| Dream Girls by Shaun Ryan |
One of these days, Matthew Waters thought, he would meet his dream girl. She
would be beautiful. Maybe one of those petite types might suit him better than an
Amazon wanna-be like Kelly. Anyone would suit him better than Kelly.
He guided the Jeep along the narrow forest road. Towering evergreens loomed like
silent sentinels, obscured by ghostly trailers of mist that crept between their dark
trunks. He leaned forward and peered into the early morning gloom. He nodded in
affirmation. Definitely beautiful and petite.
She would give him what he wanted without trying to take over his life.
He rounded a sharp curve and discovered a cow moose glaring at him from the
road ahead. A calf frolicked in the brush a few feet away.
His dream girl would listen to him once in a while instead of inundating him with
inane chatter about her new nail polish or how her mother nagged her about the
lack of husband and children or if her new dress made her look fat.
would be beautiful. Maybe one of those petite types might suit him better than an
Amazon wanna-be like Kelly. Anyone would suit him better than Kelly.
He guided the Jeep along the narrow forest road. Towering evergreens loomed like
silent sentinels, obscured by ghostly trailers of mist that crept between their dark
trunks. He leaned forward and peered into the early morning gloom. He nodded in
affirmation. Definitely beautiful and petite.
She would give him what he wanted without trying to take over his life.
He rounded a sharp curve and discovered a cow moose glaring at him from the
road ahead. A calf frolicked in the brush a few feet away.
His dream girl would listen to him once in a while instead of inundating him with
inane chatter about her new nail polish or how her mother nagged her about the
lack of husband and children or if her new dress made her look fat.
Matthew eased to a stop fifty yards from the
huge animal and raised his camera. A grin lit
his face at the calf's antics.
Yeah right, he thought with a snort of
disgust. Dream girls only exist in dreams.
The mini-moose pranced through the
wildflowers beside the road, stopped
suddenly, intent upon the clump of bear
grass between its splayed forelegs. With a
sneeze and a toss of the head, it took off
again. It bucked wildly, splashed into a
huge animal and raised his camera. A grin lit
his face at the calf's antics.
Yeah right, he thought with a snort of
disgust. Dream girls only exist in dreams.
The mini-moose pranced through the
wildflowers beside the road, stopped
suddenly, intent upon the clump of bear
grass between its splayed forelegs. With a
sneeze and a toss of the head, it took off
again. It bucked wildly, splashed into a
puddle at its mother's feet, halted once more and stared in Matthew's direction.
The cow gave a huffing snort and her offspring resumed its romp. Mama stamped
her foot in warning, glared at Matthew, and trotted into the timber, calf orbiting
like a furry satellite.
Matthew guffawed.
He put the Jeep in gear and resumed his trek, glad the thousand-pound epitome of
protective motherhood hadn't decided to charge the Jeep. He placed the battered
old Minolta on the passenger seat. Some of the previous week's tension left him,
exhaled with his laughter. He forgot about Kelly and her tirade about his
insensitivity and selfishness, vowed to leave her behind as he had meant to do
when he walked out of her apartment for the last time.
You selfish prick! Everything isn't always about you!
He saw her standing in the living room, dripping from the shower, towel clamped
under armpits, auburn hair plastered to flushed cheeks, as she delivered her final
rant. Matthew wondered why she had always made it about him if that was true,
why she made it less about her needs and more about his shortcomings.
The girls from his dreams never pointed out his shortcomings, never said anything
at all. They just loved him, good and hard. As far back as he remembered he had
dreamt of the perfect woman taking his hand and leading him to some snug bower,
leaving the cares and worries of the world behind, loving him.
The road wound further into the foothills of the Swan Range, snaking its way to the
foot of a massive ridge, where it dead-ended in a small parking area situated on a
bench that offered a wide view. Matthew parked the Jeep and killed the engine. He
climbed out, stretching his back and legs. A sign beside the trailhead warned that
only foot or horse traffic was permitted beyond this point. He turned to survey the
route he had just traveled and caught his breath.
