Temptation Castle Ch. 02

He was running through a forested area. The silence of the forest was uncanny and was pronounced by the sound of his own heavy, almost panicked, breathing. He was running fast and his heart was pounding, not from the effort of the running, but rather from the fear and anticipation of what was following him. The heavy breathing was in stereo. It wasn't all his. Someone—or something—was on his trail and was gaining fast. Ron wanted to escape, and yet he didn't. He anticipated something happening, something he was running from. But also something he was running to. Something he wanted to have happen even though he was doing all he could to escape it. Something he wanted with every fiber in his body, but something that he wanted to be inevitable, to be forced on him. Something that he could escape the guilt of wanting by running from it. He was running faster and faster, with some hope now of outdistancing whatever was following him. But with no hope of outdistancing it really, he knew. And in the knowing, he was exhilarated and excited.

The breathing in pursuit was heavier now, and Ron was slowing down, going in slow motion, the beating of his heart getting stronger, louder. A large tree had fallen across the path ahead. The yielding, fecund brown earth path wound in a spiral up to it, with a dense growth of spiky ferns on either side, phallic fronds winding out from the center of the ferns and reaching out, grabbing for his ankles, trying to slow him down.

Ron laid his hands on the log, ready to spring up with his legs and vault the log. But as he did so, a beefy, hairy limb was wrapped around his lower belly and he came down hard on his solar plexus on the surface of the log. The bark was rough and he'd landed hard, but although he felt the wind being expelled from his lungs, the blow was neither painful nor scratchy.

He rejoiced in the release, spared now any responsibility. Knowing what was coming and wanting it, ready to suspend all cares and guilt and obligations to anyone else.

He felt the power and silky hairiness of the heaving chest that came down on his back. He felt the beating of the creature's heart and heard its heavy breathing and the snuffling noise it was making. The pressure of the limb around his waist was released, and Ron looked up as two black, muscled, hairy arms reached up and black, leathery hands grabbed his wrists and held his arms out and above his head.

The slow, steady invasion of his channel came, as he knew it would, with fuzzy, echoing grunts and groaning noises muffled by the forest, Ron knowing some of the strained grunting was his own, as the beast's throbbing, hot poker—thicker than any normal poker—started to move up inside him.

Ron lifted his head in a silent howl of "Yes, god, yes!" Relieved and free at long last—surprised and yet always knowing that the satisfaction and arousal of the complete filling and possession would be like this.

Ron woke with a start, jerking his hand away from who knows where, and turned his head, locking onto the eyes of his brother-in-law, Phil. Getting an inscrutable look from Phil. Five empty martini glasses on Phil's side table now and a slight chill in the air with the sun now dipping half below the branch lines of the pine trees on the far shore of the lake.

A sloppy grin on Phil's face. Ron suspecting where his hand had been before he jerked awake and not completely sure that Phil's expression could be wholly attributed to tacking too close to the edge of drunkenness.