~ Andy's eyes spoke volumes. He was Jack Nickleson in the Shining - madness swirled inside him. His grin was but a cruel smear across his lips, as he entered Amber's bedroom.

Amber moaned softly, hearing him enter. Ready and, strangely, eager for his dull surprise, she moved, without looking, taking an inviting position on the bed. Amber wasn't ready. Amber wasn't ready for this Andy at all.

A scream echoed through the house that night. It was short lived. Andy's penetration had been brutal, animalistic in intensity. His powerful thrust propelled Amber's body forward, smashing her into the headboard of the bed. Unconscious she never felt the culmination of the sex thrust at her but, Andy did. White knuckled, he strained to tear the headboard apart, cumming harder than he ever had, crying out her name. ~

Chapter One

Six months earlier....

"Andrew Stockman, please report to the principals office."

The announcement came as a surprise and an embarrassment to Andy. A wave of guilt went through him and gave rise to an uneasiness that wasn't deserved.

"Andrew? Did you hear the announcement?" His teacher asked, knowing fair well he had.

"Yes – may I be excused?" "You may and the rest of you can stop your snickering."

Andy left the classroom humiliated and wondering. He hadn't done anything wrong, at least as far as he knew and so the request came as a shock. Feeling condemned, for some reason, his walk took a somber tone and he stretched the time as long as he dared.

"Hi, Andrew Stockman" He stated without conviction, "I was called to report..."

Andy had no idea what was going on. The receptionist's eyes blinked once and then tears formed. Without a word she held up her arm and pointed to the principal's office. Jesus did the pope die? Andy wondered, moving off towards the principal's office, giving the receptionist one last glance. Past visits had educated him, he knocked and waited.

"Come in."

Andy hesitated and then turned the door knob entering, "Its Andrew Sir...I was called in."

Andy was barely through the door when principal Hardy stood up – stood to attention, so to speak. "Andrew, please come in." Principal Hardy made a hand gesture, averting his eyes, indicating for Andy to take a seat in the chair before his desk.

Andy did as requested and noted the principal's continued lack of eye contact. What the hell?

"Andy – excuse me, may I call you Andy?"

"Yeah – I mean yes, it's my name."

"Andy, I have some bad – some terrible news for you." Principal Hardy began. "Your father...He's – he's been in a accident..." Hardy began and hesitated, faltering over his next words. "I'm afraid the news is the worst."

"What? I don't understand sir. Accident? Is he alright?" Andy was half out of his chair by the time he finished questing Principal Hardy.

"No son. I'm sorry. Your father was....He's dead Andy." Andy fell backward, nearly toppling the chair. His pallor turned ashen and his jaw dropped, opening his mouth in a silent scream. "Your mother will be here shortly. She asked me to prepare you. I am sorry Andy and of course our hearts and prayers are with you and your mother. If there's anything I – we can do..." Hardy's words fell on deaf ears.

Weak, shaking, arms pushed Andy up and he struggled to gain his feet. Principal Hardy quickly rose, slamming his desk chair backward and rushed around his desk, feeling Andy might collapse. He cursed silently to himself for having to give this boy such devastating news but, knew it was part the job.

Andy held up one arm, bent slightly at the elbow, giving Hardy a palm, denying his approach. "Andy, please, allow me to help you." Hardy implored him. Andy said nothing. His face, strangely expressionless, only stared in the principal's direction, his eyes looking through the man that had informed him of his father's death. Briefly steadying him self, using the chairs high back, Andy turned slowly and left the office to wait for his mother. The next seven days would be a week of personal hell for Andy, a week of unbelievable sadness and agony.

Chapter Two

Agony turned into withdrawal. Withdrawal turned into denial. Andy was certain the experience had to be a dream - a horrible, nightmarish, dream but, even in that state, he silently marveled at the strength of his young mother.

Perhaps, it was for this reason Andy never cried. He never shed a tear. So strong was his denial, so unshakable his conviction that even when his father was placed into the ground he remained certain he would wake up. Andy finally did, some three weeks later, in torrent of grief and tears. Visited by his dead father, in a real dream, he came to grips with his loss. Amber, his mother, heard his wailing and rushed to his side, cradling him in an effort to sooth his grief.

"Andy – Oh God Andy I know, I know baby." She said softly, stroking his head and gently rocking him. "I know how much you loved him. I did too but, he's gone Andy. It's just you and me now."