Beyond the shadow of the ridge, the valley lay awash with morning light. Foothills
marched away in timbered waves. Glowing tendrils of mist ghosted among the
stately evergreens. A lake nestled like a jewel far below, sunlight sparkling on its
waters. Beyond, the towering wall of the Mission Range spanned the horizon,
massive peaks rearing into the morning sky like monoliths beneath glittering
mantles of snow. Matthew finished off the roll of film, wanting to capture the
majesty before him. He stood there a moment longer, reloading the camera, and
then turned back to the Jeep. He dug out his gear, locked the doors, and consulted
the map he had purchased in Butte.
The cow gave a huffing snort and her offspring resumed its romp. Mama stamped
her foot in warning, glared at Matthew, and trotted into the timber, calf orbiting
like a furry satellite.
Matthew guffawed.
He put the Jeep in gear and resumed his trek, glad the thousand-pound epitome of
protective motherhood hadn't decided to charge the Jeep. He placed the battered
old Minolta on the passenger seat. Some of the previous week's tension left him,
exhaled with his laughter. He forgot about Kelly and her tirade about his
insensitivity and selfishness, vowed to leave her behind as he had meant to do
when he walked out of her apartment for the last time.
You selfish prick! Everything isn't always about you!
He saw her standing in the living room, dripping from the shower, towel clamped
under armpits, auburn hair plastered to flushed cheeks, as she delivered her final
rant. Matthew wondered why she had always made it about him if that was true,
why she made it less about her needs and more about his shortcomings.
The girls from his dreams never pointed out his shortcomings, never said anything
at all. They just loved him, good and hard. As far back as he remembered he had
dreamt of the perfect woman taking his hand and leading him to some snug bower,
leaving the cares and worries of the world behind, loving him.
The road wound further into the foothills of the Swan Range, snaking its way to the
foot of a massive ridge, where it dead-ended in a small parking area situated on a
bench that offered a wide view. Matthew parked the Jeep and killed the engine. He
climbed out, stretching his back and legs. A sign beside the trailhead warned that
only foot or horse traffic was permitted beyond this point. He turned to survey the
route he had just traveled and caught his breath.
Beyond the shadow of the ridge, the valley lay awash with morning light. Foothills
marched away in timbered waves. Glowing tendrils of mist ghosted among the
stately evergreens. A lake nestled like a jewel far below, sunlight sparkling on its
waters. Beyond, the towering wall of the Mission Range spanned the horizon,
massive peaks rearing into the morning sky like monoliths beneath glittering
mantles of snow. Matthew finished off the roll of film, wanting to capture the
majesty before him. He stood there a moment longer, reloading the camera, and
then turned back to the Jeep. He dug out his gear, locked the doors, and consulted
the map he had purchased in Butte.
Staring at the view between glances at the
map, he eased from beneath the load of anger
and loathing he'd been carrying ever since
Lambert, his extremely under qualified and
extremely stacked former co-associate, had
landed the partnership that should have been
his. He snorted, remembering someone's
mumbled comment about her.
map, he eased from beneath the load of anger
and loathing he'd been carrying ever since
Lambert, his extremely under qualified and
extremely stacked former co-associate, had
landed the partnership that should have been
his. He snorted, remembering someone's
mumbled comment about her.
"No doubt she gives great head, but do you think she swallows?"
Nine months of busting his ass and kissing Masters', doing his scut work and much
of his client work as well, all for nothing, had driven him to the edge, as had the
gleam of triumph in Lambert's eyes as she shook his hand and offered a cold smile.
Matthew shivered.
The trail he was about to embark upon climbed through a narrow pass and
descended into the valley beyond. The broken red line on the map wound its way
to the south fork of the Flathead River, upon the banks of which he wanted to
make his camp. He shrugged into his backpack, secured the waist belt, checked to
be sure he hadn't forgotten anything, and took a final look at the scenery before
starting up the trail.
