He knelt before Mistress Afro. His hands on his thighs palms up and eyes cast down in proper slave fashion at her front door. He had removed his clothes and placed them in the box she left on the porch.

She smiled down at him at her, her eyes glittering and her mouth upturned in a smile. He had been trained and trained well.

“Yes?” She asked “What do you want?

“Permission to enter Mistress Afro Ma’am?” He said in half a whisper and normal voice.

“Please enter and welcome pet!” Mistress Afro said.

He crawled in over the marble threshold and followed behind her, glancing up at her long brown legs and firm buttocks. He did this not to leer lastly at her but to make sure he did not run into her.

She turned around and laughed at him a little.

“You are such a good subbie boy, aren’t you? She said and did not wait for an answer. “You didn’t know if you had my permission to stand, so you took it upon yourself to crawl. ”

She petted his bald head. “Good boy!”

“Now stand and let me examine my latest acquisition.”

He stood to his full 5’9 “height, his back straight.

She walked around him and she towered over him. He kept his eyes cast down at the floor.

“Not bad a little soft in the middle.” She said as she poked him with her Oak crop.

“Spread your legs!”

He spread his legs wide. She looked at his cock and balls.

“Well typical cock size for a white male and your balls are nice and big. Better targets for me to aim for” She laughed wickedly.”

She took the crop and tapped his balls. He bit his lip. She hit them a little harder and he winched a little but did not cry out.

“Good you are well trained!”

“Tell me little one have you played with yourself recently?”

He said softly “Yes Ma’am!”

She smiled at him and gave his cock a whack with the flogger.

“You will always address me as Mistress, never as Ma’am slave!” She growled.

“Sorry Mistress Afro.” He said somewhat annoyed with himself.

“Go over to the table!” She pointed with the crop. “And bring back what you feel I should punish you with”

He walked to the table and picked up a leather flogger. He started to walk back but she stopped him. “Did I tell you to walk yet?”

“No Mistress.”

“Crawl back with the flogger between your teeth and make sure you get no slobber on it.”

He took the flogger between his teeth, then knelt on the floor and crawled back to where she was waiting for him.

He raised his head toward her hand. She took the flogger out of his mouth.

She tapped the arm of her white leather couch.

He crawled over and then bent himself over the couch arm.

She raised the flogger and brought it down hard on his soft white ass.

“Count to twenty for me, pet.” She ordered.




And so it went till each side had twenty slaps.

She stepped out of the room and came back shortly. He stayed bent over the arm of the couch.

He heard the glop coming out of a tube and then she applied the cream to his tender red ass.

“This will help with the soreness “She said. “Now get back down where you belong”

He knelt back on the floor; she walked over to the couch and ordered him to sit in front of her.

“As a reward for being so good while I flogged you, you may remove my shoes and massage my tired feet.

He nodded and removed her 3 inch golden sandals from her feet. He took her feet in his hands and started to massage the soles of her feet. Her brown toes were very long.

“MMM you are doing a very good job, my pet.”

He nodded.

“You may speak freely “She said.

“Thank You Mistress Afro!” He said

Once he knew her right foot was relaxed he switched to the left foot.

She hiked up her white dressing gown and showed him her treasure.

“One day if you are really good, you will get to lick my treasure, my dear one.”

“Thank You Mistress it would be an honor!”

When she had enough of her foot massage, she had him follow her to her basement. There she opened a storage cabinet and took out something he could not see.

She turned around. In her hand she had two items. One was a training collar. The other a cock cage.

“Will you accept these two items as your loyalty to me? ” She asked him.

“Yes Mistress Afro, oh yes!” His eyes formed tears.

“Bow your head” She ordered him.

He bowed his head and she put the small collar around his neck. To the vanillas in the world it looked like one of those sports necklaces but this head a lock on it.

Inscribed was Property of Mistress Afro… She locked the collar around his neck.

Next she encased his cock and balls in the cock cage. She locked it. She put the key in a locket around her lovely throat.

“You can pee in it, but you not are able to masturbate unless I release you.”

He nodded and thanked her

“Now you go and put your clothes back on and go home, I will see you next week. Same time.” He reached down and stroked his white face.

“And shave off that poor excuse of a beard”

She slapped his still tender white ass before she opened the front door.

He heard the door close behind him and lock.

As he put on his clothes he thought to himself.

“What a wonderful woman my Mistress Afro is!”

