pulled me forward, I got out of my seat and placed my hands on Amelia’s shoulders, and held on.
Something flashed inside, bright and hot as lightning. “Fuck!” I shouted, my brain cracking like a whip. I staggered back, and was standing there with my mouth hanging open when Brandi rushed into the room.
“Jake? Amelia?”
Neither of us responded. My brain buzzed, and time passed.
“I’m fine,” Amelia said, though her voice shook.
“You’re pale as a sheet!” Brandi said. “Both of you look pale.”
“We touched,” she said. “And the music!”
I had the sense that they were waiting for me to say something, but there was some kind of bizarre interference going on in my skull. I heard sounds, perhaps even something that might be called music, and wondered if I might be imagining it. It was more of a percussive hum than anything overtly melodic—I blinked and shook my head, trying to make it go away.
“Jake? What’s happening?”
I felt faint, and sat down. I leaned forward in my seat, lowering my head between my knees to ward off blacking out. Hands touched my shoulders, Brandi’s hands, small but strong, helping in case I toppled.
“Jake?”
The dizziness passed. Brandi was squatting in front of me, looking back over her shoulder at Amelia. “What just happened?”
“Some sort of… pulling, at the fabric,” Amelia said. “I don’t completely understand it. I saw a bright spiral, and the music… My God!”
“What should I do?” Brandi asked. “You two look like you just wrestled electric eels!”
“You and Jake should go and let me rest,” Amelia said. She stood, and I had the sense that she was standing upright through sheer force of will, putting on a display to keep Brandi from worrying.
We slowly made our way to the front door, and I didn’t know what to think. It felt like we’d been in there for hours and hours; checking my watch, it had been all of forty minutes. Brandi was the first to the front door, and Amelia told her to wait outside, that she needed a word with me in private. She motioned to a hallway; a few moments later we were in a darkened bedroom, with the door closed and locked.
“Can you find this place again on your own?” she asked, her back to the door, brown eyes beaming with intensity.
“Sure. Why?”
She didn’t answer. She just breathed, and it felt to me that each in-breath made me hornier, every out-breath like a soft stroke up the length of my hardening cock. Even reeling, or especially when reeling, she looked good enough to me to eat.
“It’s bigger than us,” she whispered. “Multiple scales, recurring patterns of energy.”
She stared at the crotch of my pants. Though it was dark in the room, she had to be able to see how hard I was.
“You’ve pulled us in, the changes inevitable. The fabric has become plastic and there’s no resisting it. It already is. It’s been for months, advanced waves reaching out. The pace will quicken, intensify...”
“What already is? What fabric? What waves?”
Amelia had a crooked smile on her face. She leaned over and caught the hem of her dress in her hands, and pulled it up over her head.
If I hadn’t known it before, I knew then that the early thirties is a time of exquisite hotness for a beautiful woman. Her body was absolutely lovely, more supple and toned than I had suspected with a structure that proclaimed that she was fully adult, fully formed. She undid the clasp of her bra and out popped proud teardrop breasts with surprisingly broad and round aureoles. She stood motionless for a few seconds as if to allow me to drink it all in, then moved forward in a rush, hands caressing my chin, my cheeks. No head-explosion from her touch this time, no flash, but I felt chills everywhere as a hand fastened around one of mine and guided it down between her thighs, pressing in hard. Through the cotton of her panties I could feel the indentation of her pussy, and I moved a finger down against it, and found my finger wet even through the cloth.
“Oh my God,” she sighed. “There’s no resisting it! It’s bigger than we are, so big, so big.”
Her other hand had found my erection through my jeans, and felt along my shape. Her breathing became a kind of frantic panting and she worked the zipper, hands scrambling as though she couldn’t get there fast enough.
“Amelia?”
She unfastened my pants and sank to her knees, drawing jeans and underwear with her. I felt immobilized, transfixed as she took me inside her mouth, sucking me gently, lovingly, but with a movement of her tongue that had me right to the edge of shooting my load with astounding rapidity. Just when I couldn’t take any more she eased off, and I felt the surge in my dick change with the pull of G-force, like the need to cum was in a roller-coaster free-fall. She did that again and again, getting me to within a breath of shooting before shifting her angle and speed so that I needed to but didn’t. It was torture, the kind of torture you couldn’t get enough of, the anticipated releases building up inside, compounding in force until they became an agonized groan in my throat.
