A St. Paddy’s Day Memory

Lorena had only had a couple of drinks at the office St. Patrick's Day party. However, she did have a light buzz going as she climbed into her car, fumbled the keys out of her purse, dropped them on the floor, found them again and finally tried to insert the trunk key in the ignition. It took her a few moments to realize her mistake, but she finally got the car started. She knew she ought not be driving, but she convinced herself that she wasn't drunk enough to be a danger to anybody and pulled out of the parking lot. She stopped at the gate, blinking until she only saw two posts on either side, then very carefully rolled out into the main road and pointed her nose home. It was only a thirty-minute drive home, but she was completely breathless and nearly sober by the time she finally pulled into her driveway.

As she hit the garage door button, she thought back on her drive home. She'd seen a number of very busy policemen and another who'd waved her around a car with it's rear end sticking out of a ditch. Another three had been busy with drunks – a man in handcuffs getting loaded in the back of a patrol car, a woman on the side being given a sobriety test and the another leaning into a car window. This St. Patrick's weekend wasn't much different from most others. With a very relieved sigh, she pulled into her garage and remained sitting in the car for a few minutes, shaking as she realized how close she'd come to getting caught.

Lorena was an older lady, just a little over fifty, but didn't look it. She was still a very good-looking woman. Most of her kids had already grown and flown the coop. Her youngest boy, Jeffrey, was still technically living at home, although he was currently three states away in college or, as he said affecting a European posture, "at University." She stepped out of her car, watched the garage door close, then turned to the mud room door. As she pushed it open, she heard a whisper of something that sounded like wings and a slight breeze ruffled her hair. She spun around, almost losing her balance as the spikes on her high heels caught the edge of the steps, barely saving herself a fall by grabbing the stair rail. She looked around, up and behind her, but she didn't see anything. She mentally cursed the damned spike-heeled platforms she'd learned to love as a young girl.

"What the fuck," she muttered aloud to herself, "damn cops on the road got me all jumpy."

She shook the feeling out of her head and walked on in, flipping the lights on. She was still a little spooked, so she lit the place up, checking out the kitchen and the big pantry, before walking through the family room, the living room, and down the hallway, pushing open the unused bedroom doors as she went. She finally ended up in her bedroom and, leaving all the lights on, shrugged out of her dress and kicked off her shoes. With a final suspicious peek into her roomy walk-in closet, she dropped her purse on her bed and stripped down to her stockings, bra and half-slip. Reaching under the half-slip, she wriggled out of her tight, so-called control-top, panties, sighing as the breeze hit her damp, bare cunt. She stood for a few seconds, not realizing that she was standing in front of her dresser mirror as she caressed her de-haired pussy. She didn't like to shave, but she liked the smooth feeling of being hairless, so she waxed her vulva, legs and arms. She used a depilatory cream on her face and eyebrows, penciling the eyebrows in when she fixed her makeup. When she realized that she was standing in front of the mirror, she quickly pulled her hands off her pussy and grinned at her reflection.

"What say we play with Dickie after a while," she asked her reflection.

"Dickie" was her fat, ten-inch vibrating Chinese dildo. An ebony wood creation, it had knobs and rounded spikes carved into it, a bottom mounted dragon that fit deep into her asshole and a top-mounted ram that tickled her clitoris. It was hollowed out for the vibrating machinery. She'd had several dildos that had served her more or less satisfactorily, but when she was given Dickie by an oriental girlfriend, she'd fallen in love with it at first try. It was long enough to press against her cervix, the dragon fit pleasurably deep in her asshole and the ram's twin curled horns cradled her clittie just right. Lorena smiled at her reflection once more, patted her pussy and padded barefoot toward the kitchen, feeling a little peckish. As she passed Jeff's room, she again heard the whisper of wings and stumbled slightly, shivering with a sudden terror that washed over her instantly.

"What the fuck!" she gasped, ducking and dropping almost to her knees as she looked around her in a panic finding . . . nothing.

Lorena panted, gasping as she squatted, fingers digging into the carpet and sheer terror freezing her in place. She stared wildly around her, unable to move a muscle as she tried to peer into Jeff's bedroom, but she still saw nothing.

"If there's nothing there, then what in the fuck am I scared of," she quavered to herself, "nothing, right?" she tried to laugh but only shuddered with fear.