This is purely a work of erotic fiction. All characters, places, and situations are entirely fictional. All sexually active characters are 18 years of age or older. All rights reserved.

*** CHAPTER 3 ***

We had entered the Green Mountain National Forest. It was some of the most beautiful country I had ever seen. There were mountains that looked like enormous, rolling hills covered with plush blankets of old hardwoods. In some areas, we could look out of the windows and see the landscape spread out below us like a beautiful oil painting. I was already enjoying my time in Vermont immensely, and not looking forward to my return to the relatively featureless Mid-West. Gradually, the roads became narrower, curvier, and less well-maintained as dark gray clouds began to form overhead. Visible signs of human habitation became scarcer and scarcer. Eventually, we rounded a corner on a mountain and saw a clearing in the woods ahead of us. I instinctively knew that we had arrived at our destination.

The old church was made of weathered stone and reddish-brown bricks in a style that was unmistakably a relic of previous centuries. Compared with many modern churches, it was relatively small. Tall, domed windows that were filled with ancient glass full of bubbles and swirls were set deep in the thick old walls. Vines snaked up towards the roof of a tall tower that probably served as a belfry on one side of the structure. The bricks were crumbling in places, and there were dark streaks of algae and thick pads of moss growing beside the vines on some of the shaded walls. In a circular window over the entryway, the dim sunlight reflected from a stained-glass depiction of Christ on the cross, which I judged to be a relatively recent edition. On the sides of the churchyard, the tall, dark trees of the ancient forest that surrounded the church had crept in close to the building. It was as though the forest itself was attempting a Cannae-style enveloping maneuver in an effort to reclaim its lost territory and erase any reminders that the tragic old edifice had ever stood there. A rusted and dilapidated wrought-iron gate surrounded a small cemetery. The tombstones inside of the churchyard were thin wafers of stone that had been cut in the patterns that had been popular two centuries ago, before the more robust modern blocks of granite came into vogue. The crooked headstones had been weathered until the antique italic letters on many of the age-blackened, moss and lichen encrusted relics were hardly legible. Some tombstones had fallen over entirely or had cracked in half. An apparent effort had been made to keep the old churchyard maintained, but even so brown, lifeless weeds surrounded the bases of some of the ancient stones. A melancholy air hung about the place like an invisible fog.

It was a mournfully beautiful scene, with the old-fashioned house of worship, the ancient forest, and the dim sunlight filtering down between the dark purple clouds that rolled across the gray sky. But here in person, a persistent, brooding sense of death and suffering seemed to hang disconcertingly in the air. I have been on enough paranormal investigations before to be pretty good at instinctively judging of whether or not a place is haunted. I felt slightly sick in the pit of my stomach, and I suppressed a shudder. Diana and I exchanged a concerned glance. Something was very definitely here, and Diana didn’t have to say a word for me to know that we both had a very, very bad feeling about it.

Erin’s face didn’t betray much in the way of emotion, whether joy for returning home or fear of the ancient evil that lurked here. Haunted or not, this sad old place was her childhood home. Kim, Sarah, and Heather remained silent and bore grave expressions on their face. Some primitive part in the back of our minds seemed to be screaming at us that there was something dangerous lurking here that the rest of our senses would be unable to detect. As we drove past the church and up the hill towards the parsonage, the threatening sense of a silent and invisible menace seemed to pass, and I was grateful for our reprieve.

The parsonage where Erin’s parents lived was a large, dignified-looking brick structure constructed in a blocky, formal-looking Edwardian style that I though might look more appropriate for a funeral home than a private residence. From our research, we knew that it had been built many years after the church building. There was a large brick-and-concrete porch in front of the building that was covered by an extension from the weathered gray roof. As we pulled the van into the shaded driveway that ran to the left of the house, an attractive older woman that had been sitting in a rocking chair on the porch marked her place in the paperback book she was reading, placed it on a table beside her, then walked down to greet us.

“That’s fine, just leave the van right there under those trees,” she said. Erin’s mother was a very attractive woman for her age, with just a few extra pounds of weight and a few gray hairs revealing that she was approaching her fifth decade of life.

The six of us dismounted the van, and Erin rushed forward to warmly embrace her mother. “Hey, everyone, this is my mother, Naomi. Naomi, that’s Kim, Diane, John, Sarah, and Heather.”

“It’s great to meet you all!” Naomi said with genuine warmth. “My husband will be back later. We have a parishioner that hung himself this morning, and David’s been busy with the family for most of the day. Suicide is always so hard on a family. Dinner is in the oven, and should be ready in about fifteen minutes. Erin, would you mind showing them where their rooms will be and where the bathrooms are?”

