The Shadows Whisper

The man rose up and mounted his whore and as with those several years earlier, Petar Vukovic grasped his large prick and moistened it at Carole's vagina before arching his back and fucking it deep to her womb.

Lightning struck again and with a cacophonous roar of thunder, Carole opened her eyes again and looked straight into the greenish yellow eyes of a ghost. Petar morphed into Abel and Abel into Petar as the engorged prick continued fucking her wet cunt. The storm raged and the fucking continued as the image of each, the father and the son, perched, mounted above her.

A mouth lowered and took a nipple between its teeth and tugged hard nearly breaking the skin. A finger found her puckered ass and pushed in as the cock continued its plunging and withdrawals. Another mouth found the other nipple and bit down, sucking the droplet of blood that formed at the areola.

Two hands grasped her ass as a hand clenched her hair with another at her throat. It was beyond ravishment; it was possession. Carole watched as the elixir stole the forms of the man and whisked them back and forth between corporeal and surreal. One moment Abel was fucking his mother and the next Petar Vukovic was taking the former wife of Jacob Stutzman.

A hideous strike of lightning broke pieces of brickwork off the façade of the building as Mrs. McGill's Imagination of Brown's House Inn, the Cuckolder of the meek Jacob Stutzman and the father of Abel Miller, or the son of Petar Vukovic burst into an orgasm of milky white semen flooding the cervix and womb of the whore beneath him or them or the Imagination...

When Carole came to, the strange man was gone, the effects of the elixir long worn off and all that was left was exhaustion, both physical and emotional. The sun had broken through and filtered into the room from the tall French style windows. Her fingers went to her mound and found it covered in mostly dried semen with pools of the same coating her thighs and sheets. When she stood more spilled down her thigh.

The house was quiet when she went downstairs for tea and a morning biscuit. 'Abel!' she thought before remembering he was off to the station earlier and on his way to the port by then. The evening was almost a faded memory; only bits and pieces made any sense to her but she remembered the greenish yellow eyes.

Was it real? Only two men have those eyes that she knew of; her son and his father. But the elixir itself has its own power, its own dreams and visions and it might have all been just that...

June 12, 1931

The long Packard automobile pulled up to the entrance of the Brown's House Inn as the porter stood ready with his baggage carriage. The three men inside exited and stood looking around before entering the vestibule leading to the registration desk. A young man in white britches and an overcoat stood ready to check them in.

"Mr. Petar Vukovic, Mr. Abel Miller and Mr. Mason McGill" the first gentleman announced as the other two men glanced around the lobby and toward the parlor. Several couples were milling about but it was the young blond wife who caught both their eyes. Her husband seemed disinterested and was engaged in a polite but boring conversation with an elderly couple while sipping a brandy.

The young blond wife raised her gaze and found the two men, three actually returning it. 'How strange yet appealing' she thought as she noticed their striking similarity. 'Three brothers, I suppose.' Each of them had long flowing black locks of hair and was dressed from head to toe in black with polished black boots almost to the knee.

Later that evening a storm had rolled in from across the bay and the fog horn blew its warnings intermittently. The menfolk had gathered near the bar and the women were conversing about all manner of things as the 'three brothers' entered the parlor.

"Might I offer something from the homeland to soothe the palate?" Petar Vukovic offered in his old world brogue.

The menfolk peered over the curious bottle; almost Irish green in color yet oddly iridescent in a small way.

"Absinthe from the city of Zagreb in my country... I have yet to find it here in this country" Petar offered. "The womenfolk too, my friends, it is the custom... all except the youths not yet of age."

Even the shadows whispered their admiration as the two sons of Petar Vukovic looked on studiously observant of their masterful father anticipating the charms of the evening to come and fastened their greenish yellow eyes upon a delectable morsel, each to their own liking...

MFH