She finally managed to unhook her fingers from the carpeting and, standing up, crept up beside Jeff's bedroom door and peeked around the door edge. She'd opened the door earlier on the way to her bedroom, but she hadn't turned on the light and was unable to see with the dim light shining in from the hall light. Timidly she reached a fearful hand to the inside light switch and flipped it on, flooding the small bedroom with the bright overhead light. Mustering up her courage, she hesitantly walked in. She thought of calling the police, but what would she tell them? That she thought she'd heard a noise and it had scared her? They'd laugh at her, but then . . . wasn't that what the police were for? To dispel the bogeyman or the idea of a bogeyman? No, there was no need for them. There was nothing here that could hurt her. It had to have been the central air she'd heard and felt, still . . . she spotted Jeff's old baseball bat and picked it up. Hefting it made her feel better. Randy had taken the guns when he'd left with that young, Swedish bimbo, the bastard, she fussed, he'd left her defenseless. Oh, well, she sighed as she stood up on trembling legs, she was still hungry and hadn't seen anything. She continued on to the kitchen, still shaken, convincing herself that it was the central air that she'd felt. Regardless, she kept the bat in her hands and left the light in Jeff's room on.

She raised the bat as she stepped into the kitchen, ready to swing at anyone or anything who might jump at her. Still nothing. She shrugged and assayed a feeble chuckle at her fear as she pulled the peanut butter and honey from the cupboard and dug out the last slice of pumpernickel. That's all she wanted anyway, she told herself, just a half sandwich. She quickly slathered peanut butter and honey on it, plated it, poured herself a half-glass of skim milk and, grabbing a napkin, headed for the family room, figuring on watching some TV and eating her sandwich. With the baseball bat under her arm, she settled into Randy's old armchair – her armchair now – kicked on the boob tube and sat back to eat her solitary half-sandwich and drink her milk.

Between the alcohol she'd drunk, the lateness of the hour and her hunger pangs gone, Lorena leaned back in the chair, tucked her feet under her and dozed with the late, late, late show. The bat slowly slipped out of her hand and thudded softly on the thick pile carpeting. The last few sips of her milk sat beside the last bite of her sandwich as she snored softly. She'd been aslept for a few minutes when, as if gently pulled by an invisible hand, her left foot slipped out from under her. It stood straight out, held by an unseen hand as it swung to the side. She stirred and groaned softly without awakening. Then her right foot came out, just as softly and gently as her left, leaving her sitting on the back of her butt – the bottom of her spine. She stirred again as her feet came up, seemingly to the waist of a standing person.

Suddenly, Lorena came awake, staring wildly around her and gripping the arms of the chair desperately, trying to keep from sliding forward. The invisible grip shifted up, pulling one leg at a time until both unseen hands curved under her soft, supple thighs. The woman was so terrified that she was unable to make a sound as she stared wildly to her front, trying hard to see what held her. She felt an invisible hand clutch her throat, stopping all sound, stopping her breath. It pulled her forward some more, her slip sliding further up her thighs as if pushed by an unseen, invisibly caressing hand, a strange feeling filling her mind and body, an powerful urge to yield to her feelings. She felt an arousing stimulation deep in her belly. As the feeling arose, she half-closed her eyes, slowly relaxing, her thighs sliding up onto a pair of unseeable hips, her heels pressing together around them, pulling the invisible, unknown man to her. He was a man, she knew as the head of a heavy, thick, invisible cock pushed between her wetly aroused, pouting cunt lips. Lorena arched her belly up to meet his and closed her eyes, her mouth gaping as she surrendered her body to his touch, her skin prickling with goose bumps as fear fought with lust.

As her body slid forward on the chair, her hips arose, hoisted by invisible hands, the unseen prick smoothly slipping into her gaping, creamily gushing pussy and . . . stopped. She moaned her desire, a low, throaty, growling involuntarily pulled from deep inside her. Her voice climbed into a high, fast, whimpering gasp as she panted. She wanted it in her. Her hips rolled up, trying to take the thick, hard cock inside her.

"P-p-p-please!" she begged, "p-p-please . . ."

She felt the wordless demand. It came cruelly into her mind. It wasn't words it was simply a demand from . . . herself?

"Please what," it whispered in her mind, "Please what! Please what! Please what! Please what! Please what! Please what!" it echoed over and over and over.

"Please what?!" she gasped then gave the answer demanded, "plee-ee-eeze! Fuck me! Fuck ME-EE!" her voice climbed, "PLEASE! FUCK ME!! FUCK ME!! FUCK ME!! FUCK ME!! FUCK MEE-EE-EE-EE!!" she screamed, "FUCK-K-K MEE-EE-EE!!"

She felt a low, throaty man's chuckle deep in her mind. It was a cruelly evil sound. What was it? Her mind fought with her animal lust. She wanted his thick, hard meat slamming into her, wanted him to fuck her hard, wanted to welcome it, but in her mind, she didn't want it either. It was very unwelcome intrusion, but her hot, wet cunt hungered for it. With a deep, sobbing cry that wracked her body, she yielded to this unknown . . . thing that was slowly possessing her soft, creaming cunt. As his hands shifted, sliding up to her waist, she rolled her hips in a desperate effort and . . . succeeded! His stiff shaft sank to his unseen balls into her. Her cry of despair became a gasping wail of lusty victory. Her hips quivering, she held her breath in tightly and squeezed her vaginal muscles tightly around his thickly impaling stiffness, cumming – hard. As the slamming wave of pleasure washed over her, she eased and threw her hips into his again, sobbing with the sheer pleasure of his suddenly plunging cock.

