101 EROTICA STORIES (115 page)

Lance placed his cock neatly on top of the woman’s asshole first, then went down gently and, as he was slapping both cheeks of the woman, he toyed with his head as against the woman’s very wet vulva. He found it exciting and she found it exciting, and the woman rubbed herself against the cock, from one end shaft to the next, and went so far as to rub her clitoris up against the balls of Lance. Lance was powerless now as he tried to insert himself, at first gently, inside of the woman. The woman screamed whisperingly, and as Lance was going for her mouth to insert his finger for added bliss, he found that the woman was biting her lips, of course from the pleasure.

Lance then tried to put himself, vigorously now, in and out of the woman, as he put his hands unto the woman’s hips and commanded her. The woman placed her hands on the walls as Lance did this, and the length between the was just enough for the small space of that room.

Amidst the heavy rains you could hear the thumps their bodies produced as it banged against the walls, and you could hear the wet, almost sponge-like sounds that Lance’s cock was doing to the woman’s very wet vagina.

Lance couldn’t handle himself, seemingly for the first time, to cum outside, so as soon as he did so, he released everything inside, without worry and without care, and the woman graciously received all of this cum, as it blended with hers. Lance didn’t stop there, as soon as he came, he led the woman’s face unto his crotch for the woman to suck him more. Lance was a vigorous, and quite athletic individual, and all the silence and non-activity he had constrained himself for those weeks of addiction with lavender smell did not seemingly appear in that particular evening, as he was showing signs of his former strength.

The woman gladly opened her mouth once more, this time she was deep throating him even more, to a point that Lance thought he was already reaching the end parts of the woman’s esophagus.

The woman then reached for her still throbbing vagina and fingered herself, her clitoris still visible after cumming hard just moments ago. She again released a spray of cum, and Lance knew this as her mouth trembled while still holding his cock. Her saliva covered beautifully almost every inch of Lance’s cock, as she went deeper still with her fingers inside her, and with Lance’s cock inside her mouth.

Lance wanted to cum again, and this time, in the darkness and just a colorful image of what the woman looked like to his mind, he came all over the woman’s face, still kneeling down, and still with vagina pulsating as it had continuously done so since the sexual tryst began.

Lance was content, he even had to rest his back on the walls and eventually slip his way down to the ground for a sit. This time though, he did not smell of the lavender that had led him there. The woman was standing over him, still her vagina facing Lance’s head. As Lance thought that the woman wanted to have another lick, Lance did so. To his appalled surprise, it was as though he was now licking rotten meat, and he could, as if, feel maggots squirming as he did the woman’s vagina. He wanted to remove his face, but the woman overpowered him and pushed his face even deeper to her vagina. Her vagina then opened up, opened up so big that it welcomed with ease Lance’s whole face, which was as though being eaten by it. In reality, it was, Lance was being eaten by the woman’s vagina, and it continued to swallow Lance whole, his shoulders, his arms, his chest, and up to his legs, until he was gone.

The next day, Lance was seen dangling on top of the school building’s flag pole, his neck being wrestled by an old rope. He was naked, head to toe, and people were aghast as to the ghastly scene. Lance’s mother committed suicide, much like what they thought Lance had done, and the community, silent and quaint and peaceful as it was, received its second great and unusual tragedy in such a small period of time.

In the town’s small cemetery was an old man, standing in the middle of it, his hat and cloak barely revealing who he was, but everyone knew because of his sad and silent demeanor. Behind that old hat and those ragged cloaks was old man Ralph Sage, probably in his 70’s, no kids, no wife, no anyone to be with him every time he wakes up. No one, except maybe for the grave that he constantly visits. He gives his respects to everyone who sees him, and those who know him well, a very few of them in fact, know that he is good, and kind inside. For those who regularly see him though, they see an old man who always fettered his emotions and who always failed to give out more than a simple and small smile. He works at his own small toy shop, inherited from his father, who had almost killed himself through liquor, thanks to the grave that he is now visiting.

