The Sex Crystals Pt. 04

"But just 'cos them's yours it don't mean they won't hurt yer if you don't do what they want. Especially at the start. Sex seems to bind 'em to yer - the more, the sooner if you know what I'm sayin'. As you do what they tell you to more, they...I guess they learn to love you? Sounds weird, I know, but that's what it seemed like to me." Will went quiet for a moment again.

"Mama? She never listened, not properly. Mama had been the boss in her life from bein' little. Her own parents were both gone before she hit seventeen and she, as the oldest of six, had to become ma to 'em all. So she weren't used to bein' told what to do.

"Oh, she loved sex our ma. Took her brother to be our daddy when he turned eighteen and she were twenty or so. Fucked him every chance she got, so I hear. He died, 'bout twenty years ago. Lung cancer. Don't know where he got it from. Never smoked a cigarette in his life s'far as anyone knows. But it got him all the same.

"Then, a few years later, the crystals came to us and Mama, who'd not had a guy since daddy had died, took the three of us and taught us everythin' she knew. But the crystals wanted more and she weren't gonna give it to 'em. In the end, they hurt her to make her do what they wanted and, for a while that worked. Then she resisted. So they killed her."

There was a gasp from Aimee and Sarah. "Really," Robbie asked, fascinated and horrified in equal measure.

"Basic'ly, yeah. Made her stop eatin' so she was weak. Then made her stop drinkin' so she grew cold and dry. Then, one mornin' she was just...gone. Starved and dehydrated in the middle of a kitchen full of food and water.

"So, that's the last thing I gotta tell yer. If'n yer don't do what you are told, the crystals can...take control of you. Make you do stuff you don't want to, or make you not do stuff you want to do. It's all about control with 'em. Treat 'em well, do what you are told and you'll get anything and anyone you want. Defy 'em and you'll regret it until you die."

A silence came over the group. Some distance away, but getting closer, a flashing, yellow light could be seen, indicating the approaching breakdown truck.

"So," Mike spoke up, "they can control others, too? People we might want to...you know?"

"Kinda," Will replied. "Again, I don't understand it. You can...project a suggestion to 'em from the crystal and, usually, they get that in their own mind. They think about stuff. Private stuff, like you did, and they...I don't know. Rationalise it, maybe? Come to think that it's what they want. So they do it."

"Anyone we want?" Robbie was very interested in this part.

"Pretty much," Will answered. "At least, I've never met anyone who could resist 'em. 'Cept mama. I guess you'll have to try it and see. But," he continued, "I can get pretty much any woman I want and I ain't nothin' to look at! Hell, I got you two," he indicated Sarah and Aimee, "and din't neither of you want me to begin with!" The women smiled, slightly embarrassed.

The flashing lights were coming closer now and they could hear the engine of the truck as it approached.

"So, yeah. That's it," Will said. "Anythin' else and the crystals will...let you know. However it is they do it." The breakdown truck rounded a bend a few dozen yards away and began to slow down as the Ross family's broken down car became illuminated in the headlights. "I guess this is goodbye. And good luck!" He prepared to turn away, but was stopped by Aimee as she threw her arms around his neck.

Aimee kissed Will, deeply. "Thank you," she said to him. "Thank you for...you know. Everything. You were the first in my arse - but you won't be the last! But I'll always remember you for that. And for this," she finished, pulling the crystal from her pocket. She stared at it, transfixed again, until Robbie leaned over and closed his hand over it. She turned to face Robbie, smiled, nodded and put the horse away.

"You're welcome," Will said and there was a glint on his face which the Ross family were all convinced was a small tear. Before any of them could say another word, Will spun around and strode off for the house.

"Bye," Robbie called after him. "And thanks!"

"Yeah, bye," Mike shouted. Sarah thanked Will as well, but he just continued walking as if he hadn't heard them.

Now the Ross family turned to the breakdown truck, which had just pulled up. The guy behind the wheel looked about sixty-five with thin, greying hair and a pencil moustache. Deep, thick-set glasses constantly looked in danger of falling off the end of his nose and he had a pock-marked cheek where some long-forgotten acne had scarred him.

