So Paul Dies…

A Green Apple by derwinmch“What happened?” Paul sat up.

Dr. Koskos looked right through him. “Time of death?”

“Time of whose death?”

“Twenty-two fourteen, sir,” the petite brunette nurse to Koskos’ right answered.

Koskos pulled the surgical mask down from his mouth. “That’s it. That fucker better get the chair.”

Paul watched as both doctor and nurse turned away. “What fucker?”

“The fucker who killed you. Some guy put a knife in your chest, that’s what happened,” the grey haired man answered and bit down on the green apple he held to his mouth. The crunch of his teeth into the fruit drowned out all other sound in the room. His eyes followed the ass sway of the brunette nurse. “Fuck, she’s cute.”

Paul checked his head and felt his own greying brown hair. His hands next searched his body for holes. “I’m okay, though? It was all a dream?”

The man laughed showing pieces of partial eaten apple between his teeth. “Your dead, you stupid fuck. Look what you’re sitting on.”

Paul’s blue eyes looked down and around. Beneath him, on the surgical bed, was his own body with a large bloodied wounds in the middle of his chest. “Dead?”

“Well, mostly.”

Paul shook his head. “I’m mostly dead?”

“Yeah truth is your mostly dead…fact is, you’re dead. Oh, I’m Gus, by the way.” He jumped up from the rolling stool and stuck out an apple juiced palm.

“You said mostly.”

“So I did, so I did. Most seem to think death is the end.”

“I’m Christian, I don’t -”

Gus laughed. “Are you now? That fucker, Clancy, always gives me the religious shits.” He lifted the apple and bit again.

“Clancy?”

“Being you’re not really dead, I’ve no idea why Clancy wants to be involved.”

“Yeah, that guy…um, Chaucer? Chauncey?”

“Choice,” Paul corrected. “Derek Choice. I feel surprisingly calm about all this.”

“Don’t worry, that won’t last. Yeah, it was Choice…guy with the red hair. He killed you.”

“And who are you?”

“Oh, I’m Gus.”

“Yeah, I already got that, Gus. Who are you?”

“Oh, I’m here to guide you to the facts, my brother.”

“Guide?” Paul’s eyes followed a trail of bloody footprints that led to a large metal door.

“In the afterlife.” Gus took another loud bite with his green eyes widening to punctuate.

“Heaven?”

The belly laugh this brought caused Gus to spit out chunks of apple.

Face crinkling into fear, Paul tried again, “Hell?”

He bit again.

“Purgatory?”

“You will find neither Peter nor Lucifer here. Clancy, however, we must off to see.”

The first pangs of panic started to type through Paul. “Clancy?”

“The Irish King of the End. King Clancy is the one that greets all and hands out the assignments.”

“Assignments?”

Gus stood up and brushed the stray apple off of his chest. His tie-dye shirt and baggy jeans gave him a distinctly flower-child look with his long grey hair. “You think that we ethereals just float around with nothing to do?”

Paul climbed to his feet and looked back down at the body. “I’m really dead, then?”

“Yup, you are definitely dead.”

His blue eyes looked up at Gus. “What type of assignments?” He hiccupped.

“Oh, fuck.”

“What?” Paul hiccupped again, but harder.

“Shit, I fucked up. I thought you were dead.”

A beep of the heart monitor caught Paul’s attention. “I’m not…” He collapsed back into his body.

“Clancy’s gonna kill me.” Gus bit the apple again.

Paul’s eyes fluttered open again just in time to see the brunette nurse leading the charge back into the room. He could make out that she was barking orders, but the roar of the pain in his chest blocked out everything else.

Four days later…

Paul sat propped up in the hospital bed.

“Good thing you live here. Imagine how much this treatment would cost you if you were American. No insurance company would insure you after you died and came back.” Gus bit into a banana.

“Gus, if I’m not dead, why do I still see you?” Paul had watched for sometime as doctors and nurses passed Gus without seeing him. That left Gus as either a figment of Paul’s mind, or some ghostly apparition.

Gus shook his head. “Dude. If you’re alive, why have you had no friends nor family visit your bedside in four days?”

No answers crossed Paul’s mind.