This was his usual Sunday afternoon visit to probably the only person close enough to know who he really was and what he really is. The grave was dead center among all the other graves in that small cemetery. It was also the cleanest of the graves, and if someone were to see it, one would immediately notice that someone must have cared so much for that person to always clean her gravestone.

The gravestone reads: “Alice Sage”, “1945-1965”. From her name alone one could deem it that this was a relative of Ralph, the old, silent man who, despite the continuous heavy rains that Sunday afternoon, went there to visit her.

You could hear, from all the rain, the whisper that Ralph was saying on the grave.

“Sorry”, is what you could hear. That second, the floor was home to one of Ralph’s tears, as it was flowing heavily with the rain. It was, unbeknownst to anyone there in that small town of Oaks, Alice Sage’s 50th death anniversary. Ralph’s grief could not be contained, and as the rains continued to pour heavily, it was as though the heavens itself cried with him.

Alice was a kind woman, a woman of promising future, a woman that had also promised her one and only brother that she would take care of her, and that they would duke out all the problems that came their way, growing up together in a broken home with a beer bottle as a sibling, courtesy of their father. She was born and grew at a time where the town of Oaks was a poster child for rural living, where the farms grew rich with every good harvest and the trees swayed perfectly with the cool wind. The town was home to typical southern style cooking that was enjoyed by a plethora of visitors who took time to enjoy the good all around feel of the town those days. People those days grew up to be big football fans, and almost every store would be closed and every car would be parked whenever the college football team would have a game there. The town remained peaceful, and was pleasingly quiet then, until of course, Alice was the one who would seem to break that streak of good, of kindness, of heart that the town was so full and vibrating of.

It was 50 years to the day when Alice, a promising young student, who had just recently found, as she thought she would find, love with a man named Jeremy Andrews, both of them 20, both of them typical youngsters who would try to sneak their way on the back of the gym and make out, was suddenly found dead in front of the school gates, blood oozing from within her, killed by a malefactor or malefactors, even, that up to this day had not tasted the hand of justice.

Ralph Sage, his older brother, was not with Alice the days leading to, and after her death, for the very reason that he had tried to apply for work in a nearby city, him having just finished his college education there. This, to him, was his fault, and why he was, since her death, continuously saying sorry to her over and over again as he visits her grave every Sunday afternoon. He had also promised, just before he went to the City to look for a job, that he would help Alice finish college and help her earn her own degree. Unfortunately, this promise never came to fruition.

Going back to 50 years ago, police investigators found it hard to pinpoint who exactly was the person responsible for the death of Alice Sage. They had found trails of blood from the school building itself, and the last drop of blood was seen just before the entrance of the basement. The investigation took its toll on the already drunkard father of Alice, as he drowned himself in that pool of alcohol a mere 2 years after her death. Ralph, too, was devastated so much that all the promising careers waiting for him in the city were let go, all so that he could be in that town and make his own investigation himself.

Police Inspector Andrews, the person who led the investigation had reported the case cold after almost 7 years of steady investigating. He also had to sadly report that some of the evidence that could have pinpointed the killer of Alice was lost in a fire accident that razed half of the police force’s records.

Ralph found this quite suspicious, and as he went to the fire razed building himself, he noticed that only few policemen had the audacity to investigate. He asked further questions as to why the police were not investigating the fire thoroughly, but he was shunned, to a point that his persistence led to an arrest by the police, and a warning that he should not meddle with the fire to begin with.

Ralph tried desperately, for the next years to personally look into his sister’s case, to find out the people she were last seen as being with.

One person, that Ralph had immediately thought of as responsible upon news of his sister’s death was Jeremy, his sister’s then, and only, boyfriend. Ralph went to Jeremy, asked him persistently as to how and when and where and what they were doing last when they were together. Jeremy admitted that they had been making out in a cinema, as what they were used to doing then, when he last saw Alice. He said that he left Alice from the cinema because he was being called by his brother who was waiting for him outside, so that they could run some immediate errands from home. Jeremy’s brother too was asked by Ralph to confirm this, so too did Jeremy’s parents, who all blatantly and even angrily told Ralph that what Jeremy was telling was the truth.