"Hello, folks," he called through the window and smiled in that polite, but vaguely hungry way that people have when they know you're going to be paying them too much money for a relatively small service. He climbed out of the cabin. "Bill Turner's the name," he continued. "Now, let's see what the issue is here."

The issue, as Mike knew well, was perfectly fucking obvious. Where a black, dusty, muddy - but serviceable - tyre should have been at the front of the car, now there was just a bare wheel-rim with a couple of ragged patches of rubber gamely holding on.

Bill Turner made that horrible sucking noise between his teeth; the international sound that someone is going to get charged a whole shit-ton of money for something unnecessarily expensive. "That's a bad one," he said as if the entire Ross family couldn't see that for themselves. "Let's have a look. Need to make sure the rim's OK. Blow-out like that? Could make the rim hit the road and bend it. If that happened, your whole wheel is probably broken and I'll have to put the car on the bed and drive you home."

Mike said nothing and simply nodded. He knew very little about what makes a car go and couldn't tell the carburettor from the radiator without a diagram, but he did know enough about car wheels to know that they should be round and that they should have tyres on them. His car wheel certainly looked to be round, but was missing the tyre. He hoped that Bill would quickly agree with this assessment and resolve the issue of a lack of tyre so that they could all go home.

Bill crawled around on the floor with a torch for a few moments, staring at the wheel. He gave a disappointed sigh when he came to the conclusion that he probably couldn't screw these people over for a new wheel and stood up. He smiled that disturbing smile again.

"You got lucky," he said. "The wheel rim seems to be fine, though it's an alloy, so the spokes might be damaged. You'd probably best get them checked over at some point, but they look OK at the moment, so I don't doubt they'll get you home if you're not going far?"

"About five or ten miles," Mike said, non-committally.

"Yeah, they'll be fine for that, I'm sure," Bill answered. "OK. So, let's get that wheel off and get the new tyre on it."

Now that he had decided he couldn't get anything extra out of the Ross family, Bill started working in earnest. He jacked the car up and removed the wheel in a few moments and. Within less than five minutes, the new tyre was on the rim and fully inflated.

It was at this point that it all went a bit wrong. Bill tried to get the wheel to go back onto the axle, which worked OK but, as he tightened the first wheel-nut, there was a worrying clonk from under the car. Bill furrowed his brow. "That doesn't sound right," he said. He fitted the remaining nuts and jacked the car up a little further, getting down with his torch to look under the chassis.

"Oh," he said and stood up. "I don't know how you've done it," he continued, wiping his oily hands on his overalls, "but you've broken the front spring."

"What?"

"The suspension spring," Bill replied. "Like...some people call it a shock-absorber, but that's something else. It's a giant spring at the top of the wheel mount that keeps the wheel in place when you go over bumps and potholes and things. They're not the most robust of things and a really hard jolt can break them. Usually, it's if you've hit a big hole or a speed bump too quick, but any big enough jolt will do it." Bill was shining the torch along the road behind the car. Suddenly, he was off.

He returned a few moments later with two broken pieces of twisted, slightly rusty metal in his hand, one bit clearly sheared off at the end. "Here you are," he said. "These bits came off when the tyre blew, I guess." He handed them to Mike as if he had any idea what to do with them.

"Can you fix it?" he asked.

"No," Bill answered. "I don't usually carry springs because they're expensive and usually specific to the manufacturer. You'd need a proper garage for that, and they'd probably have to order them in, unless you go to your dealer."

"Will the car drive?"

"Yes and no," Bill said. "You could drive it, for a short while, maybe. But each time you hit a bump, you'd likely break off a bit more until the whole spring was broken off and then you're looking at a whole new suspension most likely. A new spring? That'll set you back eighty - maybe a hundred. A new suspension?" Bill gave that backwards sucking sound again. "A fair few hundred. Thousand, maybe? More even, if it's difficult to get hold of or replace. Again, a proper garage could help you there. Sorry," he finished and genuinely sounded like he meant it.

"Fuck," Mike swore and slammed his hand on his leg. He stormed off a few feet. Bill and the others watched him go, saying nothing. After a minute or so, Mike returned and was much calmer again. "I guess you'll have to take us home," he said.

"I don't have to," Bill replied. "It's up to you. But in your position, and with this road being so bumpy? Yeah, I'd take the lift if I was you."