“Take that cute nurse out there. Sally is gorgeous and afraid to talk to you.”

Paul agreed she was gorgeous.

Sally was a champion speed skater with muscular legs and stunning hips. She crouched, like a catcher ready for a fastball, and lowered herself on top of Paul’s erection.

He grasped her hips, just for the sensation of touching a perfect body. “You obviously have a thing for older and plumper guys,” he said between gasps of breath. “Fuck, those are awesome legs.”

She grinned and pulled the brunette hair out of the ponytail, allowing it to swing over her left shoulder.

“Breasts are tiny, though.”

The grin reversed, and the flash of her hand smacked him before he could react.

With the impact, Paul leapt back to the reality of sitting in his hospital bed…alone.

“Nice idea, that. I’d love to fuck her.” Gus laughed.

“It felt so real.” Paul’s hand stroked his chin to ease the fantasy slap sting.

“It could be.” Eyebrows raised and Gus grinned around the next bite of banana.

“What do you mean?”

“Clancy said I can still work with you. That’s why you see me.”

Paul’s eyes searched for more. “Okay.”

“You’re the dead guy, remember? Ready to start living?”

“So where do we begin?”

Gus grinned. “Funny you should ask…there’s this library…”

Wicked Wednesday

Blowing the Dust Off

43HJohn picked up the book and blew on it.

Dust flew away in fear. It then danced in the air with the filtering fall sunlight from the windows above acting as spotlight.

“Most of these haven’t been opened in a while.” Kelsey Harris took the book from his hands. The black pencil skirt hugged her hips tighter as she crouched to put the book on an empty shelf below. Standing back up, she adjusted her black rimmed glasses up her freckled nose. The black suit-jacket over her white blouse hid the rest of her form.

“That’s why you brought me here to close the place, right?” His leather jacket crinkled as he reached up to tilt another book back in order to see the title.

“Yes, Mr. Gregg, that’s why you’re here.” She pushed a stray strand of red hair, escaped from her tight pony tail, from her face.

“Please, John is good.”

“THAT’S NOT WHERE THAT BOOK GOES!” the voice hollered at them from down the aisle. The ball of a man had red in his face a veins popping in his neck. His white button-down shirt was already sweat-stained at the armpits and now half-untucked from the light blue slacks that strained to keep him in. He began to roll down the aisle towards them, picking up speed.

John stepped forward, “Please, sir, no need for…”

Kelsey stepped to the side. “Mr. Gregg, this is our Head Page, Tim Fieldstone.”

Tim stopped with a pudgy finger raised looking up at her. More sweat glistened on his crew-cut head. “Ms. Harris, you must put the books back where you found them. How else will the readers find them?”

Her hands held out and pushed on his chest. “Tim, what readers? Nobody uses this library.”

He stopped, shoulders heaving in an attempt to catch his breath. A near sob left from his lips. “We need to keep the books in order.”

“I know, Tim, I’m sorry.” She crouched, picked the book up and found the spot it originally came from to slide it back in.

Turning, Tim retreated to his rolling cart at the end of the aisle that was currently relieving him of the burden of the single book on top of it.

“Wow, that’s something,” John said with a chuckle.

“Tim’s harmless. He just needs to get laid.”

John laughed harder. “Okay, that’s an image I didn’t need. That must be horribly bad sex. I feel bad for the person…”

Kelsey’s eyes lifted to him and a grin formed before interrupting, “He’s a fantastic lay.”

Mouth now silenced, the best response John could think of was to blink.

“Men never look at another man’s feet. My friend Tim, over there, he proves the myths to be true. He may be young…um, twenty-two, I think…but he knows how to handle himself and he wears a size eighteen shoe. Plus, he’s shorter than I am which makes him the perfect height for me to bend…” She stopped herself with a light bite of her lip. “Oh, I think I’ve said too much.”

Another blink. All John could think of was Kelsey bent over one of the library tables while Big-Ball Tim took her from behind. Knowing her heels exaggerated it, but thoughts of a taller woman fucking the shorter rounder boy was oddly turning John on. His mind next drifted to the idea of lifting that skirt, himself, and lifting her against the wall.

“Mr. Gregg, will you take the job?”