His overbearing, Armani-clad pig of a boss faded from his mind, as did the
lascivious look he directed at Lambert's swaying ass as she walked away. Letting
go of the boiling hatred he had felt for days, Matthew decided that this vacation
made a nice alternative to a drawn-out murder trial followed by long incarceration.
The latest dream featuring his latest fantasy girl--a petite blonde with mischievous
eyes and a bitchin' bod--replayed itself in his mind.
Nine months of busting his ass and kissing Masters', doing his scut work and much
of his client work as well, all for nothing, had driven him to the edge, as had the
gleam of triumph in Lambert's eyes as she shook his hand and offered a cold smile.
Matthew shivered.
The trail he was about to embark upon climbed through a narrow pass and
descended into the valley beyond. The broken red line on the map wound its way
to the south fork of the Flathead River, upon the banks of which he wanted to
make his camp. He shrugged into his backpack, secured the waist belt, checked to
be sure he hadn't forgotten anything, and took a final look at the scenery before
starting up the trail.
His overbearing, Armani-clad pig of a boss faded from his mind, as did the
lascivious look he directed at Lambert's swaying ass as she walked away. Letting
go of the boiling hatred he had felt for days, Matthew decided that this vacation
made a nice alternative to a drawn-out murder trial followed by long incarceration.
The latest dream featuring his latest fantasy girl--a petite blonde with mischievous
eyes and a bitchin' bod--replayed itself in his mind.
| ### |
The sun angled toward the ridge as Matthew made his way down slope through a
grove of larch. Traversing the pass had taken much longer than he'd anticipated.
He checked his watch, confident that he could make it to the river by nightfall, but
he felt no desire to set up his camp in the dark. He stopped where a new path split
from the main trail and dug out his map, deciding to find a place to camp for the
night. In the morning he could make his way to the river and find that dream spot.
A mosquito whined in his ear. Matthew slapped it away and studied the map, which
depicted only the main trail. He looked up.
It continued toward the valley floor. The new one split off to the south, following
the contour of the hill. He could see perhaps fifty yards of its needle strewn length
before it fell out of sight. Though narrow, it was obviously a hiking path.
Matthew pondered a moment, thinking of the dream, the girl, and chose the
unknown, tired of walking down the steep hill. He smiled and began humming a
mangled version of “Yellow Brick Road” as he resumed his hike. He would see
where this new trail led. Part of the charm of backpacking was taking the road less
traveled, after all.
It wound along the shoulder of the hill, dipping into a swale and skirting a tangled
alder thicket. Matthew could hear the gurgle of a spring in the snarled mass of
brush. He continued on for a mile until he rounded a small promontory and
stopped short.
Magnificent old-growth firs carpeted the valley below, towering pine and larch
scattered among them. In the center of this hoary wood, a little glade beckoned. A
stand of aspen bigger than any he had ever seen shivered in the breeze next to a
small pond, stark white trunks shining in the afternoon sun. Above it all towered a
monumental willow, standing half again as tall as the surrounding evergreens,
broad as its height. Long, whip-like branches trailed nearly to the ground, waving
in the breeze and partially concealing a trunk large enough for a tunnel to have
been bored through. A euphoric grin lit Matthew's features. He had found the
campsite of his dreams after all.
Matthew descended into the valley and walked through open woods toward the
glade, marveling at the huge trees surrounding him. No brush clogged the spaces
between the massive boles. A soft mat of needles cushioned his steps. No birds
sang. No squirrels scolded him from the branches above. The breeze sighed
through the ancient evergreens. Massive trunks sprouted beards of moss and
lichen. No deadwood littered the forest floor and no disease marred any tree. He
shivered, wondering why such beauty and perfection should send a trickle of
unease slithering through him. The dark trees loomed. He turned and found the
woods crowding his heels, seemingly much thicker than he remembered. He saw
no sign of the broad, clear path he had followed.
