The Education of Lisa Ch. 05

"Hey," Will said. "I never realized this before, but she looks a little like you."

"What?" I said. I had been so intent upon Lucius that I did not even notice that he was posed in this portrait beside a woman.

"That's my great-great-great grandmother, Leah," Will noted.

I looked at the woman for the first time, and I could see how Will could think there was a resemblance to me. Again, something about the eyes, or maybe the high cheeks. Her hair was dark like mine and, though it was hard to tell, there was a suggestion of a heaviness in the bosom. But, even though Leah Jacoby was in her fifties at least in this portrait, it was obvious that she was more beautiful than I could ever hope to become. There was a certain sadness about her smile, too, bearing testimony to more life than I could ever hope to live. To think that this woman had been married to the man I had been reading about, had borne him children, had fucked him many times, gave her image a life that was almost as vital as his.

I wondered, idly, if she had ever sucked his cock, if respectable women did that in their day. I looked at her soft, full lips, also like my own, tinted a lurid red, and imagined them wrapped around Lucius's penis. I saw it so vividly. I knew from reading his memoirs that Lucius was well-endowed (so he said anyway) and I knew that most men in his day were not circumcised. I saw this beautiful woman, her delicate cheeks swollen with her husband's fat uncut cock. The image was in my head, as vivid as if I were actually seeing it. She closed her eyes as he exploded in her mouth, flooding her throat with his bitter seed.

I swooned on my feet, and actually fell back against the opposite wall.

"You OK?" Will asked me.

I could only nod. I still wasn't able to take my eyes off the photograph, but now I was seeing only Leah. I wondered who she was, how she had come into Lucius's life. I didn't think she was one of his whores. She didn't look hard or coarse, but then nor did she look soft. Leah looked like a match for her husband, and she looked something like me.

That night, in bed, I slipped beside Will naked. I usually slept in a t-shirt and panties, but tonight I was so keyed up I couldn't stand clothes of any kind.

"I need you to fuck me," I whispered in Will's ear. He was opening up a book, fully prepared to read himself to sleep.

"I'm pretty tired, Lisa," he said. "How about if I just use my mouth?"

"I don't want your mouth," I said. "I want your cock."

Will raised his eyebrows. He was unused to any kind of crude language, even in bed. I snarled at him and reached down into his boxer shorts, grasping his flaccid penis.

I leaned over him, worked his prick out through the fly and took it into my mouth. Will flinched back, but I held him fast and sucked him hungrily, almost viciously, until he sprung into a surprised erection.

I straddled Will, pulled him inside me, and ground down onto him, pelvic bone to pelvic bone. I began to fuck the hell out of him. Will just looked up at me, helpless and a little shocked. He reached up to touch me, gently caressing my heavy swaying breasts and my back. I didn't want a gentle touch, though, or Will's smooth teacher's hands. I wanted calloused work-strong fingers to treat me rough. I wanted Lucius.

"Stick your fingers in my ass," I demanded.

"Lisa," Will said. "I don't want to hurt you."

"God damn it, Will," I growled. "You won't."

I took his hand and put it in my mouth to get the fingers wet. Will smiled a little. He reached his saliva-slicked fingers around, pulled my buttocks apart, and ran his fingers lightly around the rim of my anus. Even when finger-fucking my ass, Will was gentle. It pissed me off.

"Jam ‘em in!" I yelled at him.

I thrust backwards and Will, reluctantly, penetrated my back door with two fingers.

I was fucking him more intensely now, rocking back and forth, eyes closed, seeing Lucius and Leah. I wanted to be between them, to fuck them both. To bury my face in Leah's cunt while Lucius took me from behind.

"I'm going to . . ." Will said. The man couldn't even say the word "come" in this context.

"No, Will," I moaned. I was so close, on the very edge. "God, not yet."

Too late. I felt the damp little whimper of an explosion as Will spurted his stuff into me.

"Sorry," he said.

Snarling, I rolled off him. I knew he would wither away before he could get me off. So I jammed both my hands into myself, trying to replicate Lucius's touch. One in my pussy, one working my asshole. I was drenched with Will's sticky semen, which made for ideal lubrication. As Will watched in horrified amazement, I took a handful of the globby stuff and jammed it my mouth, smearing come all over my lips and licking my fingers clean. I came like an atom bomb.