Andy's intense sobbing gave way to muffled blubbering. Amber had his face pressed to her nearly bare breasts. His tears ran down her cleavage and soaked the silk material of her flimsy nightgown. Slowly, the death grip he had around her waist eased and she, too, released her tight hold on him.

She kissed the top of her sons head and then softly lifted it by placing her fingers under his chin. "It's going to be okay Andy. I'll never leave you – it's going to be..." Amber stopped talking and gasped when she felt Andy's young hand cup her breast.

"I – I know (sniff), I know dad told me (sniff – sniff). He told me you liked this when he did it." Andy's fingers tented and softly pulled out and over the fullness of Amber's tit. They stopped at her nipple, turning it instantly hard.

Shocked and speechless, Amber's body went rigid. Her son's hand remained, fondling her breast and nipple, as her first thought was, how did he know? A flood of memories went through her mind. Memories of Jack's tenderness and the titty game played when he wanted sex with her. Jack could have her at the edge without ever touching her vagina. She shivered, mightily, before finally summoning the strength to place her hand over Andy's.

"Andy...It was a dream - that's all." Gently, she pulled her son's hand from her sensitive breast. "A dream, that's all Andy. You need some rest. We'll talk in the morning"

Their eyes met for a brief moment and Andy's look made her uneasy. He was so like his father. His intense dark brown eyes; the nose, slightly up-turned and his fair, dark, skin, the trade mark of his father's Mediterranean heritage, all made Andy a youthful Jack. Andy dropped back onto his pillow but, before she could rise from his bed, Andy gripped her leg – high on her thigh, at the point where her upper body made the crease at her leg. It sent another shiver through her. Jack loved to squeeze her there.

Amber slid off the bed and gently caressed Andy's forehead. "Good night."

It would be hours before she finally rested herself. What had he meant - Jack told him? Told him what? How – the dream? There was no mistaking what Andy had said and - done. What bothered her most were the feelings and the emotions he had conjured up with his touch.

By the next morning a sound, a well deserved rest had erased the event with Andy. Amber was busily washing dishes when she heard his approach. "Morning. Did you sleep well?" She asked, without turning around. Andy's reply came seconds later.

Andy went straight for his mother, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Umm, yeah – I slept great." It wasn't Andy's voice.

Fear forced her mind back to night before, as Andy leaned in, placing a soft kiss on the nape of her neck. The kiss sent goose bumps up and down her arms and she immediately thought of Jack, wondering what might be next.

Andy, now resting his head on her shoulder, squeezed with his arms, pulling her back into him. Amber bit her lower lip, trying not scream, feeling the unmistakable shape pressing into her ass. Her mind flashed back. Jack always had a morning erection and, more often than not, shared the fact with her just as Andy was now doing.

Shaken, unable to move, Amber steadied herself using her hands on the counter. Andy slowly wiggled his erection, forcing the material of her nightgown and his penis into the crack of her ass. Tightly pinned against the counter, Amber bit harder, creating a small trickle of blood, where her teeth had cut the skin. Her eyes closed when Andy's bear like hug loosened and one hand slid up and into her nightgown.

He captured a breast and Amber, instinctively moaned, tipping her head back. Her mind raced. Jack had taken her many, many times in the early morning. It was his "quickie", as they had often joked about. She had always welcomed his sexual hunger, expected or not but, especially when it was unexpected. Fear and wanting consumed her. Andrew's lips, now on her neck, sucked and kissed the soft, sensitive skin there, while his free hand slowly drug up her nightgown, in small gathered bunches.

"I want you – I need you so bad Amber." Andy said softy but, again, it wasn't Andy – it was Jack. She heard Jack's voice not Andy's. "I'm so sorry I left you but I'll never leave again." Amber's fingers turned white from her death grip on the counter.

With one final quick jerk, Andy had the back of her nightgown above her waist. His hard penis pressed into her soft, bare, ass and, this time, she gasped - loudly. This can't be happening! Her mind screamed out. Whatever was going on she had to end it but, there was one thing she had to know. If it was truly Jack standing behind her, he would surely do one more thing. Something they had both enjoyed. Jack had always given Amber an option, without forcing himself on her.