Mike nodded, mentally deducting a large slice of money from the family budget for this service, as well as another chunk for the spring and whatever else his local grease-monkey could screw him out of. The result he had in mind didn't please him one bit.

Bill smiled, apologetically, and then started to put straps around the underside of the car to lift it up onto the flatbed.

Next to the car, Sarah and Aimee shivered. It was now very cold indeed. Bill spotted them as the hydraulics pulled the car up onto the truck. "Cold," he said, pointlessly. "That's not going to be easy for you."

"Why?" Mike asked.

"Engine's gotta be off when the car's on the truck. That's the law."

"So?" Sarah asked.

"So, no heating inside the car," Mike answered her.

"Yep," Bill agreed.

"So...there's nothing we can do?" Aimee asked, shivering again.

"Well," Bill answered. "I don't normally do this, but with the weather and the time and stuff, I guess you two ladies could sit in the cab with me. Ain't got room for all of you so the two gentlemen will have to sit in the car."

The Ross family agreed to this. Whilst the car was being secured, Sarah came over to Mike and put her hand in his pocket. She drew out her flower-shaped crystal - all the while staring into her husband's eyes. She smiled at him and he smiled back. No words needed to be exchanged. Mike simply nodded.

Once the car was loaded, Mike and Robbie clambered up onto the flatbed and got into it, whilst Sarah and Aimee climbed through the passenger door of the truck's cab and Bill got in the other side. Sarah gave Bill the address and - after punching it into the satellite navigation system - Bill worked on turning the truck around in the narrow road and headed off.

As he drove, Bill couldn't help looking at the two women next to him. Sarah was in the middle of the front seat, with Aimee by the door. The girl was wearing a pair of tight-fit jeans and a cute top whilst the woman wore a dress that seemed just a little too short. Odd, Bill thought to himself. It didn't look short when she was at the side of the road?

But it certainly looked short now. Whereas Bill would have guessed the dress should have gone at least over the knees, it seemed to end just below mid-thigh instead. He was concentrating on driving - especially here, where there were no street-lights to illuminate the narrow roadway - but his quick glances over could not spot any bunching of the dress to suggest why it came to an end so far up the woman's legs.

Must have got it wrong, he thought to himself. He had very little experience with women's dresses. Maybe that was how they all worked.

The woman was holding something in her hand. Bill had been concentrating on the car and the flatbed winch and hadn't seen Sarah pull the crystal from her husband's pocket. As such, he had no idea what the woman was holding, he merely knew she was gripping it tightly and appeared to be muttering to herself.

I've picked up a loony, he thought, unkindly. She's got dementia or Alzheimer's or something. That's it! She's a few weeks from being committed to the nut-house!

But the woman hadn't seemed like she was suffering from anything of the sort. Bill decided to stop with the amateur Freud shit and get on with getting this lot home so that he could go back to bed.

Bill looked in the rear-view mirror, not that there was much point. The road was empty and they were still a mile or more from the nearest main road where traffic could reasonably be expected to trundle up behind him, but forty-odd years of driving made this habit unbreakable.

In the car, he could see the father and son talking about something. Bill paid no attention and turned his eyes back to the road. Moments later, a movement in the mirror, caught at the corner of his eye, made him look at the car again.

The son's head had dropped down out of sight.

Bill couldn't be sure, but he felt that this was odd. It was late and maybe the lad was sleepy (to Bill, any person under the age of about fifty was either a lad or a girl). But, if so, why not simply put his head against the side window, or on the headrest, and doze off?

Flicking his attention between the road in front and the car behind, Bill noticed that the father had his own eyes closed. So, sleepy, after all, Bill thought. He had just about convinced himself of this when he noticed that the father was biting his lower lip. The look on his face wasn't one of a man asleep, but of a man who was...

Impossible! You've lost the plot in your old age, Billy-boy!

But old age or not, Bill had seen that look before. A guy who was on the edge of an orgasm. That's what he could see in the face of the man behind him.

As if to prove this, the father opened his mouth and cried out and Bill - whose skills at lip-reading were legendarily bad - watched him shout out "oh, fuck, yeah! I'm cumming! You're making me cum!"

The shock of this almost caused an accident. Bill, presumably saved by some sixth-sense, looked forwards again and noticed that he was coming dangerously close to an intersection. He slammed on the brakes and the truck stopped uncomfortably quickly.