We took our personal gear out of the van, and Erin escorted us to the guest rooms. There were three guest rooms located upstairs in the house. Diane got a room to herself, and Sarah and Heather would share a room. Kim would be sleeping in Erin’s bedroom with her. As the only man, I got a room to myself. After we all took turns using the two restrooms that were available, we helped Naomi set the table.

“Lisa!” Naomi called. “Your sister and her friends from school are here, and we’re all sitting down to eat!”

“I’ll be there in just a second, Mom!” a female voice echoed down from the end of the dark wood-paneled hallway. “My boss just sent me a text from work. He has a question about some orders that a client placed last month. I’ll be right out, I promise.” The woman that was speaking had the sort of voice that sounded attractive and almost musical without trying at all, even when discussing issues as mundane as work.

A moment later, a strikingly beautiful woman with shoulder-length blonde hair appeared down the hallway, her feet clacking on the wooden floor as she walked in a rapid, business-like manner towards the table. When she saw me, she immediately stopped in her tracks and we stared at each other for a long moment. Erin’s sister, Lisa, was the beautiful stranger that had teased me as my own mother had mounted my cock during the dream that I had two nights before.

“Is everything all right?” asked Naomi, noting her daughter’s startled reaction with concern.

Lisa smiled beautifully at her mother. “Oh, yes, everything is just fine. I just thought for a moment that I knew this gentleman from somewhere, but after getting a better look at his face, I don’t think that I have ever seen him before.” Still, she regarded me with a troubled, thoughtful gaze numerous times over the course of dinner.

Naomi was every bit the cook that her daughter had described her as being, and I can say without any hesitation that it was among the most delicious meals I have ever eaten. I could have made a meal out of her homemade rolls alone! Glasses of sweet red wine that Erin’s father had skillfully crafted from local grapes complemented the exquisite cooking perfectly. I was concerned that we would have a hard time staying awake to do the investigation with the inevitable drowsiness that an overly-stuffed stomach leads to.

After we had all eaten and were sitting around the table, sipping on freshly brewed coffee and picking at the remnants of the pumpkin pie that Lisa had contributed to the dinner, Diana spoke to Naomi. “So, Naomi, could you please tell us a bit more about the old church, and what goes on there? Erin described some of the things that she’s seen to the rest of the club, but she says that you’ve seen some stuff as well, and we would like to hear a bit about your experiences from you.

Naomi sat there for a long moment, with her hands folded quietly on her lap. She looked at us guardedly, and spoke in quiet voice that didn’t need volume to fill the room: “When the bishop in charge of the diocese at the time told David to take over the church after the last rector passed away unexpectedly, I was against it from the beginning. I had a bad feeling about the whole place. David was fresh out of seminary, though, and didn’t think that an appointment to a church like this was something that he could afford to pass up. Lisa was only a few years old at the time, Erin was on the way, and he said that an appointment at a respectable old church like this would give us a place to live and raise a family, and it would provide us with financial security. The diocese was offering him several thousand dollars more a year to take this position than he could have gotten elsewhere, and they were still having a hard time filling the vacancy the last minister had left.”

Naomi poured herself another glass of wine. Her face was a stoic mask that betrayed a valiant effort not to reveal any emotion. But as she poured the sweet red liquid from the dusty green bottle, her hands trembled. “Almost immediately after we moved in, I would sometimes see lights in the cemetery at night. At first I thought that it was teenagers playing around in the cemetery, and I called the police because I was worried that they would vandalize the place. The police never found anything. I noticed that, during the day, when nobody else was in the church, I could hear footsteps. I’m not talking about noises in an old building with a settling foundation and a creaky floor. I grew up in an old house, and I know what that sounds like. I’m talking about clear, regular footsteps taking definite paths through the building. You can literally hear the strike of a heel and then the rest of a foot being set down. Both David and I hear them pretty frequently in broad daylight. It’s usually like someone pacing while they’re waiting for something, but sometimes I’ve heard several footsteps like it’s a group walking around together. Sometimes I hear knocks on the wall. Not like the building settling, but like someone hitting the wall with a fist. Then there were these smells. Sometimes, it was like rotting flesh, like… like, death, I suppose. But it comes without any explanation, in places that shouldn’t have smelled like that, and it’s gone just a few hours later so it couldn’t have been a dead animal. Electrical things in that building have always acted funny and very seldom worked right. The clocks are always having the battery die a just a day or two after you changed it, or being reset to weird times, or sometimes even running backwards. Sometimes the printer at the computer just starts spitting out blank sheets of paper when nobody is even near the computer. The fire alarms sometimes go off for no reason. Sometimes you might see something like movement or a disembodied, free-standing shadow, but it’s usually gone before you’re even completely sure you saw it. Sometimes when you’re alone in the building, you’ll see someone out of the corner of your eye, but when you turned to look directly at them, they’re gone. One time I was in the church alone, and I heard someone screaming and crying like they were in pain. It scared me badly enough that I called the police. Of course, they didn’t find anything and seemed to think that I was just calling them to get attention. I don’t know anyone that will go into the basement alone for any length of time. Nobody seems to know of anything that’s actually happened there, but there’s this… this feeling like something evil is down there and watching you.”