"Slutty beast!" this time she heard the words, they were no longer in her head, "you fuck-hungry bitch!" the voice was raspy and low, "if this is what you want, then take it! Cunt! Whore!" his voice rose, "you two-bit slut! TAKE IT!!" he finally roared, repeatedly slamming into her, his brutish power rocking her body as he slammed heavily into her, taking her hard.

She opened her eyes and finally saw something . . . a tall, man-sized mist roiling and flickering upward like a cold flame . . . that enveloped her from the waist down. Her knees rested on what felt like hips, her calves and feet bent over them, gripping the smoky apparition's rear.

"Ah-h-h, Loren-na-a-a," the cruel voice hissed, "you have always had such a wonderful cunt," it finished with a strange gurgle.

"No! Please!" she begged, wanting to push the apparition away, but instead, pulling it closer with her legs.

"Oh, yes-s-s-s!" he hissed, "I have missed your sweet, tender tightness."

Lorena screamed, raising her knees higher, trying to pull him in deeper. His insane laugh echoed in her mind as he began plunging into her. Slamming his thick, pleasure-giving cock deep into her, over and over and over. Lorena screamed again, this time in lust as she stiffened once more, cumming just as hard as she'd cum the first time . . . then again. As he rocked stiffly into her, she rolled from one screaming orgasm to another. Cumming again and again and then again until she could only croak hoarsely. The sheer pleasure became torturous pain, yet he kept going, fucking her for almost a full hour. By then she hung limply in his ethereal hands, the misty smoke rising from their juncture.

She thought it would go on forever – it seemed like he'd been fucking her forever, but he finally roared in release. Lorena felt his pleasure as he plunged deep into her, seemingly climbing into the back of her throat. She gurgled quietly, trying to plead with him to stop. Her voice a hoarse croak. And he was done. With a final hard shove, he buried himself deep inside her, tearing through the tiny cervical opening and blasting his seed directly into her womb. Lenora screamed with the sheer pleasure of the pain, cumming again, her hips reflexively bucking into his. He backed up and again plunged to her very depths, once again pushing deep into her uterus and blasting another heavy blast of sperm-laden semen directly against her uterine tubes. She screamed again, her voice overcoming her hoarse throat, seeming to rip out her vocal cords.

The smoky apparition finally dissipated, but she could still feel him pounding into her, her pussy still gaping around his unseeable prick as he rammed heavily in and out of her. She lay back, whimpering in anguished pain as he finished cumming in her. As she sobbed softly, he caressed her satiny flanks, running his hands down her hips and thighs, caressing her gently.

"Didn't I tell you that I owned you," the voice was back in her head, "that I'd never let you go?"

"Y-y-y-yes-s-s-s," she sobbed, nodding helplessly.

"You will join me – when the Summer Solstice comes," he whispered, "until then I will visit you nightly, just as I did long ago."

"P-p-p-please . . ." Lorena begged.

Her mind suddenly numbed with unbelievable pain, pain he'd never been able to inflict on her while alive.

"Please what?" the inner voice demanded, "as you can feel, I wasn't idle while I searched for you. I took many souls as I practiced for you, but I have found you at last, so tell me . . . please what?"

"P-please, M-M-Ma-Master," she sobbed, "please allow your slut slave to lick your powerful manliness clean."

"Ha, ha-a-a!" the apparition sounded in her head, "that's my sweet little slave, but in this condition it is only your mind that I have. Tomorrow I will be incarnate. I will find a host for my mind. For now, on your knees before me!" his voice thundered in her mind.

Without questioning, she immediately slid off the chair and onto her knees, bowing her head as she rested the palms of her hands on her thighs. Assuming the position as she'd been taught several decades past. Her throat was sore from screaming. He'd never been able to fuck her like he'd just fucked her – long and powerfully. She bowed her head, suddenly filled with the thrilling thought that he'd returned and that he'd return again. She fell back into her old role – once a slave always a slave – and threw her chest out proudly for him, arching her back to make them stand out even more.

In her mind she became the young woman he'd enslaved and who'd learned to please him so well. He it was who'd owned her before Randy. When he'd died, she'd been devastated. She had almost starved without him to feed her until a friendly neighbor had shown her how to care for herself and how to be an independent woman. She'd been a good friend, almost a mother to her, then she, too, passed and Randy had seized the opportunity and stepped in. Lorena was happy now, she knew that this summer, she would once again be the young woman that had learned to please her master so well. She knew that she would no longer have to think or worry about herself. Master would see to it all, would take care of her.

"My Master," she murmured, resting her chin on her chest falling asleep as she sat, dreaming of her master's return. If his cock had been imaginary, she must have a vivid imagination because she was very sore.

Ends