Supernatural Ch. 13

Although I had in front of me the captivating sight of both the girl I had been fucking's arse and her by then messily dripping pussy, something made me look down at what was happening beneath me, and saw, held beneath my still bloatedly swollen and fully engorged cock, a large silver bowl. Given the condition I was in at that moment I have no idea how I made the connection but their intention suddenly became clear to me when I remembered what I had heard the older sister saying to the young girl. 'Don't be concerned, he still has more to give, and do not forget that we need to plumb him to his very deepest level to obtain what we really need.' They were after yet another load of semen from me, one that was in some way extra special to them.

I admit that right then I thought their efforts would be futile. I had already come three times in what must have been less than one hour and not only was that far more often than I would have thought I was capable of, but given the gut-wrenching force of each one of them I felt certain that I had already produced a great deal more semen than should have been physically possible.

But I was wrong! Unlike any other time when once an orgasm was completed continued manipulation of my cock had always proved to be almost unbearably irritating, that time I quickly found that what she was doing was in fact rebuilding my excitement. And not only my excitement, within a remarkably short time I could also sense the familiar draining surge that usually heralded the lead up to yet another climax. Perhaps whichever of the two older sisters that was actually working me up also sensed some subtle change in my reactions because just then she altered what she was doing. While the hand that had been pumping continued moving its actions became a little slower, stroking up and down more sensuously determinedly, and at the same time I felt her other hand take hold of me, its stroking fingers setting to work on my cock-head.

All that time I had had the other sister, the one holding the bowl beneath me, pressing the heel of her other hand firmly up into my groin, but she too must have sensed whatever signals my body was giving off because as what was being done to my cock changed I felt her fingers curling up around my balls, then gently and rhythmically squeezing them.

The combination was just too much and within a very short time I felt my entire body reacting; every muscle tensing, the sense of anticipated release intensifying, my balls rising and tightening, my cock feeling it was about to burst. Then, after not much more than half a dozen more firmly jerky hand-strokes, it did, and I literally erupted!

Heaven knows if they were actually able to catch all of it in the waiting bowl, I was in no condition to either watch, or really care, all I knew was the ecstatic relief from the almost tortured pressure I had been experiencing in those last few minutes. But, if the expressions of delighted satisfaction I was vaguely conscious of hearing in the three voices that greeted my massive ejaculation was anything to go by, they did. All I knew was that at that moment the one thing I needed more than anything was to be left alone, to sleep. And I did just that, collapsing down on to the soft green grass beneath me, and then simply rolled over and instantly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

In time I became aware of the sound of muffled drumming, I had no idea nor in fact any interest in where it came from or what it signalled and it was only with great reluctance that I allowed its incessant sound to finally stir me. Then, when I opened my eyes I found myself slumped across the desk in the room at the library - the drumming was the sound of someone knocking at the door. It took an enormous effort of sheer will-power to push myself up and literally stagger across to open it, and standing outside, was Barbara Carter.

She gave me a long, searching look, then looked past me, at the desk, where I had left her opened book. She moved by me, closing the door behind herself. 'Do you want to tell me what happened?' she said in an oddly compassionate tone as she went to the desk and closed, then picked up the volume.

Tell her what happened? How could I, I had just fallen asleep and then had a strange and extremely disturbing dream that would be absolutely impossible to discuss with anyone. But before I could even start thinking about how to respond Barbara continued. 'If it makes it easier to talk about Alan I should tell you I have also been there, and although I can't begin to imagine how you were treated I do know a little of what goes on.'

I'm sure the look on my face said much more than I was capable of verbalising, did she mean what it sounded as though she did - that what I had dreamed was in fact something other than a dream? But again she anticipated my reluctance to reply. 'The library is closed now, just about everybody else has already gone, come and have a coffee at my place, it'll be easier for you to talk there.'

Although my first thought was that the last thing I wanted to do right then was talk, the suggestion of coffee certainly sounded good, and maybe, just maybe I did need someone like Barbara to help me explain away whatever it was that had happened in my head.

'It's not far, just a short walk, that is if you actually can manage to put one foot in front of another.' she added with a hint of sympathetic amusement in her voice.

For some reason I did seem ridiculously weary, as though I had put in a hard day in the garden rather having spent it merely desk-bound, but the fresh air and gentle exercise did seem to restore some sort of normal circulation. Barbara left me to my own thoughts during the walk and they insisted on continuing to whirl uncontrollably. Given the subject I was in the process of researching it was possible to rationalise the reason why I would conjure up the place and perhaps even the images I had dreamed of, but the apparent effects of what I had dreamed was quite another matter. Even though my sex-life in recent months had been all but nonexistent, that couldn't fully explain either the luridly graphic nature of my imaginings, or, even more puzzlingly, the physical tiredness I had woken up with.