His unease thickened as he stopped and stared back the way he had come. A wave
of weariness washed over him as he took a step toward the wall of timber. His feet
suddenly felt like they weighed a ton. He stopped again and turned toward the
clearing. The instant his gaze took in the verdant meadow that winked like an
emerald through the intervening forest, his energy returned, greater than ever. He
turned back and grew tired once more, feeling as though centuries of trudging
through these woods had ground him to the bone. He faced forward. His spirit
soared. He sighed, shrugged, and continued on.
Minutes later, he arrived in the meadow, where thick grass and clover carpeted
the ground. The grove of stately aspen gleamed. The pond sparkled in the
afternoon sun. Birdsong broke the silence of the wood, joined by crickets. A frog
croaked from the tall reeds at the pond's edge.
Matthew smiled. His unease and weariness fell away amid the calming splendor
before him as he headed for the gargantuan willow. The otherworldly tree called to
him. When he reached it, he slipped off his pack and stepped under the canopy of
trailing limbs. The deep shade caressed him with cool fingers, almost chilly. He
went to the trunk and laid a hand upon it. A feeling of peace and contentment
came over him, followed by a rush of lust. The fissured bark under his fingers felt
suddenly warm and supple, almost like flesh. The thought sent a tingle through his
loins.
grove of larch. Traversing the pass had taken much longer than he'd anticipated.
He checked his watch, confident that he could make it to the river by nightfall, but
he felt no desire to set up his camp in the dark. He stopped where a new path split
from the main trail and dug out his map, deciding to find a place to camp for the
night. In the morning he could make his way to the river and find that dream spot.
A mosquito whined in his ear. Matthew slapped it away and studied the map, which
depicted only the main trail. He looked up.
It continued toward the valley floor. The new one split off to the south, following
the contour of the hill. He could see perhaps fifty yards of its needle strewn length
before it fell out of sight. Though narrow, it was obviously a hiking path.
Matthew pondered a moment, thinking of the dream, the girl, and chose the
unknown, tired of walking down the steep hill. He smiled and began humming a
mangled version of “Yellow Brick Road” as he resumed his hike. He would see
where this new trail led. Part of the charm of backpacking was taking the road less
traveled, after all.
It wound along the shoulder of the hill, dipping into a swale and skirting a tangled
alder thicket. Matthew could hear the gurgle of a spring in the snarled mass of
brush. He continued on for a mile until he rounded a small promontory and
stopped short.
Magnificent old-growth firs carpeted the valley below, towering pine and larch
scattered among them. In the center of this hoary wood, a little glade beckoned. A
stand of aspen bigger than any he had ever seen shivered in the breeze next to a
small pond, stark white trunks shining in the afternoon sun. Above it all towered a
monumental willow, standing half again as tall as the surrounding evergreens,
broad as its height. Long, whip-like branches trailed nearly to the ground, waving
in the breeze and partially concealing a trunk large enough for a tunnel to have
been bored through. A euphoric grin lit Matthew's features. He had found the
campsite of his dreams after all.
Matthew descended into the valley and walked through open woods toward the
glade, marveling at the huge trees surrounding him. No brush clogged the spaces
between the massive boles. A soft mat of needles cushioned his steps. No birds
sang. No squirrels scolded him from the branches above. The breeze sighed
through the ancient evergreens. Massive trunks sprouted beards of moss and
lichen. No deadwood littered the forest floor and no disease marred any tree. He
shivered, wondering why such beauty and perfection should send a trickle of
unease slithering through him. The dark trees loomed. He turned and found the
woods crowding his heels, seemingly much thicker than he remembered. He saw
no sign of the broad, clear path he had followed.