Ralph had not given up though. He tried, although desperately, to look for additional clues. He had asked other police officers who had taken part in the investigation to tell him of the lost evidence caused by the fire. These officers, for the life of them, did not remember, or even recall, most of the evidence.

He was almost a student in the college when he investigated, trying to ask almost everyone who knew Alice of the last time they saw her. They tried to help, with their innocent kindness, but Ralph was still searching for answers. It was as though he had searched carefully every inch of that college building, and methodically searched as to the possible places where his sisters could have been killed. He remembered too that the trail of blood came or started somewhere near the basement of the school, which he also searched inch by inch. Apart from the generator and the closets and the tables, he had found no other clues. He did not bother going into the lone room covered by an old dilapidated door at the end of the basement, as he said that it would be impossible for his little sister to have gone that deep, as he knew that she was smart beyond her years to even dare to do so.

Ralph had seemingly given up on the investigation some 20 years after his sister’s death. Whatever was left of the house they lived together in he sold to another couple who had moved in from the town. The couple though, immediately left the town after just a year of staying in the house. Given that they were “spooked” by some unknown things inside it.

Ralph resolved himself to sell toys, he being a proficient toy maker during his college days so he could earn his way to a degree. He bought a store, on the seemingly last place of the commercial road of the town, and he restrained himself to saying sorry over and over again, for feeling that he had failed his sister.

As Devin, a bright, athletic, and gifted young man was walking past the basement entrance, he noticed a white linen cloth being whisked away in there. He was tempted, as unusual for his nature, to follow the small cloth, which he thought belonged to one of the girls, and which he thought would earn him good praises from whoever owned that said cloth. When he went down there, he saw the cloth, immediately down by and lighted by the dim yellow and lone bulb of the basement.  He had not noticed this light bulb before, as he had once gone into the basement to get some tools, and he remembered having to use a flashlight at the behest of the janitor who said that there was no light in that basement. When he picked up the white linen cloth, he, as all other people before him, wondered why it was so clean, and so pure to look at. He glanced once more, getting a glimpse of the broken down generator and the closets and the tables, and even had, strangely enough, clear vision to see a menacing wooden door at the end of the basement. He had wanted to go in, as if someone was inviting him inside, but his wits knew better. So, cloth in hand, he picked it up and went outside the basement.

When he was outside though, he didn’t bother to look for possible owners of that clean, white linen cloth. He had noticed only a red blotch on the side of it. It was crimson red, very ominous in color, as though of blood. It smelled strangely of lavender, but the scent was strong and not faint at all, contrary to what Erin, and Lance both experienced. He had no trouble sleeping at night, but he was so engrossed with the white linen cloth he had found. He found it strange why he was so pulled to it. He found that it had given him a good amount of inspiration, as whenever he would touch it as it was neatly tucked inside his pockets just before exam, he would do marvelously well. He was even fond of smelling it so much, and he had given it a good amount of cleaning almost every week, with different detergents and what-not, and noticed that the smell of strong lavender never disappears.

He would talk about this linen cloth to his mother, who found it strange that his son was so engrossed by it. He did not tell this, though, to his other friends.

One night though, weeks after finding the cloth, a voice whispered in the wind, as though it entered singularly and stealthily to his bedroom window. The voice was calling for his name, with all sweetness, and with a sense of sexual invitation. He was forced to stand up and look at the woman he thought was calling him outside their residence.

He found it strange though, that a woman indeed was standing there, in the middle of the road, wearing a school uniform, standard issued, something that had not been seen changed in about 50 years. The woman was beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman Devin had ever seen, he thought to himself. The woman too had very inviting, very innocent eyes, as it gleamed and shined perfectly with the moonlight, as she was standing in front of their house, looking at Devin through his bedroom window.

The girl was calling to him, telling him to come down, and when Devin decided to, she was gone.