Even once inside her apartment Barbara left me while she bustled about doing something in the kitchen - but still I could find no rational explanation for my odd experience, in fact the more I thought about it the stranger it became. I found that unlike virtually any other dream, where occasionally particular fragments can be recalled on awakening, I was even then able to remember virtually everything, and in disturbingly sharp focus. The images of each of the three women remained crisply clear, as did both the memory of what each of them had done with me, and perhaps even more astonishingly, even the echoes of the sensations I had felt.

When Barbara returned she brought in with her a tray on which there were two cups of steaming coffee, a plate of biscuits and a couple of glasses containing a generous serving of an amber fluid. 'I thought a brandy or two might prove restorative, purely medicinal of course.' she said as she passed one of the glasses to me.

I took it gratefully, swirled it around for a moment, then drank it. 'It's not something I normally do at this time of day, but thank you.' I said as I placed the empty glass down. 'I think one will be sufficient, but the coffee smells good.'

'Help yourself to biscuits while I tell you about my experience, then you can decide if you want to share anything with me about yours. OK?'

'We'll see.' I answered noncommittally.

'As I told you when I brought in my book to show you, it's been in my family for many generations - just how many I really don't know - but as you could have seen, it is extremely old. Since it's been in my possession I have spent countless hours examining and reading it and by now I could give you large chunks of text verbatim. I'm absolutely positive there's not a single page I haven't studied many, many times.' she said before pausing to take a drink of coffee before continuing.

'Then about a month ago, one evening when I was feeling just a little bored with myself, I found I was sitting here just idly flicking through the pages. I won't say the book opened itself to the page you were looking at, but at the time it certainly felt as though it had. Anyway, when I looked down at it the picture seemed to be different in some way. I mean I must have previously examined that one at least a dozen times, I felt sure I knew every single thing about it and I was puzzled as to why I should think it somehow looked different. So I peered at it more closely, trying to identify exactly what had aroused my interest. And then what I think happened to you, happened to me.'

'And what was that Barbara?'

'I was taken there!' she replied self-assuredly.

Of course I have no idea what expression appeared on my face at that moment, whether it was one of absolutely disbelieving incredulity or perhaps something that hinted at, if only subconsciously, a sense of utter relief. 'And I can prove it.' she added, 'I can tell you their names - and you won't find those anywhere in the book!'

'They never got around to introducing themselves.' I replied somewhat lamely.

'So, you did go there!' Barbara exclaimed. 'I knew it, that's why you're exhausted. They said they needed a human's seed, they obviously got it from you, didn't they!'

'If it wasn't just a particularly vivid dream, or some sort of mental hallucination, yes, yes they did. But although they didn't tell me why, I do remember them saying something about wanting my seed.'

'I'll tell you what they told me, but first I want to know exactly what happened to you, and I mean exactly, no euphemisms, and no cutting out the gory bits.' she added with a distinctly wicked grin.

Recounting the details of my sexual encounters was not something I had ever done before and I don't mind admitting I found just the thought of doing so extremely embarrassing. But Barbara made it easier by telling me that first she would like to compare some of the details of my memories with her own; things such as a description of the woodland setting, what I had noticed the tiny helpers doing, and exactly what the three women had been wearing. I suppose I have always been observant by nature and my work has further refined and developed both that talent and my ability to recall detail, so I was able to give her a mass of information. But once those aspects had been more than thoroughly dealt with I found myself floundering and Barbara had to start prodding me for a more accurate description of what had been said, and, even more disturbingly, exactly what had happened.

Adding to my discomfort as I made slow, hesitant progress was the fact that I found the mere retelling of the activities was affecting me physically, it was as though my body, and especially my genitals had memories of their own, memories they were all too eager to respond to. Recalling the sight, scent, touch and effects each of the women had had on me not only gave me an almost instantaneous erection but also stirred-up the unusually strong feelings of lust I'd experienced at the time.

I was also vaguely aware that even as she was encouraging me to provide her with ever more graphic detail Barbara's eyes seemed to be watching me with unusually close attention. However, in spite of the combination of all the things happening to me I somehow managed to press on, recounting what I remembered of the events that had led up to each of the four orgasms I'd been given. Once she no longer had to prod and prompt me for detail she sat quietly, and other than the occasionally raised eyebrow, a tightening of her mouth, or a slight shifting in her seat, she made no comment, until I mentioned the bowl that had been positioned beneath me before what turned out to be my final ejaculation.

And then - 'Aaah.' - was all she uttered as she leaned slightly towards me.

She waited until it was clear that I'd completed my description then asked me what I made of the experience. 'To be honest, I really have no idea. I'm still not convinced it was anything more than a dream, a hallucination, something brought on by perhaps a combination of tiredness and all the reading I have been doing. But if that's all it was then I have to admit that it's hard to explain the way my body has been reacting.'

'And the erection you've got while you have been talking to me?'

I know I blushed crimson when I realised she had noticed the unmistakable bulge in my trousers, and perhaps even more by the fact that she had not been too embarrassed to mention it.

