101 EROTICA STORIES (114 page)

Once Erin was inside, he thrust himself, up and down, left and right, any which way as he was fucking the woman, and fucking altogether for the first time. Erin was doing things he had only seen, and imagined, and for him, it didn’t take long to cum. When he did, he rested his head on top of the woman’s shoulders, who was standing still, and who was still receving Erin’s cum inside of her. When Erin looked at the woman he gasped, turned back, and tried to scream. But it was too late. The door of that small space at the edge of the basement shut tight, the light that wasn’t there which provided Erin the view he had going down suddenly disappeared, and all he saw was darkness. The next day, a janitor screamed for someone to help as he found Erin’s lifeless body nestled and lying on the entrance of the basement. His body was pure white, like no blood was left inside of it, and his eyes were all white as well. The janitor thought he had committed suicide, and so did the rest of the Oaks community, and Erin’s parents, shortly thereafter.

As news of the unfortunate incident spread across the community, the school tried to close off the basement, but was only met with failure, as another student, this time named Lance, saw a white linen cloth, so pure and so clean, and with the faint smell of lavender, fly and float away into the basement beneath. Unfortunately for him, the white cloth was caught by the corner of his eyes while he was trying to walk past the entrance. And when he did get a glimpse of that cloth, he uncharacteristically followed it all the way down to the basement, as though he was being lured by that cloth for no apparent reason. Once there, among the darkness, the shadows of that old, reserve generator, the closets containing whatever extra things the college could keep, and the mysterious door at the very edge of the basement, he picked up that white linen cloth, and even if it flew down violently to the damp, dirty, and seldom used ground of that basement, it remained perfectly clean, perfectly pure, and its faint lavender smell was never diminished by the dust and decadence that surrounded it. In that floor, where Lance had the audacity to pick up, for seemingly no apparent reason, that cloth, more death awaited.

In the nights that followed, the seeming fate of Erin followed Lance. His experiences though, were a bit different: he had first heard the whisper of his name not when he went up the basement, but rather when he took a piss shortly thereafter. He had thought that one of his friends had been hiding in one of the cubicles to pull a silly prank on him, as he heard repeated calls of his name when he got there in that comfort room. He had also heard his voice swirl from all over corners of his classroom, and he had even fought with some of his classmates, believing that some, if not most of them, were calling his name, repeatedly and ferociously, in irritating whispers.

The whispers of his name continued in his home. He was not fond with his family, as it was their habit to go up to their rooms almost immediately upon coming home. Thus, he found it strange that someone from downstairs, or upstairs, or outside, or inside his home would call for him, in intermediate periods of the night, seemingly teasing him to come out of his shell of a room. He had argued with his older sister, whom he thought was the original progenitor of that now very irritating prank. But he found no answer in her words. He had also consoled, seemingly for the first time, to his mother, the moment that he thought of himself too crazy to continue with whatever was happening in his life. His mother simply smirked, told him that it could have been the effects of too much stress in school, and simply kissed his son in the forehead, an act so rare, so unique, that it drove Lance to tears that night of consolation. He had even tasked himself to finally, after quite a long period of time, to talk to his indifferent father. And, indifferent as the father was, the father only gave a silent stare, and told him to talk to his mother about the problem.

Lance would later find himself daydreaming, disillusioned with the realities that surrounded him by day, as the continue whispers of his name, much like Erin, bothered with his sleep. He would walk around school, like a zombie would in a pack of people, and he would not heed calls for him to hang out, or go out, or make out, as was his custom before.