The morning after he immediately asked his family if they had seen a girl outside the other night, and even asked their neighbors, persistently even, if they did see such a woman. All of them told negatives to Devin.

He had looked at almost every woman in school, as they were all wearing what that woman was wearing that night. He went to the library and searched for college pictures and yearbooks, trying, although strangely for him, to desperately look for the woman and know her name.

For all these acts, he did not forget to bother and touch the white linen cloth with his hands, as it filled his pockets, and filled it alone. He would smell it, vigorously now, it seemed, and with every smell he seemed ever so empowered to search for the lady.

His search ended in premature vain as he had spent already almost a week at the library, and almost every corner of town, searching for the woman, and her name.

One day, though, he was sent by his mother to buy a good gift for his little sister’s upcoming birthday. Devin, ever the caring older brother, wanted to buy her something special. And what better way, he thought, of finding the perfect gift than scouring the toy shop located at the very edge of the commercial road of the town, the one owned by old man Sage, as the people are so fond of calling him. It was a Sunday afternoon and Devin went to the toy store, which was locked. He had rarely been in the toy store to know that the owner was visiting the cemetery at that particular time.

As he waited by the toy store, he took a glance of what was inside. He noticed a small picture frame, neatly placed in the owner’s counter inside, and he noticed something familiar about the person there being presented by the picture. As he tried to clear the glass for a second, clearer look, old man Ralph Sage acknowledged his presence, and, as Devin pleaded for him to open the store for him to buy his sister’s gift, Sage let him in.

Inside, he was distracted with all the carefully and masterfully made toys by old man Sage. This was, oddly enough, the first time that Devin came inside that store, as he was never fond of toys, unlike most kids. He looked at the dolls, the automatons, the puppets, almost everything, and as he looked by the owner’s counter he saw what for him was the perfect gift for his sister, a stuffed toy pony, pink with perfectly gleaming hair and with eyes bright enough that any young girl would covet. He pointed immediately for the toy, and then he saw the picture, which was just near it. He was taken aback, he gulped, and stopped his breath. He looked closely, cleared his eyes, squinted, and there, clear as any picture could be, framed the face of the woman he saw almost a week prior. He was aghast of the sight, and he could do nothing but ask immediately who that was to old man Sage.

“Sir, who’s the woman in the picture”, he asked nervously.

“That’s my sister. Was, my sister”, bluntly said Ralph Sage.

“She… She’s dead?” asked the perplexed and visibly confused Devin.

“Yes, 50 years now”, said Ralph Sage, who wondered of the sudden interest of the young man.

Devin paid for the toy pony and raced his way home. He searched the internet of the death of the girl 50 years prior, as he was scared to ask the old man of the specifics. A lone news article graced his browser and detailed the events of the death 50 years ago. He noticed something that made him even more nerving, he noticed the name of his father, Jeremy Andrews, in that news article, being mentioned to be the dead young woman, for now she knows to be named Alice Sage’s boyfriend, and last companion.

As soon as he read this, he immediately went downstairs to look for his father, who, according to his mother, went outside to buy some groceries. He rushed to the school, and even though it was Sunday, asked a janitor friend for the keys, entered it, and immediately went for the school library. He searched for the yearbook about 50 years ago, and there he saw the face of Alice Sage, the same as the picture he saw in the toy store, with the same eyes and the same smile that greeted him that fateful night. He also saw the face of his father, Jeremy Sage, who had only married his mother when he was in his late 40’s already.

As he was reading, alone in that library, in that school, that dusking Sunday, he saw the woman, whose face had been plaguing him for about a week now. The woman was standing at the entrance of the library, just enough for Devin to get a full glimpse of her, who was staring at him, smiling, and seemingly inviting him to come over to her for them to be together.

Devin initially refused, afraid of who, or what, was standing in front of him. But it was, eventually, as what happened to both Erin and Lance, the smell of the strong Lavender emanating Alice’s direction that led him to her. As he was walking to her, she immediately walked off, and downstairs, where Devin ran and tried to follow her. He could only see her school uniform racing off further downstairs, and he eventually got to where she had wanted him to be led: down the basement.