'I was expecting you to react that way, you see I know how my visit affected my own sexuality.' she added when she saw I was too self-conscious to respond.

'In what way?' I asked, as a way of avoiding any further comments about what I was feeling myself.

'Let's say it's been super-heightened.' she replied almost wistfully. 'My sex-life has been non-existent for the last few years, and its absence never really bothered me, my work and my other activities seemed more than sufficient for me. But since my return I don't seem to be able to think about anything else, I don't mind admitting it's been a constant and most times, a really unwelcome pressure. I thought that perhaps once I did what they asked me to I'd find it abating, but so far it hasn't, in fact hearing you tell me what they did for you has only made it ten times worse.'

'What on earth did they ask you to do?' I asked, ignoring her final statement, and the almost pleading look she gave me as she spoke it.

'They asked me to find someone, someone like you; mature, intelligent, and male.'

'Why?'

'It's an interesting question but the answer's perhaps a bit overlong to tell you right now.' she said throatily as she pushed herself up out of her chair and began undoing the buttons down the front of her jacket.

Just the sight of her fingers unfastening her clothes accelerated the lustful fire that recounting my experiences had apparently lit inside me, but although the need to satisfy those feelings was almost overwhelmingly powerful at that moment what was even stronger was the discomfort I felt from my swiftly engorging penis pressing hard up against my trousers.

I stood and began doing what she was. 'The bedroom's this way.' she said, turning and leading the way down a short hallway.

We stripped in no time flat and although of course her body was nowhere near as beautiful as those of the three women in my dreamlike experience its imperfections only seemed to make it even more desirable and whatever it was that was driving us both clearly had control of our actions - we had sex, we fucked - what we did to and with each other certainly couldn't be described as 'making love' - and at the end of it we were both left gaspingly exhausted.

It was some time before I regained enough strength to even wonder how I had been capable of performing the way I had done, let alone consider the why's and wherefore's of many of our actions. Then at some stage during that time of recovery I was vaguely aware of Barbara slipping from the bed and padding out of the room but it took the large brandy she returned with to bring me back to full consciousness.

'So, do you still want to hear the answers to your questions, or is all that now irrelevant?' she asked as she refilled my glass a few minutes later.

'Far from it.' I answered, then added facetiously 'Though after what we have just done I'm beginning to wonder if the whole thing wasn't some plot of yours to just finally get us together.'

She chuckled. 'I didn't notice you complaining, but maybe what I have to tell you will help you understand a little better. But you will have to suspend your normal intellectual disbelief if it's going to make sense to you.'

I said I would do my best to hold off making any judgements and took another sip of brandy before settling back to listen to her explanation.

'As I told you before, the book is ages old and has been passed down through my family, usually from mother to daughter, but in my case from my grandmother. What I didn't tell you before is what she told me when she gave it to me. The family legend is that the book is connected to what we call 'the fairy world', connected through the three women you encountered, who are in effect the senior council of that place. There is a great deal more I could tell you about them but for now I'll just stick to the part that has directly affected you.'

She paused to take a small mouthful of brandy before she continued. 'What they told me was that down through time their male equivalents have for some reason become less potent than they once were. But what is to us a long time ago they also found that their and our species are quite capable of inter-breeding, so they realised that all they needed to do to ensure the survival of their species was from time to time to obtain a fresh supply of human semen. That's one reason why virtually all of the tales of people being taken by them tell of men or boys being the subject of their attention. The book, and its keeper - as they call us who hold it - merely has to select a target for them, a man they can 'borrow' for their purpose.'

'Even if I could believe that, how does it explain the characters who have reputedly disappeared for long periods of time?' I asked, thinking of course of the Rip Van Winkle legend.

She smiled. 'I think a few may have elected to stay longer, can you blame them?'

'So why choose me, I'm hardly what any woman would describe as a stud, and why was I returned so quickly, I was never asked if I wanted to stay any longer?'

'I made it clear you were to be returned immediately after they had got what they needed.'

'You did, why?'

She hesitated for a few moments before answering rather shyly. 'I wanted the chance of you and me getting together.'

'Did you anticipate us 'getting together', as you euphemistically put it, in quite the way we just have?'

'Well sort of, but I'll explain that. In their world sex is much more openly recognised as being a key life force; they find our civilisations' various ways of subduing or suppressing it as being very peculiar. Anyway, as a sort of reward for helping them they give the keeper and the men they borrow a greatly enhanced sense of their sexuality. As I said earlier, I don't mind admitting I've found it very difficult to deal with since my grandmother handed the book over to me.' she added.

'You mean I'm likely to go on feeling the way I did an hour or so ago for the rest of my life?' I asked somewhat aghast.

'Well I guess we'll just have to wait and see about that - but my grandmother told me she was still having a very healthy sex-life, and that was just a month or two before she actually died.' she replied with a grin.