With a nod, he snapped back to the matter at hand. “Ah, yeah…yeah, I will. How long?”

“We need the library ready to shutter at the end of classes in April.”

“Eight months.” He nodded. “This is a done deal then? The university won’t rethink their position?”

Kelsey sighed and shrugged, turning her back to walk towards the front of the library. “This is King West University, Mr. Gregg. All decisions are final…unless, of course, some generous benefactor stepped in with a major donation, they might reconsider. But this seems unlikely.”

He followed clicking cowboy boot heels on the scratched wooden floor. “Is there a deadline on that?”

“Probably, but I’m not sure.” She stopped and spun back. “Do you know of any benefactors, Mr. Gregg?”

“It’s just John, and no, can’t say that I do.”

Turning, she resumed her walk. “Well, I keep hoping. It will kill Tim when we close.”

“If, say, in two weeks or so that I decide I really like this place. Any issue if I go looking for one?”

Kelsey stopped in front of the checkout desk and offered her hand. “None at all.”

He grasped her hand and shook it tightly.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Gregg.” She turned and walked past the checkout and out.

He watched her go, crossing his arms and rubbing his chin.

“She’s too young for you.”

John jumped at hearing Tim’s voice. Not having heard the approach, he looked down and asked, “How did you…?” His eyes glanced back at the trail of Kelsey. “You’re too young for her.”

Tim shrugged and grunted. “Guess we could share.”

“What?” John’s mouth fell open.

Tim, however, had begun rolling away with his finger pointing up. “THAT’S NOT WHERE THAT BOOK GOES!”

Wicked Wednesday

Her Latin Lover…

I know we’re not in Sinful Sunday as often as we should be…not having a proper camera is one thing as I don’t find cell cameras appropriate for this…however, thought we’d share some of our adventure from this past Friday evening.

Being it is Thanksgiving in Canada, and was my third-annual 42nd birthday this past week, it was my birthday present to photograph Mrs Stranded giving thanks with her South American friend…

20141014 w Andres for SinfulSunday 3

 

SinfulSundayLips150

Slut in a Rain Storm

rainShe was a slut. She knew this, and smiled up at me from her knees.

Such a good girl, I thought, grabbing a handful of red hair.

This began as I left Merl in the session room earlier in the afternoon after hearing his “fucking hot story” that apparently had nothing to do with his time travel delusions at all. That he said he would be gone from the clinic concerned me. I expected to hear of his attempted escape at almost any time.

There was another problem, however. His story was much too hot for me and left me walking around with a semi-erection for the rest of my clinic hours.

It was also odd how Merl had known of Lacy. He was right that we had not yet slept together. Our third date was planned for three nights later on Friday and, with her staunch Conservative Catholic ways, I suspected sex was not happening anytime soon.

Thunder announced the pending rain in the distance as I hurried across the parking lot to my red Porsche Cayman. One of the perks of being very good at what I do was being able to afford a car like this. With a quick decision, I turned my car north on Highway 5 to head into Seattle. Pushing my headset into my ear I pressed the button and said, “Call Lacy Young.”

The sound of rain pelting the car took the volume in the car up significantly.

I was surprised the phone didn’t miss the words when combined with the rain sounds, but the soothing computer voice responded, “Calling Lacy Young.”

“Hi, you’ve reached Lacy and I’m not available. Please leave your name, number and message at the beep. Have a great day and God bless.”

A lightning bolt connected two distant clouds and lit up the steel-grey sky.

“Lacy, it’s Benz. I’ve had an emergency call and heading into Seattle for the evening. Might not be able to call tonight, but will see. Looking forward to Friday, though.” I pushed the button on the headset and it clicked off. Next, checking my mirrors to make certain no police were watching, I pulled out my mobile and quickly texted the words, “Tonight.”

The phone fell to the seat beside me.

Crinkling my nose at the smell of the diesel from the truck in front of me, I shifted gears, moved to the right lane and hit 75 mph.

The voices on the radio got louder on the radio as the knob was twisted. Their intellectual commentary on the poor weather was almost entirely unrivetting. This was Seattle, of course it was going to rain, but they still complained. The phone buzzed.

The responding text was a single word from Lori, “Where?”