"What's gotten into you, Lisa?" Will asked me when I was done, then looking to the bedside table where Lucius's book rested, he answered his own question.

He shook his head a little, but didn't say anything more. Sex always put him right to sleep. He rolled over and within a few minutes was lightly snoring.

I stared at the book for a long time before opening it.

The thirteenth and final volume of Lucius's memoirs began with Leah's death in 1920. The two of them had returned early from an African safari because both had contracted some tropical virus. In any case, Leah passed away while Lucius was helpless with delirium. When he recovered he found that not only was his wife dead, but that her corpse had been cremated at the behest of their son Donald. For reasons I didn't yet understand, this infuriated and grieved him more than her death itself.

"Now I am condemned to an eternity without the company of the only person on this Earth I have ever loved."

When I read this statement I thought that he was speaking metaphorically, but as I read on, I found that he was being very literal.

Shortly after their marriage in 1888, Lucius had contacted an old associate of his. A man he called Dr. Legger, although he did note that Legger's medical schooling was far from official. The man had traveled the shadowy corners of the world; the Caribbean, the Amazon, darkest Africa, Arabia, Eastern Europe, the Orient, Australia, collecting the occult secrets of the world before the light of modern technology could erase them forever.

Legger claimed to have discovered the secret to eternal life, and it was for this secret that Lucius paid him an exorbitant price. Legger had operated on the newlyweds, had implanted what he claimed were sacred stones inside their chests. The stones would extend their lives far beyond the natural human lifespan, but only after death would their true power be revealed.

I read the rest of the volume in a bit of a delirium myself, scarcely believing the words before my eyes. There were detailed instructions and, if they were to be believed, it was within my power to fulfill them.

I closed the book after two in the morning. After that I did not sleep, for fear of what I might dream.

Will went to work again the next day. Part of me didn't want him to go, was terrified of being alone in the house knowing what I now knew. Another part of me couldn't wait to be rid of him, so I could find out if it was true. It all seemed like a dream, but in the daylight I opened the book again to see if it was still real. It was. There was a map. A floor plan of the basement, with one wall marked in red ink.

I'm sure you've read Edgar Allen Poe.

I fixed myself a stiff drink before descending those dank stairs, to give myself courage. This may have helped a little, I don't know. I was shuddering with terror, but perhaps I would have been completely paralyzed without the liquor. I forced myself to focus only on each step I took, not considering what I was doing beyond that. I was an automaton, driven by the knowledge of what I was to do, but not considering what that might entail.

I found the wall marked on the map. I felt along the bricks until I found a section that was loose. The bricks weren't mortared in, were only stacked. Just as the memoirs had said.

I pulled the bricks away, as if I was in a dream. Behind them was an earthen crawl space. I blinked at the dirt floor for several minutes until I remembered that I had brought a shovel. Deliriously, I began to dig.

Christopher Jacoby, obeying his grandfather's will (and defying his dead father's wishes) had stolen Lucius's corpse and had borne it back to the house, had buried it here. Christopher was himself an elderly man by the time Lucius died, but he had idolized his grandfather. Donald Jacoby, conversely, had hated his father. He knew of the deal with Dr. Legger, and he had been determined to thwart Lucius's monstrous scheme. That was why he had ordered that his Mother be cremated, so she would forever be beyond Lucius's grasp. But Lucius had out-lived his son, and his grandson was willing to grant Lucius this one final favor.

I dug only a few feet before the shovel struck something hard, which sent vibrations up the handle and into my arms, sending a shudder to my very core. I tried to tell myself that I had struck a rock, but I knew from the shivering in my heart that I had struck bone.

Within minutes, I had him uncovered. Lucius Jacoby, the man who had invaded my soul. He was little more than a skeleton, covered with a thin patchy layer of black leathery flesh. A few tufts of dark hair remained on the scalp. Though his eyes were completely desiccated, the dry empty sockets seemed to gaze right through me. The grin, a trick of his shriveled-away lips, seemed to say that he was happy to see me.

There was a smell of ancient must, like long-dried semen.

Shaking badly, barely knowing what I was doing, I reached up into his hollowed rib-cage. I felt around in there, fighting a deep revulsion, until I found what I was looking for. A cold hard stone fastened to the Lucius's ribs by a metal clasp which snapped away easily when I pulled on it.

I pulled the stone out and held it up to the thin yellow light of the bare bulb which was the sole source illumination down here. The stone was a deep reddish black. The color, I fancied, of heart-blood. I thought of what needed to be done with the stone.