The basement then was dark, but as soon as he entered it, and as he was following Alice, in all her school uniform glory, the dim lightbulb that had strangely been recently installed there suddenly turned on. There he saw Alice, leading him to the edge of the basement and into the dilapidated wooden door. Devin knew that there could be something wrong that would happen, hey, that was how smart he was, he thought to himself. But his emotions, his urge to be with the woman, strangely as it was, got the better of him. So he followed her there.

Meanwhile, Devin’s father, Jeremy Andrews had just gotten home when his wife, Devin’s mother, told of how Devin suddenly raced outside, and before that was looking for him. Jeremy Andrews thought this as strange, and he went upstairs to check on his son’s room, if only to get a better clue of what was going on, Jeremy Andrews a retired cop, as was his nature. When he got there, he was shocked by what Devin had unceremoniously left in his bed: the white linen cloth, smelling of lavender, with a red blotch on the side. He had not seen that cloth for about 50 years as he recalled, and he immediately went outside, just as though what his son did moments earlier, to look for the latter.

Jeremy was shouting desperately, looking for his son, wanting first of all to know where and how he got of the white linen cloth. It was still clean, it was still pure, and aside from the seemingly growing red blotch on the side, it was still a beauty to behold. In the eyes of Jeremy, though, this was an abomination.

As he was racing towards every corner of the town to look for his son, he had remembered the events of 50 years prior. He remembered how he had led a young Alice Sage into the basement, for them to do a most foul deed. He remembered how he had asked young Alice about how much she loved him, and that if she did, then she would do what he asks of her. He remembered how she initially refused, after more than an hour of making out in the gym that night, when no one else was around. He remembered when she finally gave in, and when they went to the basement, turned on the dim yellow lightbulb there so they could do something that Alice had not even done before. He also remembered how they heaved and kissed and breathed each other and push each other, at the edge of the basement, and started kissing her, caressing her, going for her breasts, for her thighs, going inside the panties of young Alice with his fingers, who noticed a wet, but reluctant yet very excited vagina waiting for him. He also remembered, now as he was running in the heavy rains that surprised the town that Sunday dusk, of how they pushed each other still to go inside that damp, dark room at the edge of the basement, and lock each other up, in the lips, in the legs, in the room, and continue to kiss her and love her and make her his for time eternal. He was crying, of the pain that he had given the girl, of the regret, as he remembered still how, when he tried to pull the skirts of young Alice down, of how her vagina was seemingly so excited that it didn’t matter now even if Alice was a virgin. He remembered how she pulled down his pants, and her panties with his hands, and both enjoyed the seemingly mindless but seemingly never ending passion that all young people share. He remembered how they both drowned in ecstasy, how Alice willingly gave her all for him, and how he accepted her fully. He remembered how Alice would bend over for him, so that she would properly, and fully receive all of his cock with her tight and pulsating vagina, and he would remember how, after it was all over, they rushed up and kissed each other until they went out of the basement, and he would remember how little trickles of blood had come from Alice’ vagina, a sign of her now non-virginity, had seemingly left trails, but for which they did not seem to care for. Then he remembered the faces, of 3 people he had seemingly forgotten, handling chains and waiting for them, seemingly. They were all high on drugs, and as they neared both of them, he tried to put Alice behind him, but the 3 pushed him back, and Alice was left defenseless. The high and purely evil men did what all of the recidivists do, they killed Alice. And this man, who had left his lover to die, ran as fast away from the scene as possible, because of fear of him being next. He remembered, and finally, how he left the dying Alice to bleed to death on the entrance of the school grounds, and there he was remembered of how his father orchestrated the burning of the police station, so that the records revealing the blood in the white linen cloth found in the basement of the school belonged to Jeremy and Alice alike, and how it was left there unceremoniously. He continued to gasp for air as soon as he got to the school grounds, which he thought would be the place where his son would be.