His unease thickened as he stopped and stared back the way he had come. A wave
of weariness washed over him as he took a step toward the wall of timber. His feet
suddenly felt like they weighed a ton. He stopped again and turned toward the
clearing. The instant his gaze took in the verdant meadow that winked like an
emerald through the intervening forest, his energy returned, greater than ever. He
turned back and grew tired once more, feeling as though centuries of trudging
through these woods had ground him to the bone. He faced forward. His spirit
soared. He sighed, shrugged, and continued on.
Minutes later, he arrived in the meadow, where thick grass and clover carpeted
the ground. The grove of stately aspen gleamed. The pond sparkled in the
afternoon sun. Birdsong broke the silence of the wood, joined by crickets. A frog
croaked from the tall reeds at the pond's edge.
Matthew smiled. His unease and weariness fell away amid the calming splendor
before him as he headed for the gargantuan willow. The otherworldly tree called to
him. When he reached it, he slipped off his pack and stepped under the canopy of
trailing limbs. The deep shade caressed him with cool fingers, almost chilly. He
went to the trunk and laid a hand upon it. A feeling of peace and contentment
came over him, followed by a rush of lust. The fissured bark under his fingers felt
suddenly warm and supple, almost like flesh. The thought sent a tingle through his
loins.
After a moment, he stepped back and peered up
into the branches. A boyish yearning to climb
struck him. He realized that he had seen the tree
in a dream as well, though he couldn't remember
when. He sighed and turned, stepped from
beneath its canopy to his pack, and began to
make camp. Matthew pitched his tent, spread a
wool blanket in front of the entrance, placed a
collapsible chair before it, and prepared dinner
for himself on his high-tech camp stove. He lit
the small lamp he carried and ate with gusto.
After, he dug a box of expensive Turkish
cigarettes from his pack and lit up, content.
into the branches. A boyish yearning to climb
struck him. He realized that he had seen the tree
in a dream as well, though he couldn't remember
when. He sighed and turned, stepped from
beneath its canopy to his pack, and began to
make camp. Matthew pitched his tent, spread a
wool blanket in front of the entrance, placed a
collapsible chair before it, and prepared dinner
for himself on his high-tech camp stove. He lit
the small lamp he carried and ate with gusto.
After, he dug a box of expensive Turkish
cigarettes from his pack and lit up, content.
Thoughts of the redhead he had picked up at the gym on the way home that day
after the meeting floated through his head, erotic little ghosts. He smiled at the
memory of the pallid afternoon light gleaming on her sweat slicked back and ass as
she bucked against him. What had her name been? He shrugged. It didn't matter.
She had squelched all hope of doing her again when he turned down her offer for a
date later that week and informed her that she wasn't exactly the kind of girl he
could take home to his parents. But she had provided a distraction from, not to
mention an outlet for, his resentment and smoldering anger at Lambert and
women in general. Matthew wondered why they all seemed to turn out to be
psycho in some way. Kelly and her constant, hidden needs that she refused to
share until they hadn't been met, both their mothers, his with her cold What should
I do, dear? Go see a therapist! detachment, hers with her smothering, overbearing
love. Even the girl from the gym proved a perfect example of female psychosis.
What kind of woman glommed onto a strange man--no matter how well built,
dressed, and good looking--flirted with him shamelessly to the very door of the
women's locker room, took him home, fucked his brains out, and began scheduling
their future together before their sweat had dried? The seriously messed up kind,
that was what, which was why he had used her so hard. She'd deserved it, had
even liked the punishment, and had clearly enjoyed egging him on.
His loins stirred again and he stretched, eased to his feet and yawned.
The sun had set, but its glow lingered in the extended summer twilight. A gentle
breeze stirred the branches above him. He finished his smoke, careful to
extinguish the butt in the dirt before pocketing it, and walked to the trunk of the
old willow, which somehow glowed softly in the half-light. He reached out to touch
the tree and his fingers tingled as a feminine giggle drifted down from its boughs.