Jack had always pressed his penis down, letting his hard, throbbing, shaft rest between her legs. If Amber was willing she'd part her legs and let it spring up. She was almost always willing and always wet. Holding her breath, she licked at the trickle of blood and waited. Moments later she had an answer. Feeling Andy's hand slide against her bare ass and grab his penis, her eyes opened, in yet another shock. Like her husband, he forced his thick, hard, head down between her legs, leaving it there, pressing heavily into the backside of her legs.

Tears formed in her eyes. Still holding her breath, she, slowly, parted shaking legs and let Andy's penis rise, whispering but a single, barely audible, word. "Jack." Andy's lips formed into a grin and he moved his hips.

The movement was torturous for Amber. Everything her mind screamed out said it was wrong and, yet, silently she prayed for just the opposite. Her prayer was granted. Andy's movement eventually placed his penis at the portal to her vagina and she felt the arc of his shaft, as it slid forward and in. Andy impaled her, coming to rest tightly against her ass.

Insanity set in. Amber's mind folded. In the blink of an eye, Jack was no longer dead. Jack was alive and standing behind her. She widened her stance and sank down. It was pure passion and love of her husband that drove her. It had been so long and Jack was so hard – so eager and she cried out to him, telling him to fuck her, begging him.

It was Andy's fingers that dug into the soft flesh of her hips but, it was Jack's voice. Deep, guttural, and passionate it drove Amber's desire. She found herself close to climax in no time. It was something that rarely happened when Jack was alive. Jack had always come quickly. She had never doubted his passion, or, the fact he gave her no time to climax herself – after all it was just a quickie, as they had so often joked about.

There was something different about this Jack. He was giving no indication of quick release. Vaginal fluid ran down the inside of her legs. The heat of climax built inside her. Each thrust from the powerful, young, legs seemed harder – more intense. At one point, his power even lifted her feet off the floor and she grabbed frantically for the faucet to steady herself.

"God yes, Jack – yes!" She cried out, certain she was about to explode. Andy's deep penetration eased up, as he altered the movement of his hips. Rapid, shallow thrusts sent his mother over the edge. Amber screamed the scream of lovers. She came hard. Every fiber of her being was alive and tingling. But, Jack – Andy, wasn't quite through with her. He hadn't cum yet.

Her breathing came in short, rapid, pants and she desperately held on to the faucet. Jack had never lasted so long. Her body jumped with every new penetration and she felt like she might faint. Her clit was on fire and a new climax began to build, driving her even more insane with sexual passion. The end came with a, near, super human effort by Andy. Amber snapped her eyes closed, praying once again. This time for Jack to cum. She was about to climax again, when she felt his hands move.

With a sudden jerk, Andy gripped her hamstrings and forced her feet off the floor. At the same time his gave a final mighty thrust, sending his penis deep inside her as he came. Amber was literally impaled on his shaft and pinned against the counter. The force of his climax was nothing like she'd ever experience. She came again, this time with Jack and harder than her first.

Slowly, Andy allowed her legs to drop. His breathing sounded like a man that had run a ten mile marathon. Amber's legs were weak and shaky. She couldn't imagine how he was still standing. When her feet, again, touched the floor Amber quickly rose up on her toes, feeling Andy move, pulling his penis from her body and she screamed out. "Oh God – NO!" It was over and, unable to look, Amber remained facing the kitchen window, listening to his footsteps fade. It was only then that she placed her hands over her face. Tears formed. Seconds later, a torrent ran down her cheeks as emotions of shame, yearning and a sickening, deep, ache in her loins caused more pain than she could stand.

Amber slowly regained sanity and some composure. She moved away from the kitchen counter, letting her clothing drop back into place and dried off her face. Her first step was short, not knowing if she could walk. Her foot landed in a pool of cum and she cried out, jumping back hard into the counter. She dropped to her knees, covering her face once again, as renewed tears started up. How? How could you have let him...? She cried out in her mind, as unbelievable anger and grief tortured her.

"Mom...What happened? Is breakfast ready?" Andy's sudden appearance shook her to the core and she slammed back against the kitchen counter doors. Her face turned ashen and her mouth gaped ad with blood shot eyes, she stared at her son, unable to speak.

"What?" Andrew asked, his face registering curiosity and then, slowly, a certain sort of fear. "Is everything okay? What's going on mom?"

"Nothing – nothing Andy - sit down, I'll get breakfast in a minute." Amber's mind reeled, after her reply, at the apparent implications. He doesn't remember a thing! She thought. How? How in the hell can you have sex like that and not remember?