Lance was the typical cool kid at school, if anyone were to doubt it. He had lots of friends, was also athletic, as he was part of the school’s baseball team, and he even had the face decent enough to go out with different ladies in as many months. As the weeks passed since he had found that linen cloth, all those previously mentioned associated of Lance began to dissipate before him. He, being a walking zombie, often fought with his friends, his very evident eye bags tumbling with every shout and every saliva he lashed out to those he thought were playing that very bad prank. He also had to shout at his then current girlfriend, who had the intention of consummating their relationship even, to the spurned reaction of the disillusioned Lance. He, as early as three days from picking up the cloth, also forgot, and forgone, attending baseball practices. His mother was called at school to report Lance’s seeming lack of interest, shortly after their consoling conversation at home, and this prompted his mother to seek professional help for him. The psychiatrist couldn’t get a word out of Lance, as he stood, in every session, refusing to sit at the Psychiatrist’s chair. What was odd for the doctor was that, Lance would ask him if he had heard what he had just heard. The psychiatrist can do nothing but to declare Lance to have had a mental breakdown sometime during the founding of the cloth.

In all of these, walking like a zombie, refusing friends, frustrating family, he had kept one close friend, a friend he had the oddness to talk to almost every night, a friend he would always brought wherever he went: the white linen cloth. He wakes up, smells the cloth, goes to the bathroom, and upon going outside, would whiff again that infernal cloth. The weeks that he always heard his name whispered in his ear, he talked to the cloth and asked of it what he was experiencing. The cloth, soft, undented, and perfect in whatever way, was there silent, and Lance smiled at it even as he was deteriorating.

There came a point that complete and absolute silence overpowered Lance. He would sit, in the corner of his room, and just touch and feel and caress the linen cloth. There was an aura, resonating from it, that kept him as such. He was pulled in by that powerful aura, and he wanted nothing more but to feel and caress and smell that faint lavender smelled linen cloth. He would even touch himself, perversely, and try to rub that linen cloth all over his crotch, his hard cock, and his shaft. He would cum and he would wipe with that linen cloth, and then he would smell it. The unholy combination of the smell of his cum and lavender pleasured him so. He would try to explain, however, what would occur when he woke up from that perverse act. He would find the linen cloth good as new again, as though it had been thoroughly cleaned all the night, which prompted him to spy on his family members if anyone did, and dared, to do so. No one did, though. This prompted him too to investigate what truly is the nature of that ever pleasurable cloth. One day, this drove him to almost complete madness when, upon taking another whiff of the cloth while waking up one morning, the faint smell of that lavender seemed to have gone and past. He would smell, again and again, and yet, there was no smell. Its perfect white and its perfect suave was not enough for him now, as he had wanted, among anything else, to smell beautifully that faint lavender smell. This was, in the first place, what drove him to it.

One night, as he was panicking and deeply breathing whilst in a fetal position in his bedroom, alone and starving for that smell, he suddenly smelt of that faint lavender, as his door was opened, ever so slightly. He followed the scent, and it was coming outside, so he ran, together with the cloth, downstairs, where the smell would lead him outside his house, in his pajamas, and his sleeveless shirt, nary a slipper nor a shoe to accompany him. He ran to that smell, which grew ever stronger as he walked and followed it, despite the heavy rains and thunderous roars of that evening. The smell led him to his school, which now, that it was gated better, made it quite a task for him to enter. He had picked up a big rock from somewhere, and smashed that gate open, until it cracked and welcomed him. Lance followed the smell still, and as he realized that it was actually inside of the school building, he immediately smashed one of the windows, with whatever hard thing he had found, and proceeded inside.