Matthew's head jerked upward and he gaped.
In the branches above perched a beautiful little blonde in a short tunic, her feet
bare. She studied Matthew intently. Her big, almond shaped eyes glittered. She
laughed again, a sound like the tinkling of little bells. Matthew smiled up at her,
entranced. The tunic she wore hugged full hips, from which lithe brown legs
descended. The tight-fitting garment barely concealed high, firm breasts, nipples
straining against the fabric. The strange woman exuded sensuality. It flowed from
her in waves. He knew her.
after the meeting floated through his head, erotic little ghosts. He smiled at the
memory of the pallid afternoon light gleaming on her sweat slicked back and ass as
she bucked against him. What had her name been? He shrugged. It didn't matter.
She had squelched all hope of doing her again when he turned down her offer for a
date later that week and informed her that she wasn't exactly the kind of girl he
could take home to his parents. But she had provided a distraction from, not to
mention an outlet for, his resentment and smoldering anger at Lambert and
women in general. Matthew wondered why they all seemed to turn out to be
psycho in some way. Kelly and her constant, hidden needs that she refused to
share until they hadn't been met, both their mothers, his with her cold What should
I do, dear? Go see a therapist! detachment, hers with her smothering, overbearing
love. Even the girl from the gym proved a perfect example of female psychosis.
What kind of woman glommed onto a strange man--no matter how well built,
dressed, and good looking--flirted with him shamelessly to the very door of the
women's locker room, took him home, fucked his brains out, and began scheduling
their future together before their sweat had dried? The seriously messed up kind,
that was what, which was why he had used her so hard. She'd deserved it, had
even liked the punishment, and had clearly enjoyed egging him on.
His loins stirred again and he stretched, eased to his feet and yawned.
The sun had set, but its glow lingered in the extended summer twilight. A gentle
breeze stirred the branches above him. He finished his smoke, careful to
extinguish the butt in the dirt before pocketing it, and walked to the trunk of the
old willow, which somehow glowed softly in the half-light. He reached out to touch
the tree and his fingers tingled as a feminine giggle drifted down from its boughs.
Matthew's head jerked upward and he gaped.
In the branches above perched a beautiful little blonde in a short tunic, her feet
bare. She studied Matthew intently. Her big, almond shaped eyes glittered. She
laughed again, a sound like the tinkling of little bells. Matthew smiled up at her,
entranced. The tunic she wore hugged full hips, from which lithe brown legs
descended. The tight-fitting garment barely concealed high, firm breasts, nipples
straining against the fabric. The strange woman exuded sensuality. It flowed from
her in waves. He knew her.
She leapt to the ground in front of him, barely
reaching his chin. Her hair cascaded to her
waist, spun honey. Pale green eyes, flecked
with gold, pierced him. The tunic she wore
moved like no fabric Matthew had ever seen.
Its mottled pattern resembled tree bark, but
the fabric proved supple, clinging enticingly to
her figure. Her scent, new spring growth
reaching his chin. Her hair cascaded to her
waist, spun honey. Pale green eyes, flecked
with gold, pierced him. The tunic she wore
moved like no fabric Matthew had ever seen.
Its mottled pattern resembled tree bark, but
the fabric proved supple, clinging enticingly to
her figure. Her scent, new spring growth
intermingled with the musky odor of a woman's arousal and some spice he could
not identify, overwhelmed him.
She placed a hand on his chest and a jolt of electricity shot through his entire body.
It felt like somone had hot-wired his nervous system, concentrating on his pleasure
centers. The sensation lasted only a second. When it passed, his loins throbbed
with the sort of erection he hadn't been able to muster for years, the sort that
ached with need, hard as an iron bar, the sort that transcended any jadedness or
boredom. He started to speak, but the woman reached up and put her finger to his
lips, her skin hot.
"Shhh," she said, taking his hand.