With Naomi’s words, I saw Lisa’s jaw set into a tight grimace and the color drained from her face. She set down her fork as though she had suddenly lost her appetite, but didn’t say anything.

Naomi spoke with a voice that was tight with emotion. “After we had lived there for a few years, I thought that Lisa was spending a lot of time talking in gibberish, and I told her to quit. But then Erin started talking like that, too, and they seemed to understand each other. This continued for years when they didn’t think I could hear them until one of the congregation members congratulated me on what a good job my children had done learning French, and he told me to get them some newer textbooks because nobody talks like that anymore. I never taught my kids French. They’ve never been around anyone that spoke French or could teach it to them. It turned out that they were fluent enough in it to have full conversations with people that spoke French, but they didn’t know the names of anything that has been around for less than two hundred years. They said that they learned it from the ‘White Dress Ladies’. I was terrified and asked David to quit his job and move away from here. He said that God would protect us, and the girls said that the ‘White Dress Ladies’ were their friends and they didn’t want to quit talking to them. I was so frightened, but it was impossible to get anyone to believe me and do something! Nobody could help.”

Naomi continued. “…And all that is during broad daylight! The whole time I’ve been here, I’ve only actually been inside that old church after dark once. That was enough for me. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was the secretary and treasurer of the women’s Sunday School, and there was a question about some of our finances, and I was in David’s office to get a piece of paper I needed, and I wasn’t planning to leave without it.”

“I went back to the corner of David’s office at the church where I had left the paper, and the lights all went out. All at the same time, like if the power had been cut. But the clock on his desk and the lights on his computer didn’t go out, so it was NOT the power going out.” Naomi’s voice had a defensive tone to it, as though she expected us to not believe her or to challenge her.

We do have to look for possible alternatives to a supernatural cause for things when we investigate a site, and we’re obligated as objective observers to remain open but skeptical of anything that we can’t independently verify. That said, we never treat a client with disrespect, and I am confident that every one of us believed that Naomi was telling us the truth to the best of her ability.

She sat there at the table in the cozy, well-lit kitchen with eyes that were still reflecting terror from almost two decades ago. “There, in the dark, there was just enough light to see. Barely. I was surrounded by these black shapes, like the silhouettes of a bunch of people in colonial costume. They didn’t reflect any light. They were like a group of solid, walking shadows. I screamed and closed my eyes, and believe me I was praying like I had never prayed before. After a minute in the dark, the lights came back on and I was in the room by myself. I thought that everything was over. I swear to you, nobody was there but me. I had shut the door behind myself when I came into the office. I started looking for the paper, then I started getting a really funny feeling. Then, I heard the voice of a man with a British accent yell “GET OUT!”, and then the door to the office slammed open with enough force to knock a crucifix off the wall. I ran out of that building as fast as I could, and didn’t stop running until I got home. I didn’t pick the paper up while I was there, but I found it crumpled and shoved inside my back pocket later that night. I’ve never been so scared before in my life, and I’m not going there again after dark. Ever.”

I looked at Naomi sympathetically. “Ma’am, if you don’t mind, can we ask you a few questions? When you heard the voice, how loud was it and what did it sound like? Did it sound like the voice came from somewhere in particular, and was this an audible voice, or was it something that sounded like you were just hearing it inside of your own head?”

Her nostrils flared slightly, and she regarded me with controlled anger. “I am absolutely positive that I wasn’t imagining it! I heard a voice, a loud man’s voice, like he was angry and yelling at me. And he told me to get out, so I did!”