Inside, it was pitch black, without a hint of light or even a reflection of it to guide him there. But he had no problem. He simply closed his eyes, and followed the faint smell of lavender. Eventually, he was led to that infernal place, the basement, where he had originally found that infernal cloth waiting for him, causing him all these troubles the past few weeks, leading him to the brink of insanity, and of dependence, to that faint smell. As he entered the basement, he knew that he had found his jackpot, the faint smell became more and more robust, and all of a sudden he had found his way through the treasure trove of the smell, in all its pure glory, of lavender that almost no one else in the world had smelled of it. The lavender smell was being blocked by a wooden door, as he felt it only with his hands, still him being in complete darkness. All the tables and all the closets, even the reserve generator, almost made way for him as he was being led to that door at the edge of the basement. As he touched, almost to the point of caress, the wooden door, he found his way to its knobs, which he opened, there he wondered. The smell suddenly disappeared. He was locked from behind and he found himself trapped in that small space, for which the door guarded every so secretly. He panicked, he screamed, and then the smell came altogether, stronger than before, and all at once, which silenced him immediately. He smelled and smelled and smelled, which forced him to kneel down, and then, as soon as he smelled where it was greatest, he was greeted by hair, and something wet, and something that was throbbing and dripping. He smelled it even further, and, as sure as he was, he was smelling a vagina, pure lavender, so strong, so perverse, yet so pulling him into bliss. He looked up, even though he could see nothing, and touched whatever there was, and indeed he touched two perfectly round breasts, nipples sticking out, and he touched them, toyed with them even, and as soon as he did so he was met by two other hands, pushing him to go harder for those breasts. The hands, he knew, belonged to the woman in front of him. And, even without a thought of question, he started licking the woman in front of him, as he was caressing, every perversely, the breasts with both his hands. He felt the hair rub against his nose, he went deeper, and he felt that the woman had opened her legs gently to receive his face. He tipped his tongue in the vulva he felt was throbbing wet. He looked for the inside, and pushed in and out his tongue, as this made him very, very hard. He felt the woman groan with excitement, and this act only made her wetter, her nipples too were throbbing from all the foreplay they were experiencing. The woman then pushed for Lance’s head, to go deeper, to lick more, do more aggressively, to which he obliged. The woman then turned her back against Lance, bended over. She wanted him to lick her asshole. Lance was adamant to do so, but he found that even her anus smelled of lavender. He licked it from the vagina to the asshole, and when he got there, he even had the temerity to lick it all around, and he even bit the woman’s ass from cheek to cheek, and this made the woman cringe and cringe, and scream. The scream even let out that smell of lavender, so this made Lance go up to her, and kiss her in the lips. He kissed her vigorously, penetrating the woman’s mouth with his tongue. The woman parlayed with her own tongue, and there they exchanged wondrous saliva. Lance felt that he was actually tasting pure and unadulterated lavender itself.

The woman groped for Lance’s crotch next, and it was already rock hard. She went inside her pajamas and into his boxers, and there she toyed with Lance’s balls. Lance openly made his legs available, and stretched towards her. He unfurled his pajamas, his boxers, and the woman got a clearer picture, so to speak, of all that was below Lance. The woman kneeled before him, as she had seemingly wanted to do all along. She continued to toy with his balls as she was kneeling down, and as soon as she did, she kissed gently, with her salivated lips the head of Lance’s cock. She kissed further, and made her way up and down his shaft. It was bigger than the average Joe, to the delight of the woman, and this made her swoon and giggle. She tried to swallow it all at first, and almost made her choke. Lance was perplexed as to how she could take all of him inside her mouth, but she did so admirably, and did so with the most exciting results. She continued to grab for Lance’s balls, now with her tongue, and toyed with it, from ball to ball, using her mouth. She also grabbed his ass and squeezed it tightly, and this was reminiscent of what happened to the teenager who recently died there, Erin.

The woman continued to pull for Lance’s cock, and she played and masturbated it with both her hands, as she was kissing, and licking the head. Lance cringed and panicked even that he may release prematurely, but, as soon as he smelled of that lavender filling the room, his nerves were calmed, and he experienced an almost perfect bond of sexual perversion. He continued to place his hands on top of the woman’s, and pushed it towards and against him, as the woman simply opened her mouth wide and received him whole. The woman also tried to insert her finger inside of Lance’s ass, as she was sucking his cock, and Lance felt uniquely pleasured by this. He tried to open up his asshole for the woman to continue.

As the sexual tryst came to complete fruition there, the woman stood up and opened herself to Lance, this time she bending over, her head almost to her knees, but her ass, her vagina, if ever there was light for Lance to see her, he would see everything in front of him, with so much lustfulness it would make the holiest of men to sin.