The Beast Within II

wolves

Hello, dear readers!
Apologies for the extended absence.  A paucity of quality submissions led me to withdraw from blogging for a time.  This website, I should remind you, will only be as good as the offerings you send in!  So write me; even a quick little note is welcome!

The long wait, I dare say, was worth it.  Christina writes:

I dreamed that Reginald was sliding warm hands slowly up my inner thighs.  His firm grip moved slowly, inexorably towards my center.  His steady patience was seductive, simultaneously soothing and exciting.  Feeling safe and desired, still half asleep, I stretched then spread my legs, allowing him access.  Still he did not hurry.  As the warmth of his long, strong fingers neared my sex, my excitement built up pressure.  I could feel myself getting wetter.  I moaned sleepily, tilting my pelvis in anticipation.

Full awareness arrived as his hands found my pussy and pressed down with their heat.  Raising my hips, I felt no resistance, no weight of hands.  It was enough to confuse me and I swam lazily into wakefulness.  The blankets were a tangled mess, thrown aside sometime in the night.  I muzzily recalled that sharing a bed with Reggie had been very like sleeping with a roaring furnace.  After our… exercise… of the night before, we had both been overheated.  Cuddling had been out of the question.

Reggie, however, was nowhere to be seen.  Those fingers?  Sunlight, streaming in through the windows, creeping slowly over my naked legs.
God, it must be nearly noon!
Ashley!

All I can say in my defense is that my first thought, after full awareness returned, was for my son.  Here I am, lazing in bed in the home of a near total stranger (strange doesn’t even begin to describe him!) after a night of downright freaky animal sex, while my teenage son might be god knows where!  Ash is a sweetheart, but his heart wasn’t in his schooling, and lately I’d been worried he was spending too much time with the wrong crowd.  I had a sneaking suspicion his recent sullenness and withdrawal had something to do with his absent father, but despite how close I’ve always been with my son, drawing him out on the subject was proving nearly impossible.

I jumped out of bed, scrabbling for my scattered clothing.  While I searched, I berated myself.  I was constantly demanding to know where Ashley had been, who he’d been hanging out with, forever insisting he give me more information so I can keep tabs on him.  But look at me!  Vanishing one afternoon without so much as a note or a quick text to let him know I’d be home late.  Or not at all.
I was such a hypocrite!

What day was it?  Saturday?  Okay, at least he wouldn’t be able to cut class and blame me for not getting him out of bed.  Ash regularly stayed out late on Friday nights and slept til noon if left alone.  If I was lucky, he’d still be sleeping when I got home, and simply assume I’d been in bed when he got back last night.

Stuffing the last bit of my lingerie into my purse, I stepped into the en suite and quickly arranged myself.  On my way out the door I nearly collided with Reggie.  His arms were laden with a massive tray of breakfast things.  He took me in with a look, and there was nothing I could say in my defense.  It was obvious I was in a rush to be gone.  Stoic as always, he simply set the tray aside and folded his arms, cocking one eyebrow.  It was like he cocked a bow instead.  His look pierced me just like an arrow, accusing.

I didn’t have the time to explain.  I’ve always believed actions speak louder than words, so I smiled brightly and threw my arms around his neck.  The kiss I gave him was deep and genuinely passionate.  He held me stiffly, at first, then relaxed as it became apparent my ardor wasn’t feigned.  Truly, it wasn’t!  All I had to do was think of last night, and oh my god…
Any dog could follow the scent of that trail.
“I’ll be in touch,” I whispered breathlessly, and left before he could change my mind.
“Good,” he said.  The rumbling thunder of his voice tickled my clit deliciously as I fled.

Reg had picked me up last night, so my car was still at home.  He lived on a rambling old place tucked away behind a heavily forested stretch of parkland.  The nature reserve went on for miles, but it was liberally laced with well-maintained trails.  The time of year was right for a walk in the woods.  The leaves had just begun changing color, and those that had already fallen crunched underfoot as I wound my way home.  I knew these trails well; I grew up in the area and I can take credit for forging some of these paths with my papa, back when I was just a wee mud-spattered little forest sprite with twigs tangled in my hair.

My own home looked out onto the same parkland, more or less.  The forest had been cut back slowly, over the years, to make way for progress, so there was now my neighbor’s yard and a street to cross to get home.  Our town was still small, but it was growing steadily.  The oldsters would sit on the porch of the Post Office Cafe and complain of the traffic, but even they knew we were blessed with serenity here.  They just liked to grumble, and why not blame the tourists and their cars for all the town’s problems?  In a town this small, you can’t go picking fights with your neighbors, or soon enough everyone is involved.