Keeping her eyes focused on her son, she rose from the floor slowly and dried her eyes. Nothing in his demeanor said he was aware. He was her Andy and that was all. Her heart swooned seeing him ready for school and expecting the breakfast she had always had ready.

"I - I'm sorry Andy. I made a mess and had to clean it up. Can you eat cereal this morning?" She asked in a trembling voice, suddenly very conscious of what little she had on.

"Geese mom, yeah, no problem." With that, Amber slipped silently from the kitchen, unable to look at Andy. A short time later, she heard him leaving and her legs gave out. She collapsed, clutching, hard, between her legs. A new torrent of tears ran down her face.

Chapter Three

By noon of that day, Amber Stockman had not recovered. The event had shorted circuited her, already, fragile mind. She was sure the woman staring back at her in the mirror was a stranger and moved away, unable to bear what she saw. A chill went through her, young, body, as a ghostly image formed in the mirror she'd just left. At 12:30 she was on the phone.

"Doctor Rosenberg?"

"Yes Mrs. Stockman, how may I help you?" The doctor answered.

"I need to see you – today doctor!" Desperation commanded her voice, coming across loud and clear to the doctor's ears.

Carl Rosenberg hesitated briefly, checking his schedule and then quickly relented, agreeing to a late afternoon meeting. Amber thanked him repeatedly. Setting the phone back into its cradle she felt some small relief. At 3:15 she left the house. Amber had met Rosenberg, a family practice doctor, many years back. When she and Jack married it had been Amber that insisted they keep him on. Rosenberg delivered their one and only son, Andy, a year later.

"Amber, what's so important? Is there something wrong with Andrew?" Rosenberg asked, as Amber entered the office. No twinkle of eye greeted Amber this time. His demeanor offered the deeper concern he felt, as Jack's recent passing still bothered him. "Or is this about Jack?"

"Yes – no, Oh God I just don't know." Amber replied, collapsing into the chair opposite his desk. She looked pallid. Scared beyond anything, or anyone, Rosenberg had ever seen, or experienced. Despite his deep personal feelings he waited for Amber to respond further. Her next question shocked him. "The dead...Do they..." She hesitated, seeming to search for words. "Can they come back?"

Shocked and, yet, extremely curious, Rosenberg remained silent and gave himself a moment to compose an adequate response. He regarded her carefully, and too, he mentally reaffirmed Jack's death and what possible implications that might be playing within Amber's question.

"Amber - Amber my dear, what you ask is impossible. The dead are dead." Although filled with compassion, his answer came out sounding blunt and he had instant regrets.


"There are no buts Amber. We all die my dear and that is the end. Oh, I believe in the soul, at least to some degree, the after life and all but, to return – to haunt, no, this I don't believe. You are simply under stress."

"It's not me!" She retorted, louder and seemingly more frightened. "What?" "It's Andrew!"

"Andrew, I don't understand. What about Andrew?" Amber dropped her head, cradling it in her hands. Carl felt deeply for his patient but, there was little to do but wait. Finally, Amber raised her head and gave Rosenberg a weak smile.

"It's Andrew – Andy, Dr. Rosenberg, I think...Oh God, and I think Jack is inside him somehow!"

Rosenberg paused to consider her words. Nothing in his face gave indication of what he might be thinking and Amber's frustration grew, at his lack of response. "Well? You're thinking I'm crazy – or something, right?" She spouted off, sounding every bit as exasperated as she felt.

"No, no my dear, quite the contrary, it's the farthest thing from my mind. As I said, I feel you're under stress – under pressure and wanting Jack not to be dead. What you say might be perfectly sane, given Andrew's close resemblance to his father." It was Rosenberg's best psycho-babble.

Amber's demeanor changed. Some of the tension Rosenberg had seen seemed to fade and she eased back, considering what he had said. "So...You're saying I might be imagining this?" She replied, recalling the very real events of the morning.

"Not at all my dear. Andrew looks every bit like his father – what imaging is there?" "But his voice..." Amber interjected.

"That too - he's of age, his vocal cords have changed and I'm sure he even sounds like his father. After all, he has reached puberty Amber." Rosenberg offered, lapping his hands over his considerable paunch, forcing a smile.

Jesus, if he only knew how much. Amber couldn't help thinking. She looked down, trying with all her might not to scream out what she knew. "Doctor Rosenberg...You're certain – absolutely certain, there is no way for the dead to..."

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