Erin came to my defense. “Mom, I don’t think that John thinks you were imagining anything. Sometimes when ghosts communicate with people, it sounds like they’re speaking directly inside of your mind, and that doesn’t mean that you’re imagining it and I don’t think that John was trying to imply that you were. That’s how the White Dress Ladies used to talk to Lisa and me when we were kids, and it was clear enough that I can still speak in old-fashioned French when I want to, and I can even read in French if I sound the words out. But what you’re talking about, with an audible voice that’s loud enough to sound like a loud, clear shout… well, that isn’t common at all.”

Naomi’s anger seemed mollified, but her brows were knitted tightly, and she looked as though she might cry. “Well, that’s what happened.”

Lisa touched her mother’s arm sympathetically. “We have all had experiences there. How about this: Erin and I will give them a walk-through, and then they can start setting up before Dad gets home. Then, if it’s not dark yet, he can give them a tour and cover anything we missed.”

Naomi offered to stay behind and do the dishes while Erin and Lisa showed us around the church. On the walk towards the old building, Lisa told us much of the church’s history that we already knew from Erin, but it was still nice to get another take on it.

We unlocked a side door into the old building, and entered a narrow hallway lined with dingy yellow wallpaper. On the walls hung rows of framed paintings and black-and-white photographs of previous pastors. The church was eerily silent. Each small noise seemed magnified, and our footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor. Once we were all inside, Erin locked the door behind us.

Across the hallway from a stained and yellowing black-and-white portrait of some long-dead priest, Erin gestured towards a closed wooden door. She spoke, her voice echoing in the empty corridor. “This is Dad’s office. That’s where Mom saw the shadow people. We might want someone in there tonight.” Opening the door, she gave us a brief look at a nondescript clergyman’s office, with a desk, several chairs, a computer, printer, numerous papers and religious items, and several very full bookshelves. A brass crucifix hung on the wall beside the door, and was probably the one that had fallen when Naomi had seen the door slam open. It was heavy and solidly hung on a sturdy carpenter’s nail. It would not have come off of the wall easily.

It didn’t take us long to satisfy our curiosity there. Walking past several rooms, Lisa and Erin explained that the footsteps were frequently heard in the hallway as she approached a doorway leading to the nave of the church. Leading us into the large main room of the church, we found ourselves among rows of antique wooden pews made of dark wood that had been polished by years of use. Our footsteps echoed and creaked on the polished old hardwood floor. At the front of the room was a wooden altar hung with white and green cloth. In expertly carved Lombardic calligraphy, an excerpt from Luke 22:19 had been beautifully engraved into the aged wood: “This do in remembrance of me.” To the right of the altar stood an ancient baptismal font that had been carved of stone and had become darkened and worn by centuries of use. High above the altar was a large, exquisitely carved and polished crucifix of dark antique mahogany. Eternally frozen in a pose of sheer and unspeakable agony, the huge, masterfully carved statue of Jesus seemed to grimace down at us uncomfortably from its commanding position in the apse of the church.

The acoustics of the church allowed Erin’s voice to effortlessly fill the room. “A previous rector of the church made the altar and carved the crucifix during the late 1800s. This is the room that people sometimes hear a hair-raising sound like someone is screaming, crying, or wailing in pain in. You can hear it in other places in the building, but this is where it sounds like it’s coming from. I’ve been here when it happens. Not to prejudice anyone’s opinions here, but I really suspect that it has something to do with the French settlers or the Loyalists that were killed here. I’ve heard it myself, and it’s absolutely the most horrifying sound I’ve ever heard. We’ll definitely want recording equipment in here.”

Lisa spoke to the group. Her voice was barely a whisper, but the room’s acoustics allowed for everyone to clearly hear the beautiful young woman’s voice. “I saw a priest in this room once. He was clean shaven, wearing a long black cassock with a white collar and a white wig. I asked him who he was, and he vanished.”

Leading us behind the sanctuary of the church and into the sacristy behind it, Erin remarked “This is probably where you’re most likely to hear footsteps going up or down the stairs leading to the basement.” Leading us past empty choir robes that stood guard like orderly rows of phantom soldiers, Erin led us into a small room and opened a narrow doorway. The worn, ancient door creaked open on rusted iron hinges. Cold, musty air flooded out to greet our nostrils. Erin flipped on a switch, and a dim yellow light flickered and illuminated a narrow wooden stairway down into blackness.