I could see that my nosy neighbor, Rosemary, was home.  She was standing in her kitchen staring out the window.  For a moment I worried that she had been waiting for me to appear out of the trees beyond her backyard fence, but then she turned and vanished deeper into the house.  I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding and hastily hopped her fence and crossed the yard.  Her little dog, Puddin’, yawned hugely as I passed the sunny spot where he was napping.  His only acknowledgement as I passed was to huff a disappointed sigh when I didn’t stop to scratch behind his ears.

Finally, home.  I let myself in the front door, quietly, and made my way to the kitchen where I put on a pot of coffee.  While I waited for the percolator to gurgle out some much needed caffeine (I hadn’t slept much last night, after all), I thought about what I might say should my son question my absence.  Nothing came to mind, unfortunately.
I sighed.  It might be time to sit down and have a heart to heart with him.  At sixteen he was fast becoming a man.  More and more I saw his father in him, in his choices and behavior, in the way he valued my input less and less.  I needed him to know that I loved him, that I was doing my best for him… and that I wouldn’t blame him if he decided he needed the guidance and influence of a man in his life.  Just… don’t let it be your father!  Anyone but him, please!
My god, how could I ask him that?
I was having trouble remembering why I hurried home.  It would have been so easy to stay with Reg and forget my own problems for the day.  Ash was a teenager.  He probably wouldn’t even notice I was gone, except to be glad not to have me harping at him about chores and homework.  Was I trying too hard with him?  Was he old enough now to be making his own decisions?  Learning from his own mistakes?  As parents we try so hard to guide our children away from all the foolish trouble we created for ourselves when we were their age, but inevitably… they repeat most of those mistakes anyway.  And all we can do is shake our heads and say, “I told you so,” and hope they pay more attention to our warnings next time.  Is it human nature to ignore well-meaning advice and guidance?  Or is it just human nature that the hard lessons are the ones that stick the most?

The distinct sound of pleasure broke me from my reverie.  The coffee was done percolating, and in the quiet I strained my ears.
Yes, there it was again.  A muffled gasping.  Breathless whispers.
I was making just those same sounds myself not twelve hours ago.
Did Ashley have a girl over?
So he did know I was gone!
Who was she?  He’d never really talked about girls before.  One more thing a single mother has trouble with, raising a son.  I guess his father would have sat down with him over video games and they could’ve grunted out some monosyllabic dialogue:
“So…”
“So?”
“Got a girl.”
“Huh.”
Long silence punctuated by the sound of gunfire and growling zombies, or perhaps the rev of engines.  Some manly game.
“She cute?”
“Heh!”  He’s grinning.
“Niiice.”
“Thanks.”
Another long pause.  They chug cola and stuff nacho cheese Doritos into their mouths.
“Be safe.”
“Course.”
“Good.”
And that would be that.  I could only hope his father would have the sense to remind him to use a condom…
But there I go, being a hypocrite again.  What did I really know about Reginald?  Was last night safe, at all?  It sure didn’t feel that way.  But wasn’t that the whole point?  Wasn’t that the thrill?  We hadn’t used a condom, and he had come inside me more than once.  I doubt they make condoms big enough, anyway…

I couldn’t restrain my curiosity any longer.  Who was she?  How did they meet?  How long have they been dating?  Is she pretty?  Is she polite?  Who are her parents?  What do they do for a living?  Who are her friends?  What are they like?
These things are important!  I couldn’t just pretend like it wasn’t happening!
Cautiously, I made my way out of the kitchen to the front foyer.  There, I stood at the bottom of the stairs and listened.  Faintly, the sound of a creaking bedframe and the passionate couple’s mingled cries of pleasure drifted down to me.
I realized I was still holding my coffee mug and put it down on the bannister.  Slowly, stealthily, I made my way up the stairs.

The sounds grew louder as I reached the hall at the top of the stairs and made my way towards Ashley’s bedroom.  It was at the back of the hall on the left, and looked out over the backyard.  They wouldn’t have known, had they been looking out the window, that I had come home.  Clearly they had been too distracted to hear me open the front door, or to notice the coffee rattling and burping away.
I paused outside the bedroom door.  It was slightly ajar.  I knew, because of the size of his room (it was the largest in the house) and the position of the door, that I should be able to peer through the crack between doorjamb and door and see a wide swath of bedroom, including his bed in the far corner.  Furiously, I debated with myself.  Did I really want to spy on my son having sex?  What would I say if I was caught?
My resolve wavered.  I nearly turned around to go back downstairs.
But then she gasped and cried out, “Oh, Gordon!” and I froze.  Gordon was his middle name.  He hated his middle name!  Curiosity raged through me like a fire and before I could even consider if what I was doing was wrong my eye was pressed against the crack of the door.