I smiled and did not respond. Half an hour later I watched the valet take my car into the hotel underground as cold wet rain fell upon my face. Covering with one hand, I thumbed my response into the phone, “Oceanview Towers at Spring and Alaskan.” A five-star hotel seemed appropriate, but odd as I booked the room and had no luggage in tow. In the elevator I pulled out my phone again. “Room 1402.”

My phone buzzed just as the attendant slipped the cardkey into the door.

“On my way,” it read.

The attendant took the folded bill I handed her for her tip without question and let herself out.

I had not yet met Lori. This acquaintance began with my reading and commenting on her sex blog. We struck up an unusual amusing and flirty relationship. We often mused about getting together for fuck dates, but the talks were always playful and never felt as though intended to go anywhere.

Never planned until the one word text from the car. Dr Mitchell Benz…or simply Benz to my friends…however, had not expected her to be willing. If anything, I expected a night of flirtatious texting until the escort I would order arrived. This was something that had happened a number of times.

Being Lori was coming, no escort was called.

The massive room was decked out in solid wood furniture and a four-poster bed. A large window looked out over the rough Pacific Ocean that slapped against Seattle’s west side.

I swear that only five minutes had passed when the sound of knocking turned me around. It was a shock as there had been no time for me to doubt she would arrive. The door clicked as I turned the handle and immediately her hand was on my chest lightly pushing me back into the room.

Not as tall as I thought…she might have been five-five, but the stiletto heeled boots brought her up another four inches to just below my nose. Her reddish hair was straight and without bangs so I could see the big brown eyes her grinning face featured. Her dress was black leather, matching both her thigh-high boots and the collar around her neck.

As per our fantasy, there were no words exchanged.

With me against the wall, she lowered to her knees and began to work my pants open. She was a slut. She knew this, and smiled up at me.

Such a good girl, I thought, grabbing a handful of red hair.

No resistance, she took my direction and opened her mouth.

My erection, pre-formed in the car long before she got here, felt the warm wet of her tongue and almost caused me to whimper.

All of me was taken, every inch, until Lori gagged just slightly. She did not stop, however, and soon had a rhythm of a few light bobs before taking me deep again.

After my first cumshot of the evening, which was swallowed eagerly, she stood and moved to kneel on the bed. Bending forward, her skirt rode up to reveal no underwear…again, as we discussed. Red hair fell over her right shoulder as she turned around to grin at me.

The first time I heard what her voice would sound like was her shocked moan/gasp as my tongue hit her anus. Lowering behind her, my hands spread her ass cheeks and my tongue went straight there. The low growl she produced suggested she had expected cunnilingus before rimming.

Oh well. It wasn’t as though she were complaining.

With fingers in both her pussy and ass, my tongue moved between them just long enough to reload. The taste was exquisite. Then, onto my own knees, it was time to go balls deep and make my deposit. Pulling the red hair, I hit her with strong fast thrusts that pushed barks from her with each pump.

The phone buzzed on the room table, but I ignored.

Her orgasm rushed through her, pulling a scream from her lips just before my own semen exploded into her.

We both collapsed onto the bed.

Giggling, she shifted to her side and offered her hand.

“I’m Benz,” I said, accepting the hand in a comedic shake.

“Hi, Benz.” The smile on her face was wide.

“And you are…?” I asked mockingly. Sitting up, I reached over and checked my phone to find an email from work.

Three simple words caught my attention, “Merl has escaped.”

A knock sounded on the door.

She giggled and put a hand over her mouth. “Were we too loud?”

The serious look on my face stopped her laughing. It was not intentional on my part, but I guess my problem showed.

The knock sounded again.

Her look turned serious and her voice dropped. “You better get that.” It was more order than suggestion.

Blood drain from my face, but I did stand. With a quick stop for a towel in the restroom, I answered the door.

“‘Ello, Doc,” Merl said from the hallway with a big smile. “I see you’ve met our Lori already.” Towering over me, his eyes looked past me into the room. “‘Ello, m’lady!”

“Hi Merl,” Lori called back. “Nice of you to come.”

“So, Doc, I’m thinking it is time to go, no?”

Wicked Wednesday

A Slow Grind

snow-lightSteam lifted from the icy dark street.