She led him to the blanket and gently pushed him down. Matthew didn't resist. He
couldn't believe this was happening, expected to wake up any second as she
opened his shirt and trousers. He moaned when she took him in her hand,
gooseflesh tightening his skin. She stroked him for a few seconds and then stood to
disrobe. Tanned limbs shone in the yellow light thrown by his lantern. Brown
nipples stood erect atop swollen breasts. Her taut belly and heavenly chest heaved
with excited breath.
She shivered in her heat and in one quick motion straddled him. Matthew cried
out, bucking beneath her. He moaned as the tremors of his climax subsided. She
smiled wickedly down at him. When he lay still, she began to rock gently back and
forth. She moved on him until he exploded inside her again. He sobbed, fingers
plowing little furrows in the earth at his sides.
Gradually, Matthew came back to himself and opened his eyes. He yelped in
surprise, his body jerking. The woman still straddled him. Another stood a few feet
away, watching them. She had dark hair, streaked with caramel. Gold eyes with
flecks of red around the pupils regarded him from features nearly identical to those
of the first woman, who smoothly dismounted him. He gasped and both women
giggled at his still erect member.
The brunette stepped out of her tunic and leapt on him before he could react. She
rode him more fervently than the first had and soon another world-shaking orgasm
rocked Matthew's lithe body. The minx kept pounding, milking every last drop of
his seed. He bucked and thrashed as if he had been stuck with a cattle prod, then
lay still once more, panting hard, dumbfounded. He had to be dreaming, would
open his eyes to a hangover and a mess in his shorts like he was fifteen again.
When he finally did open them, he cried out in shock.
Women, all nearly identical to the first two, surrounded him. The color of their
hair, eyes, and skin varied from one to the next, but their features and bodies
were the same; all perfect, if petite; all wearing variations of that strange tunic; all
studying him with disconcerting intensity.
The brunette eased off of him. She stood and disappeared into the crowd. Matthew
stared in stupefied amazement. Jesus, he thought, there was a crowd of them!
They couldn't all want to...
Fear trickled into his guts like dirty dishwater.
The blonde, the one he had seen in the willow, the one he had seen in his dreams,
clapped her hands together twice and a woman with red-gold hair pounced on him.
He seized her wrists and surged to his feet, adrenaline pounding through him with
the fear, lending him strength. She laughed and jerked a hand free with ease,
seized his shrinking member. Another of those electric jolts slammed through him,
sending him to his knees. He trembled, as it proved less pleasurable than the first,
almost painful. But he grew hard once more. The woman shoved him onto his
back, thrust herself onto him and began pumping her hips.
"Hey, baby," he said, trying to sit up again, still able to muster some of the
irresistible charm that had landed him in the beds of dozens of gym girls, "give me
a chance to catch...."
She slapped him hard across the face. He fell back, shocked by the sudden force of
the blow. She glared down at him in fury and continued to hammer him with her
loins. The dozens, no hundreds, of eerily similar women that now filled the clearing
giggled in unison. Matthew shuddered. The beautiful, tinkling laughter had become
a hard, metallic chorus reminiscent of rattling chains.
Yet another climax, devoid of ecstasy now, shook him as the girl ripped his seed
from him. Quick as thought, she leapt up and another took her place. Matthew
struggled weakly, to no avail. She pinned his arms to the ground and had at him.
He groaned, the sound reminding the part of his mind that remained coherent of
an old bull he had once seen being forced down the chute of a slaughterhouse.
The beautiful little blond stood by and watched, savage satisfaction burning in her
green-gold eyes.
Matthew's screams echoed through the valley, a piercing counterpoint to gales of
sparkling feminine laughter.
not identify, overwhelmed him.
She placed a hand on his chest and a jolt of electricity shot through his entire body.
