by M. Garnet
She had heard of madness hitting all the old artists who indulged in too much sex, Donatello, van Eyck, Raphael, and others more recent. But upon reading up on most of the history of this, she found they had contacted diseases, and she was clean. It was a miracle that she had escaped the many modern plagues that lay out there to trap the unwary sex partners. But that was one area she had tried to be careful.
Twice in her tumultuous life she had been raped. Both times, her first trip had been to a private doctor, not the police. One time, the man had used a condom. The other time, it had been several men, but she had escaped any diseases. The doctor had taken a great deal of time flushing her out with sterile antiseptics. He was worried that all traces of DNA from the men was being flushed away, too. She paid him in cash with the extra that would ensure his silence. The second time she had broken ribs, bruises that took weeks to heal, broken fingers, and two deep cuts that the doctor took care of and left very small scars. Reminders to be more careful of who she said no to, and if she did say no, being careful of going out alone.
So if she was going mad, it was not from diseases, it was just from her lifestyle or maybe something passed down from one of her parents, as both were long dead by this time. She needed to check into their background to see if there was any genetic mental illness. It was possible she had been out of her mind all of her life and had finally tipped over the wall. What she had done, concerning sex, was not mainstream.
Or maybe she was not going mad. Maybe she had all of her bodily senses back, and she now could have normal climaxes. Yes, that might be it. She had indulged in a break in her old lifestyle. She had rested and eaten well and exercised. Her body looked good, her hair had more natural shine, and it was longer, way past her shoulders now. She had gotten some color from walking the beach.
So what if she had one crazy experience? That did not actually mean she was crazy. She probably was just returning to normal. What she needed to do was try out a trick, and then she would know for sure. She needed plain old vanilla sex with one man to see if she enjoyed it. Yep, that would answer the question.
She went to the phone and looked up at the pegboard in the kitchen. She took the card for the country store. This was the one that had the manager, the great looking guy who had hit on her. She made out a small list of items, normal things, eggs, milk, etc, and called in an order for a delivery. She was assured by the deep voice that he personally would have everything out there within the hour.
She took a shower, then went out to the side porch off the kitchen, leaving the glass door open, took off her bathrobe, and laid face down, naked on the cushions. She relaxed and felt the warm sun, as she was shielded from the cool breeze by the house.
She heard the doorbell, and she ignored it as it rang several times. Then she heard the door open and a deep voice calling as he moved into the house with the box of groceries.
Finally, when she decided he was almost to the kitchen, she called out. “Just set them down on the counter. You will find an envelope with the money in it right there. A small tip for you. Thanks.” She did not say anything else, just kept her head down and her eyes closed, but she heard him moving.
She had sat the envelope down on the end of the counter near the open door so that when he retrieved it, he would see her. She heard him setting the box down and then moving a bit as he looked around. She heard his firm steps as he saw the envelope, and then there was no movement. He had seen her.
“Is everything okay?” she asked in a soft voice, not moving or raising her head.
She heard him clear his throat. “Yes, everything is perfect.”
She smiled, her face in the pillow. “I meant is the amount correct?” She heard him take a couple of tentative steps towards her.
“I am sure it is correct. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
She could tell he was holding his breath. She lifted her head and looked up at him. “Are you any good at putting on sun screen? I mean that it is probably not part of your job, but, like most people, I can’t get it on my back. It is right there on the stand.” She laid her head back down. She was actually enjoying this. It had been a long time since she had seduced anyone. Most of the time, it was keeping them away.
* * * *
He was not a slow learner. He had a gorgeous creature laid out like a banquet in front of him, and, by damn, he was going to load up his plate. He moved around her, picked up the sunscreen, and watched as she slid over to give him room to sit down beside her on the lounge.
* * * *
She glanced down to see the jeans tight over his muscular thighs as he spread oil on his palms and, looking at her, he waited a moment, deciding where to start.
He slowly rubbed the oil into her shoulders and then down her arms and, without taking his hands off, came back up. She felt the nice roughness of work-worn hands as he rolled the oil into her back, over her ribs. She softly relaxed and enjoyed a man taking care of her. She felt as he went below her waist, but then hesitated and went back up.
“It’s okay, my ass gets sunburned, too.” She tightened her ass muscles to let him see the round globes move.
* * * *
He drew in a deep breath, poured more oil, and then his large hands were all over those warm pink inviting orbs. Getting braver as he rubbed in the oil, he rubbed down one leg, but he let the other hand slowly rub back and forth, gently working down between the crack. He was amazed to see her spread her legs apart to allow him entrance, and he felt an erection like he had never had before. This woman had not been out of his mind since she had first walked into his store. He knew she was out of his league when he first saw her, but it did not stop the lust that burned in his groin. Now, here he was, unbelievably in the one position he had not thought possible. How many times had he jacked off thinking of her? Just this once, he might be able to have the real thing.