"Sorry, folks," Bill apologised. "This junction kind of snuck up on me. Guess maybe I'm a bit tired." He tried to sound genuine and hoped it wouldn't cost him too much compensation when it came time to get paid for his little taxi service.

"Or, maybe," Sarah replied, "you were too busy watching my husband cumming down my son's throat to pay attention to the road?"

"What?" Bill wanted to sound incredulous, but simply couldn't make it work. For the first time in forever, he felt like a schoolboy who had been caught smoking behind the bike sheds. Naked. With dirty pictures in his hand. Rubbing one out.

"Oh, don't worry," Sarah replied. "He enjoyed it. So did my husband," she finished.

"I... don't know what you're talking about," Bill said, unconvincingly.

"Yeah, you do," Aimee replied. "Robbie had his mouth full of my daddy's dick and daddy came and you watched it. We saw you," she added in an accusatory tone.

"Indeed we did," Sarah followed. "You could barely keep your eyes off the mirror. This junction has been in plain sight for ages, but your attention was...elsewhere. Behind."

Bill knew he had been rumbled. That embarrassed feeling of being caught came back. "OK," he said. "But, I won't tell no-one!"

"Of course you won't," Sarah said, sliding her behind up off the seat a little. "Otherwise, I'll stop doing this." So saying, she pulled her dress up even further, until it was bunched in her lap. She had "forgotten" her underwear back at the farmhouse (Davey had practically begged her for them and she didn't want to disappoint him), so her bare pussy was now out on display.

Bill's thoughts about the gay blowjob he had witnessed a minute ago flew from his mind. His eyes, his attention, his very being was now focussed on one thing, exposed for his viewing pleasure not a foot away. "Beautiful," he muttered under his breath.

"Thank you," Sarah said. "Now, would you like to get us home, or shall I cover back up?"

"No!," Bill replied, hurriedly. "No. Thank you." With an effort, he tore his eyes from the sight before him and back to the road. Checking, carefully, for any oncoming traffic, he turned onto the main road and began to increase speed.

A few moments later, the truck was up to speed and heading along the main roadway. Bill knew this road reasonably well. It was mostly straight and there were no traffic lights for some time. Also, at this time of the night (or, more correctly, the morning), there were almost no other vehicles in either direction. Automatically keeping to two mph below the limit, Bill settled down, waiting for the right junction to come up.

Groans and moans from the seat next to him pulled his attention from the road for a moment.

"Don't do that, Mr. Turner," Sarah said, although how she knew was a mystery, since her eyes were closed. "You'll have us in the ditch unless you watch where you are going." Bill snapped his eyes forwards.

But he couldn't resist a peek. He turned to the woman next to him again and, for the first time, saw something glowing, purple, in her hand. This shit was getting weird, fast. Bill turned back to the road, but now the shit was getting even weirder. In his mind he could hear a...voice? One that was telling him things. One that reminded him about his beloved Mary, with whom he had shared five years of blissfully happy marriage some forty years previously.

This wasn't the precursor to a silly joke about how unhappy the following thirty-five years had been. No, Mary had, to his eternal sadness, passed away whilst trying to bring their daughter into the world.

Sadly, neither of them had long survived the experience and Bill had been distraught. He had tried dating again a few years later, but it had come to nothing as no-one even came close to his darling, Mary and so, before he had reached thirty, he had decided that he was doomed to a life of being single and celibate and had (mostly) stuck to that.

The voice reminded him about the treats he liked on his birthday. The young, pliable women who did what he asked and didn't charge too much. The ones who helped him to forget, at least for a little while, his beautiful Mary. The ones who got on their knees and took him in their mouths. The ones who shucked their clothes and sat on his manhood. The ones who gasped and moaned and how it didn't matter that they weren't into it anything like as much as their moans claimed they were but were simply in it for the money.

Bill had never watched a pornographic film in his life and - although he knew there were such things on the internet - the idea that his ISP could track him and might send the police round if he looked at it had kept him away from such things. But the voice still reminded him of the young girl whom he had enjoyed a few months earlier. How she had sucked him and fucked him. How he had begged her to allow him to fuck her arse. And how she'd let him.