I felt the desires swirling around the room again, a whirlpool of lust that bathed my dick with liquid heat from the inside. I could feel the pressure of almost-cumming building in my head, the distant sound of insects whirring between my ears, growing louder, escalating in insistence, all the mating calls of nature a palpable sound that filled my brain, swelled my balls, filling my aching cock with energy that ripped into this world and…
“Ahhh!” I cried, spurting wildly into Amelia’s hungry mouth. My whole body convulsed, the explosion like an electric current setting every limb ablaze.
I collapsed and was caught, held, kissed. I lay on my back and was unable to see, and felt a rhythm above me, my stunned dick aching deliciously, smothered by wetness, enveloped in gliding heat. I blinked my eyes open and saw Amelia atop, her panties gone, knee-squatting above to impale her swollen pussy with my dick. She rode me hard, the interior curves of her breasts slapping together, fucking me with a smack-smack soundtrack played by gravity and lovely pliable flesh.
I didn’t think I could cum again. Even being young and in good shape there are limitations, a required period of recovery and regeneration. But she kept going faster, her tits slapping harder, and I felt the shift inside, from “How could I possibly” to “Oh fuck I’m going to!”
“It’s coming, growing in strength!” her voice cried out, gasped, became a wail of abstract sound.
Something or someone fell upon me, quaking, vibrating, and as she flooded over me I let loose, pouring myself into her. I convulsed until I was half there, floating down a molten stream. My cock ached a purring engine ache, unbelievable satisfaction and insatiable hunger intertwined in its pulsing. I’d gotten; I wanted; I’d received. And I lusted for more, always more.
I lost track. Awareness finally drifted in and I ventured to sit up, to stand and get my pants back on. I was alone in the room, the door shut, the house quiet. According to my watch it had only been fifteen minutes or so since Brandi went outside, though it felt like hours. Bending down and peeking through the blinds of the closest window, I saw Amelia and Brandi leaning against the side of her car, engaged in conversation under the shade of the big oak.
I wondered what they were speaking about, and wasn’t entirely sure if Amelia and I had fucked, or if that part of our encounter had been a delusion. I swiped my hand along my cock and brought it to my nose—we’d definitely fucked, and she smelled delicious.
I took a minute to wash up in the bathroom before walking outside on trembling legs. The huge tree above us buzzed with desire, as did the insects, the birds, the soil and air. It was like the molecules that held the fabric of existence together were horny, and seeking the means to become even hornier.
“You okay?” Brandi asked. “You still look a bit shell-shocked.”
“I’m okay.” If okay were another word for cock-rocked and extremely confused.
“Ready to head back, then?”
“I guess.”
“You’ll have to come again,” Amelia said, slipping away from the car with lithe grace. Brandi got in, and Amelia caught my arm before I did the same. “Don’t forget your phone.”
She had it in her hand and held it out, but when I reached for it she moved it up, right under my nose. It smelled like pussy even more than before, and it was her strong scent that predominated now. I just stared at it, and then into her eyes.
“Consider me part of your network,” she said in a low voice. “I programmed my number in it, too. Call me when you’re ready to return for more.”
“I don’t know if I should do that,” I said, wanting her but sensing a danger I didn’t understand.
“Take it from a psychic, Jake—you’re going to be pulled back here. Brandi will make sure because you made sure.”
She smiled slyly as she slipped the phone into my hand. I put it in my back pocket in a hurry and got in the car, rolling the window down just in case Brandi’s psychic’s pussy smell decided to rise up like a mischievous tendril and create trouble.
Amelia gave a little wave as we backed up and turned to leave. I could swear the phone was sufficiently surrounded by my rear, and I’d washed my dick clean. Why, then, did Amelia’s sweet aroma fill my nose when she smiled and waved good-bye?