It had been right the moment she had seen him in the doorway and, now as she bent over, all the tumblers were falling back into place.

“Can I help you?” Gerald had asked upon first seeing the Amazonian woman standing in the hall. He had been heading out for dinner and opened the door before she knocked. It was unusual for him, a lowly writing truck driver, to have such a goddess at his door.

“Gerald,” she said with a gasp and a growing smile. Her brunette hair was straight and fell well past her shoulders with bangs to just above her big brown eyes.

He took in her entire figure, hidden well by the black trench coat but hinted at with her skin-coloured stockings from the knees down. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Her eyes flared, showing her anxiousness. “No, you don’t.” Yet, she wanted to add, but didn’t. “I’m Savannah.”

He took the hand she offered to shake. “But you know me?”

Oh, fuck yes, again she refrained from being too forward on this. Jumping timelines had a way of fucking up realities and crossing streams.

Now, however, her reality was feeling his hands on her ass after lifting her skirts. Words were not part of their current communications, but his grunt had shown his approval of her wearing garters and no underwear even in such frigid temperatures. The warmth upon feeling the tip of his erection nudging between her legs and pushing inside more than made up for the cold.

At the door, she had never really considered what precisely to say. The look on his face had brought a moment of panic as she felt unsure the time and place of this meeting would work. What if this circumstance did not work as the swingers club had. Being, on this timeline he had never saved the young female alien on the side of a snowy Manitoba road, perhaps he would not be open to her as he had been.

His face, however, began to melt as though a mask were being ripped off.

When bubbles of time crashed together, nothing usually came of it other than déjà vu. However, when two different strong timelines were held together that would turn into “shocking revelations” or, in some cases, destroyers of sanity.

Gerald’s face registered recognition and memory of things that this version of his person had never experienced. “Who are Nigel and ?” he asked in a whisper. “I’ve never been to a swingers club.”

Savannah grinned at him.

“I think I need a serious drink,” he croaked before grasping her hand and leading her back down the hall.

“Gerald?”

He stopped and turned with wide blue eyes looking up at her. “I’ve so many questions for you but…um…I’m sorry, yes?”

“Shouldn’t you lock your door?”

This time the grunt was Savannah’s as she felt the entire length of Gerald push into her. At first she thought the pleasure was causing her to see stars, but then realized that snow had begun to fall on their alleyway retreat.

The drink had only been one as more revelations and non-existing memories came back to Gerald.

“You had questions,” she asked, sipping her wheat ale pint.

He nodded. “Yes, but my mind seems to be remembering answers on its own.”

“I figured.” She grinned at him and allowed her right hand to touch his arm.

“I need to fuck you,” he whispered. With how the colour drained from his face, these were obviously not words he expected to hear himself say. Based on his expression, however, her answer even surprised him more.

“Yes, you need to right now.”

Thus, they had quickly paid the bill and found their way to the alley. They had, at least, taken a moment to check for any monitoring equipment…but soon Savannah was bent over, supported by Gerald’s left hand squeezing her left breasts and his right hand with a handful of her brunette hair while she shoved her hips back against him.

Savannah’s first orgasm sent a shiver through her and was followed by a light moan.

Gerald regripped her hair for improved torque, and thrust harder.

Much faster than expected, a second orgasm began to send initial ripples through her. Feeling the cock between her legs warm more and tense before it erupted, drove her into a screaming orgasm the like that Savannah had never experienced before.

The two, in the falling snow, embraced in a mutual pant.

Eddy, even though his black coat was wet and cold, had watched the entire event. After his brown eyes followed Savannah and Gerald back to the door of the pub, he licked snow off his paws and stood on top of his fire-escape perch. A quick jump and he was trotting across the roof of the building on the southwest corner of River Avenue and Osborne Street.

The figure standing at the far back corner of the building waited for Eddy, watching his approach.

Stopping at the foot, Eddy sat in the snow and purred.

The man crouched, picked up Eddy into his arms, and pet the black cat. “You’ve done well, now show me.”

Had a bystander been walking past in the darkness, the area would have been lit purple by the eyes of both the man and Eddy as they flashed.

“Excellent,” he said. “We shall inform Graven that we have found her.”