He still rubbed one thigh, but the other hand was now moving down between her crack, discovering the tight pucker of her back hole. He rubbed oil around it with one finger and heard her moan, then she turned over with a swift movement.
“You are doing that so good, perhaps you should do my front also.” She put her arms over her head and let her generous breasts lift up towards him.
He just sat there looking at her. He was not a virgin by a long shot, but having spent his entire life in the back woods of this coast, he had only sampled the offerings of local girls and a couple of bored housewives. None of them were what was displayed for him right now. He did not know who she was or where she came from, but she was unbelievable, and she was offering herself to him. He had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted this woman.
He first indulged himself in those breasts being submitted to him in the sunlight. What oil was left he used to roll and squeeze and bring the tips to rosy peaks. He lowered his head and took one in his mouth. He felt her arch her back to push the tip deeper. He ran his hand down into the curls on her mound and, taking a finger, he pushed into her female lips, so hot and then into her core with a finger so needy to feel her.
* * * *
She had responded so well to his rugged hands until she was aware that there was no heat from her body. She lay there, letting him have his fill of her, feeling nothing. No tingle from his sucking on her breast, no warmth as he pushed against her nub with the palm of his hand and, most important, no moisture as his finger probed inside her. She was thankful he had the oils still on his hands, as it hid the lack of response from her body. So, what had happened the other night was a fluke.
She had to do something to get this guy off and out of here. “Sweetheart, I have a great big reward for you for oiling me up. Lean back and relax.” She pushed him back against the pillows at the other end of the lounge. At first, she saw a frown appear on his forehead, but when her hand went to his zipper, she saw him begin to relax and by the time she had his cock untangled from his pants and briefs, he was smiling. She turned and, on her knees, she allowed her long hair to drop
over his stomach and knees.
She then gave him the best blow job he had ever experienced and probably ever would. She used her clever tongue to lick the small slit at the top and then to trace around the head. She followed the fat vein underneath with kisses and light nips and her tongue until she got to the fur at the base. She reached in and pulled his balls out, took one in her mouth, pulled heavily, and she heard him moan loudly. She worked her way back up the shaft, locking a hand around it, as she had enough room, then the other hand until she had him in a two fisted grip, and she was at the top.
She licked the teardrop that was at the slit and opened her mouth and slowly, oh so slowly, wrapped her lips around it to bring it into her warmth. She sucked hard just on that much, moving her hands up and down and feeling him moving up the scale of release as he continued to moan. Then she did what few women could do, she unlocked her gag reflex and took him deeper and deeper, removing each hand as she took him into her throat, and she heard him cussing deep in his chest. She moved her head up and down almost to the top and then all the way down on the shaft, and when she knew he was going to come, she squeezed his balls tightly to let his liquid jet directly down her throat without tasting any of it.
With his last groan, she pulled away, stood up, and took up her bathrobe, tying it around her. She walked to the railing of the deck, looked towards the back of the lot towards the Gulf, and saw storm clouds off in the distance.
He finally was able to get himself together, and after a time he got up to come and stand beside her. This was always the hard part. Letting them know that this was a one-time only. He was disappointed and made promises and pleaded a little and then got mad and finally left in a huff. She hoped this would not interfere with her groceries in the future.
She spent the next few days walking and talking to herself. She got very little sleep. She walked in the edge of the water. She had never learned to swim. Being raised and living inland in the large dry state of Texas did not really give a person much chance unless you wanted to get into dirty cattle watering holes. Then, her jobs left her sleeping all day as she performed or entertained all night, so she never felt an interest to learn to swim.
But the gentle waves and soft slope of the sand on the Gulf beach did not worry her, and she had no intention of wading in beyond getting her feet wet. One evening, enjoying the cool breeze and dressed warm, she wandered further down the beach than usual. Here, she found the remains of someone’s picnic area.
She looked around and then saw the footprints and the mark of where a boat had been pulled up. Evidently, someone had come in and built a fire and relaxed on the deserted beach for a few hours and then left. She approved of the fact that they had cleaned up, as she did not find anything left behind except the remnants of their fire.
They had piled together a small bunch of driftwood and banked a sand wall around it, and there were embers still glowing as the last of the wood sputtered and caught in small updrafts to make a nice evening glow. She sat down in one of the dry spots left from one of their towels that they had taken and laid back to look at the stars as they began to take their place in the sky above.
She was sleepy and not surprised, as she had only caught naps for several days. Thinking that she was fairly safe on this stretch of beach, she allowed herself to relax and even sleep for a few minutes. She caught a whiff of smoke, and it had the most unusual smell, not damp driftwood, but the strange odor of sandalwood and cinnamon and something richer. She took a deeper breath, drawing the smell into her, and drifted.