"Sanctified by the seed of a direct male ancestor, the heartstone will become flesh and beat once again."

There was only one way to accomplish this.

That night, in bed, I lay naked beside Will, the stone buried deep inside my cunt. The thought that I had pulled it out of a corpse and put it inside my body filled me with disgust, but also with a certain dreadful arousal. I had thought it would be cold and hard, but inside me the stone hummed with a warm pulsing life. I put my hand over the mound where my pubic hair grew and felt the steady beating inside. I wondered if this was what it felt like to be pregnant, to feel life stirring in my womb.

I rolled over, whispered into Will's ear: "I need you to fuck me."

"No, Lisa," he said, laying his book down upon his chest. "Not tonight. I'm really tired."

I nodded grimly. I knew he was going to say that. I also knew that there was no reason to worry. Lucius's resurrection, having proceeded this far, was not to be stopped by his great-great-great grandson's lack of libido. The singing life in my cunt told me this.

I laid awake for hours, drifting on the opiated waves radiating from my vagina, until Will snored. Until he dreamed. Until he awoke.

He rolled on top of me.

"Will?" I said.

"No." From his lips emerged a voice heavier than his own. Even in the darkness of the bedroom, I could see that his eyes were no longer light brown. They seemed to glow from within, a faint ghostly blue.

"Lucius," I said.

"Silence, woman," the voice whispered into my ear. "Don't be afraid."

He snaked inside, his cock possessed by a prehensile life of its own. Huge, much bigger than Will was normally. Inside me, his cock-lips kissed the heartstone. The vibrations grew more intense, until they were unbearable, until I was screaming. The man above me, somehow both Will and Lucius, plunged into me. Violently, stabbing me, over and over. As I had been in my dream, I was paralyzed. Like I too was possessed. My legs spread open, my cunt yawning wide, my arms spread out in a limp cruciform, my mouth frozen in a scream.

The man came inside me like a storm cloud bursting. My cunt runneth over. The heartstone swallowed as much as it could take.

Will rolled off me, still asleep, his body shrugged off like an old coat by the spirit who had worn it. At the same time I was freed from the spell. The life returned to my limbs and the heartstone fell silent. I fell backwards, into a blessedly dreamless oblivion.

The next day, Will was already gone by the time I awoke. This was good. I don't think I could have faced him after what had passed between us the night before.

I laid in bed for a long time, feeling a bit ill, like I had drunk heavily the night before. It was a very long time before I grew the courage to reach inside myself, to find out for sure if this whole awful thing had been a dream.

The heartstone was still and silent inside my vagina, as hard and as cold as a stone should be. Somehow I knew it was only sleeping.

I dressed quickly, not even knowing what it was I pulled on. Carrying the stone before me, I marched back down into the basement. I brushed away the thin blanket of earth I had covered Lucius with the day before. Hands trembling, I replaced the semen-blessed heartstone in Lucius's chest.

The effect was immediate. In old movies, transformations of this type were accomplished through time-lapse photography. In newer films, computers are used to visualize the process. Strange to say, but the older movies seemed to be more accurate. Lucius's flesh grew back onto his bones not with the liquid speed of CGI, but with the herky-jerky fits and starts of stop-motion.

I sat back against the opposite wall, my mind thrown beyond terror to a strange peace which exists on the other side.

Lucius's tongue appeared in his mouth as if vomited by his throat and at once began to scream with the agony of birth. His eyes rose in the black sockets and, still lacking eyelids, bugged out in pain and a queer delight. The skeleton, filled out now with raw, bloody muscle, stood. Bony fingers clawed at a still-forming chest, clutching the source of the anguish and the regeneration. Skin grew in like a fungus. Hair, dark and full, fell from his scalp. Lucius's strong, handsome features emerged from the bony grinning skull-face.

The most startling thing was his cock. The leathery mummified thing smaller than my thumb swelled and swelled into an oily glistening, club-shaped monster which swung literally to his knees.

Lucius now stood above me, fully re-formed, and young. He appeared no older than I. He swayed on his feet a little, unused to his new flesh. His electric blue eyes locked on mine.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," I muttered, my voice barely a squeak.

"Christ has nothing to do with it," Lucius said, his voice husky and dry, rusty from disuse.