It felt like somone had hot-wired his nervous system, concentrating on his pleasure
centers. The sensation lasted only a second. When it passed, his loins throbbed
with the sort of erection he hadn't been able to muster for years, the sort that
ached with need, hard as an iron bar, the sort that transcended any jadedness or
boredom. He started to speak, but the woman reached up and put her finger to his
lips, her skin hot.
"Shhh," she said, taking his hand.
She led him to the blanket and gently pushed him down. Matthew didn't resist. He
couldn't believe this was happening, expected to wake up any second as she
opened his shirt and trousers. He moaned when she took him in her hand,
gooseflesh tightening his skin. She stroked him for a few seconds and then stood to
disrobe. Tanned limbs shone in the yellow light thrown by his lantern. Brown
nipples stood erect atop swollen breasts. Her taut belly and heavenly chest heaved
with excited breath.
She shivered in her heat and in one quick motion straddled him. Matthew cried
out, bucking beneath her. He moaned as the tremors of his climax subsided. She
smiled wickedly down at him. When he lay still, she began to rock gently back and
forth. She moved on him until he exploded inside her again. He sobbed, fingers
plowing little furrows in the earth at his sides.
Gradually, Matthew came back to himself and opened his eyes. He yelped in
surprise, his body jerking. The woman still straddled him. Another stood a few feet
away, watching them. She had dark hair, streaked with caramel. Gold eyes with
flecks of red around the pupils regarded him from features nearly identical to those
of the first woman, who smoothly dismounted him. He gasped and both women
giggled at his still erect member.
The brunette stepped out of her tunic and leapt on him before he could react. She
rode him more fervently than the first had and soon another world-shaking orgasm
rocked Matthew's lithe body. The minx kept pounding, milking every last drop of
his seed. He bucked and thrashed as if he had been stuck with a cattle prod, then
lay still once more, panting hard, dumbfounded. He had to be dreaming, would
open his eyes to a hangover and a mess in his shorts like he was fifteen again.
When he finally did open them, he cried out in shock.
Women, all nearly identical to the first two, surrounded him. The color of their
hair, eyes, and skin varied from one to the next, but their features and bodies
were the same; all perfect, if petite; all wearing variations of that strange tunic; all
studying him with disconcerting intensity.
The brunette eased off of him. She stood and disappeared into the crowd. Matthew
stared in stupefied amazement. Jesus, he thought, there was a crowd of them!
They couldn't all want to...
Fear trickled into his guts like dirty dishwater.
The blonde, the one he had seen in the willow, the one he had seen in his dreams,
clapped her hands together twice and a woman with red-gold hair pounced on him.
He seized her wrists and surged to his feet, adrenaline pounding through him with
the fear, lending him strength. She laughed and jerked a hand free with ease,
seized his shrinking member. Another of those electric jolts slammed through him,
sending him to his knees. He trembled, as it proved less pleasurable than the first,
almost painful. But he grew hard once more. The woman shoved him onto his
back, thrust herself onto him and began pumping her hips.
"Hey, baby," he said, trying to sit up again, still able to muster some of the
irresistible charm that had landed him in the beds of dozens of gym girls, "give me
a chance to catch...."
She slapped him hard across the face. He fell back, shocked by the sudden force of
the blow. She glared down at him in fury and continued to hammer him with her
loins. The dozens, no hundreds, of eerily similar women that now filled the clearing
giggled in unison. Matthew shuddered. The beautiful, tinkling laughter had become
a hard, metallic chorus reminiscent of rattling chains.
Yet another climax, devoid of ecstasy now, shook him as the girl ripped his seed
from him. Quick as thought, she leapt up and another took her place. Matthew
struggled weakly, to no avail. She pinned his arms to the ground and had at him.
He groaned, the sound reminding the part of his mind that remained coherent of
an old bull he had once seen being forced down the chute of a slaughterhouse.
The beautiful little blond stood by and watched, savage satisfaction burning in her
green-gold eyes.
Matthew's screams echoed through the valley, a piercing counterpoint to gales of
sparkling feminine laughter.