She felt a breath on her ear. It was warm and male, and she waited. Then, around the breath, she heard a whisper.
“You need to stroke yourself for me.”
She lay still, not wanting to break the magic of the dream. Finally, she could not resist. She placed her hand down between her legs and pushed against the denim shorts. She had tried masturbation until she made herself sore with no results, but in this dream, the touch of the seam of her shorts against her body felt good. She immediately felt heat and a response.
Again, she felt the breath on her ear.
“It would be better if you could feel your finger on your body. Open your clothes for me.”
This time, the breath did not go away. The warm breathing continued to move against her ear and her neck.
As if it were not her body, her hands unzipped her shorts and, raising her hips, she pushed her shorts and pants down. She felt the cold sand on her bottom, but it was erotic, sending a pulse through her system. She returned her hands to her mound, then, using one hand to pull her lips apart, she found the bloated nub with the other. Her first touch sent bolts of fire up her body. She pushed her fingers down and sucked in as she felt moisture seeping. Yes, she was responding.
“Oh yes, sweet one, that is what I want. I smell your sex. Use your hand. Make yourself come for me.”
She felt the breath hotter and hotter with the whispered words and then, as she pumped her fingers into her core and twisted her anguished nub, she felt a scalding tongue lick the swirl of her ear and she came with a bolt of lightning behind her eyes, and the air in her body totally knocked out of her. She did not think she had had an orgasm as bold as this one in years.
She lay motionless, eyes still closed, the smell of the smoke sweet as she choked to get air into her starved lungs. She slowly revived and opened her eyes from the dream, but she was aware that her hands were on her split lips with one leg cocked open. She felt her own moisture and knew that she had reached an orgasm. She looked down and saw her shorts down around her ankles and slowly pulled her clothes back up as she weakly got up.
Okay, she could not reach an orgasm with a partner, but she could reach the best she had ever had since she walked into her neighbor’s house years ago. As the beach air blew over her, she gave a shiver, and she rubbed her ear. It was wet. She looked around. She could see for several yards, and there was no one. There were no new footprints. The old ones from the earlier picnickers were half full of blowing sand.
Chapter Four
If her sleeping habits were bad before, now she kissed her bed goodbye. She huddled over pots of coffee and lost track of time. She refused to walk the beach, and she found a couple of dried up sandwiches, but she did not know when she had ate last. So…she was actually going nuts, crazy, what were all the technical terms?
She logged onto her laptop to find out what day it was and what time it was. Okay, Tuesday, and only two in the afternoon. She took a quick shower, dressed comfortably in jeans and a loose shirt, and took off for town.
She made a pass by the University, it was a small one, and then found an entrance for the guest parking for her Jeep. She got out and grabbed a backpack to carry as she walked up towards a large building. Stopping the first guy she saw, she asked for the location of the library. He pointed it out, and no one paid any attention to another student looking for research material. That is, except for the ones who did a double take and smiled too often at her.
She was left alone except for a couple of interested jocks, but she blew them off and found the Medical/Psychiatric section. She glanced through a few books and took several to one of the central desks. She started looking for results of loss of bodily functions and also reactions to dreams. There was one book on loss of senses and another on dreams, so she put these two in her backpack, and she got up and put the rest of the books back where she found them. She put the backpack on. She waited until a group of students were all leaving together and hoped that no alarm would be triggered by her books. Sometimes there was a marker in a book that prevented people taking it without a pass. No one questioned or stopped her, just another student. She made it to her car unnoticed except for a few whistles.
She spent the next few days and nights reading the books, checking the internet, and she still came away completely confused. She was convinced she was slipping over the edge and would end up in one of those homes where you drooled and were pushed around in wheelchairs.
She got a notice that she had a buddy on her e-voice. She was surprised as she had turned her phone off and had ignored her email. She checked and found it was Carol. She clicked on the cam and answered and saw Carol in her office.
“My God, Asa, I was just about to send the sheriff out. We could not contact you, and I have been so worried.”
Asa looked at her friend sitting in her office. “Sorry, hon, I have really been out of it.”
“Well, shit, you look terrible. I thought you were going out there to rest and relax. You look like you have been fighting all the bad guys and losing.”
“Carol, I think I am losing something, but it is not a fight, it is my mind.”
“You know what, I need a couple of days off, so I am coming out. I am bringing some baked goods from Nukes, and we will have a sleepover.”
She looked at the screen after Carol signed off and sighed. Well, she wasn’t sleeping anyway, so she might as well not sleep with a friend.
Carol had a trunk full of food, baskets of fruit, baked goods, and gourmet coffee and tea, and a cooler with sliced cheeses and meats. They sat in PJs on the porch with a low fire after they put away the food. She had eaten something, and once she started, she had eaten a lot.
Carol looked at the books on the cushions. “What is this all about?”