He was red faced and grimacing, flat on his back beneath her.  She sat astride him, her back to me, a lithe, milk white girl with the long, coltish legs of youth.  Despite her young age, she had quite a little booty on her, and she was bouncing it vigorously up and down.  The wet slapping of their bodies was punctuated by her whimpering, mewling gasps as she breathlessly begged him to cum inside her.  She raised her slim pale arms over her head and buried her hands deep in her long, luxurious mass of raven hair.  When she arched her back those long black locks brushed the swell of her buttocks, and I took in her large, firm breasts and exotic profile.  Truly, my son had done well for himself, if one were judging purely on looks.  This little vixen was custom built for desire, an energetic, passionate, and sultry little thing.
She squealed then, curled forward, and her hair fell over my son’s face.  It’s just as well.  I had noticed the way his hands gripped the bed covers, rather than her thighs or waist.  I had seen that look of furious concentration on his face.  He wasn’t entirely comfortable with having sex yet, and that was a relief to me.  It meant he hadn’t been sneaking away to have sex very often.  This might even be his first time!  He deserved some privacy for his first time.  I didn’t want to see the look on his face as he spent himself inside her…
Inside her?
Good god, no!
His back arched and he thrust upwards with a groan as I barged into the room.
“Ashley Gordon!” I screeched, “What are you thinking?!”
The girl shrieked hysterically as I dragged her off my son, but the damage was done.  His ejaculate dripped from the compact folds of her bare little cunt (Waxed smooth!  At that age!), and he was too late to cover himself as a final spurt landed on his belly.  He scrambled for the blankets, and I thought he would hide beneath them like he used to when he was small and I was angry with him.
Instead, to his credit and my utter surprise, he stepped from the bed as if I wasn’t there at all and threw the blanket around the girl, who was crouched defensively where I had dumped her on the floor.  He was not quick enough to hide the livid purple bruises that were already rising where I had gripped her upper arms.  Then he stood and pointed wordlessly at the door.  His still-hard cock mimicked the gesture.  With both hands pressed to my mouth to stifle sobs or screams, I know not which, I ran from the room.

At the bottom of the stairs, my elbow clipped my coffee mug and it crashed against the front door, shattering and spraying coffee across the foyer.  In a panic I tore a shawl from the foyer closet and began to blot it up, frantic with embarassment and anger and fear for my son and for this unknown girl.  Didn’t they realize?  Didn’t they understand?  I had been about the same age as her when I had become pregnant with Ashley!  Tony had been a stupid, thoughtless teenage boy when he had knocked me up!  Just like his stupid, thoughtless teenage son!  God, where had I gone wrong?  If she was pregnant, their lives were over, and so help me, I wouldn’t be bailing him out of this one!  He knew what was at stake!  All his life he’d had me as an example, he knew what I had gone through to raise him!  Did he think it would be easier for him, that he would be able to face the hard choices his own father had run away from?

Tears were streaming freely down my face when the pale girl stepped carefully around me and opened the front door.  Ashley maneuvered himself between me and her and carefully cleared his throat.  It wasn’t until he knelt down next to me and gently took the sopping shawl from my hands that I looked up at them.

Her self-posession and dignity were impressive.  Intimidating, even.  She looked down at me and I felt I was looking only at the vessel; the contents were far away.  But she stayed there, quietly watching, as Ashley turned my face to meet his eyes and said:
“Mom, I’m sorry.  This isn’t how I pictured you meeting her.  But it’s done now, so you might as well be introduced.”

I turned my stunned stare back to the girl, who smiled tentatively and extended her hand.  Her smile was bouyant, despite everything.  What I had taken to be restraint now seemed shyness, embarassment, and it restored a measure of my self-control.  I was once more the adult here.  I stood and brushed myself off, then took her hand firmly.  It was warm and dry.  She tried to meet my eyes but faltered and glanced down as my nostrils flared involuntarily – she and Ashley reeked of sex.  The tops of her cheeks turned a very pretty pink.  How long had they been going at it?

Ashley was oblivious to this interplay.

“Mom,” he said, “I’d like you to meet Intimacy.  Macy, this is my mom, Christina.”

*IMAGE FROM INTERNET*

Write me at:
eonserotica@gmail.com
or fill out the form below!

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s