He looked about the room, blinking, and one hand began touching himself all over, feeling with disbelief his newly restored flesh.

"Life feels wonderful," he rasped. "In death I felt nothing, saw nothing, knew nothing. For this I have you to thank."

I tried to make some response, but was distracted by the sight of Lucius cradling his cock in one hand, smiling as with the pleasure of shaking the hand of a long-absent friend.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Lisa," I said in something less than a whisper.

Lucius raised an eyebrow and looked at me curiously. "Did you say Leah?"

"No, Lisa."

Lucius nodded slowly. "You look something like my wife."

"I know," I said. "I've seen her picture."

"She was to be here, with me," Lucius said. "But my cursed son burned her up." His voice was tinged now with fury.

"I'm here," I said, "with you."

Lucius grinned. "Is that why you awoke me?" He was stroking his cock now, coaxing it to life. It grew fuller, standing up, easily a foot long.

"Yes," I said, this word barely an exhalation.

"Open your shirt, woman," Lucius commanded. "I want to see your teats."

I tore the buttons off the shirt I wore, one of Will's, and offered my breasts to him.

"Beautiful," he gasped, stroking himself furiously now. "Beautiful."

I let the shirt fall off my arms and then I pulled my sweat pants off. Using my discarded clothes as a thin blanket over the cold dank floor, I lay on my back and spread my legs.

The dead man crawled on top of me, his body totally enveloping mine. Lucius penetrated me with his impossibly huge cock. He filled me completely. The feeling was so intense I didn't know if it was pain or pleasure.

Such power he had, such strength. I took it all in, crying in anguished passion as he plunged in and out, for what seems like hours. The French call orgasm "the little death." Until Lucius fucked me, I didn't know what that could have meant. I died many times that morning.

Finally, he pulled out of me, slick and glistening. He bade me to kneel before him.

"Drink of my seed and it will add ten years to your life," he promised.

I've heard of lines from guys who wanted to come in my mouth, but that was a new one.

I wrapped my lips around that fat cock-head, though. The head was all I could fit between my jaws, just the tip of Lucius's cock being nearly the size of my own fist. I licked and sucked, running my tongue in crazy circles around the fat head, tasting my own juices mixed with Lucius's ancient musk.

Lucius moaned, a rumbling deep in his broad chest. Heavy hands, recently no more than skeleton, ran through my hair. I felt them grow tense and knew the explosion was coming. I braced myself for it, but could not have anticipated the flood.

Lucius came in my mouth like the coming of the tide, his stuff more bitter and yet more enticing than Will's. I swallowed as much as I could until I began to gag on the rich, thick flow. Lucius pulled out of my lips, still spurting, bathing my face and my tits. He stroked himself to a finish, great spurts of semen splashing to the concrete basement floor like life-giving rain.

I fell back onto the floor and for a long time knew no more.

I didn't awake for several days, and when I did awake, I was in the hospital. Will told me later that he'd found me in the basement after hours of frantic searching. I was burning up with fever, mumbling delirious nonsense about Lucius, having torn out half of the basement wall in some sort of unconscious frenzy.

The doctors said I had somehow contracted a rare tropical virus, although how I might have come in contact with such an exotic bug, they had no theory. They tell me I nearly died.

I was in the hospital for a whole week, and Will was with me nearly the entire time. If I had any doubts that he was the one, they were expelled by his absolute devotion. Even after I came home and was too weak to get out of bed for almost a month, Will was a dedicated nurse. He fed me, dispensed my medications, walked me to and from the bathroom, bathed me with a sponge, brought me anything I desired.

So that's the easy explanation, isn't it? The whole thing was a fever dream inspired by Lucius's diabolical journals. That makes more sense than me having caught a sexually transmitted virus from a reanimated corpse. Try as I might, I could find no evidence that what happened to me wasn't a hallucination.

As the whole episode falls further into the past, the once-sharp details grow more hazy and dream-like, but somehow part of me still clings to the irrational notion that it all had been real.

If so, what had become of Lucius? Was he still out there, somewhere, trying to make his way in the modern world? Sometimes, laying awake in the darkest part of the night, I imagine meeting him again. Such thoughts never fail to make my pussy drip with desire for him, and I always feel a flush from down there like a delirium-inducing fever. I touch myself when this happens, I can't help it, but I never bring myself off. That would expel him from my thoughts, and I want to hold him with me forever, my undead lover.