“Here’s the deal, there aren’t many modern reports of activity in the basement, but I think that’s because we hardly ever use the basement for anything, and like mom said, nobody is willing to spend any time down there. It’s the creepiest place I’ve ever been. I remember when we were kids, both Rachel and Cherry, that’s what we called the White Dress Ladies, seemed terrified of the place and told me that there was something down there that was the reason that they couldn’t leave the church. The closer you get to the basement, the more active things seem to get. I’ve lived my whole life here and I’ve only been down there two or three times before.” Erin offered. “It’s pretty small and hardly ever even used for storage, but I think that we should put a team down there, and maybe try for some EVPs.”

Sarah spoke as we began to file down the creaking stairs of crumbling rough-sawn wood. “The basement is where the bones were buried, right? I think it’s safe to say that the White Dress Ladies were the two female French settlers that were killed here during the French and Indian War, which would mean that their bones would have been kept with everyone else’s and buried in the basement. Do you think that might be why they can’t leave the church?”

Erin thought for a long moment before she spoke. “They never said exactly what was keeping them here, but I don’t think that they would have been so afraid of their own bones. And based on what Mom saw with all the other figures in colonial costume, something is keeping a bunch of spirits around here. I don’t know what it is.”

“Maybe they just need a good Christian burial?” Heather offered.

“I don’t know.” Erin said. “There are records showing that there were services performed for the dead when they were moved into the basement, and I’m pretty sure that they would have taken that seriously. And as far as consecrated ground is concerned, how much more consecrated can you get than to be actually buried beneath a church? Besides, the bones aren’t down there anymore.”

Lisa began to say something in reply, but then seemed to think better of it and remained quiet.

The stairs were narrow and we had to follow Erin one at a time down them. The old wood creaked and strained as though it might collapse under our weight at any moment. The walls and floor of the basement were made of damp, ancient stone that sparkled with droplets of stagnant moisture and white nitre. The basement was cold and gloomy, with an unwholesome musty smell and an oppressive, claustrophobic feel to it. Physically, the basement bore little resemblance to anywhere that I could recall from the concentration camp at Dachau that I had visited when I was stationed in Germany. Even so, the oppressive feeling I had felt as I had walked through areas of the old concentration camp that still reeked of burnt flesh over a half-century later was the closest thing I had ever known to the feeling that dwelt in the eternal night of that miserable chamber. The damp chill made me glad that I had worn my vest and jacket. Seeing Heather shiver, I removed my jacket and handed it to her. She silently nodded her thanks to me as she took it and wrapped it around herself like a cape. A feeling of depression and the threat of lurking danger, as though the whole basement could collapse in upon us at any moment and swallow us whole for all eternity, seemed to hang in the air. Nobody was immune to it.

The people I fought beside in the military had thought that I was fearless. They didn’t know that I acted the way I did only because I had to be brave for them. I am not a brave man, except when I have to be for those around me. If I had been alone, I never would have done many of the acts that I became known for. Once again, the need to protect those around me filled my heart with an icy, ruthless courage and I made my way to the front of the line. Even Diana was glancing about nervously, and I knew that I would fight the Devil himself if I had to to protect my loved ones. Almost unconsciously, I bushed my wrist along the clip that held my knife accessible in my pocket.

A warm hand wrapped itself around mine, and I looked over to see Heather’s frightened face. I found her presence comforting.

I thought briefly about the king that I had seen in my dreams and his promise to me of some sort of special treasure. I thought of the centuries that good, holy men and spent trying unsuccessfully to destroy it, and failing that, had hidden in hopes that it would stay lost for all of eternity. I thought of what Erin had said about some nameless thing that had trapped human souls here in this wretched tomb for centuries. I had a really bad feeling about this entire situation. If the priests wanted this Acrato- whatever-the-Hell-his-name-was to have his treasure lost for eternity, then that should be good enough for me. His friendliness couldn’t change the fact that something more genuinely malevolent than anything I had ever experienced before was down here.

Our footsteps echoed in the dimly lit room. Aside from that, it was quite literally as quiet as a grave.

“The bones of the French settlers and British loyalists were placed in a small room here. There’s only one room off of this one, and the doorway is right through here,” Erin gestured down a narrow walkway that was almost invisible in the dim yellow light. “There aren’t any records of the bones being moved,” she said as she opened a decaying wooden door into the room, “but the bones aren’t here anymore.”

Pulling the small pocket flashlight that I always carry with me out of my pocket, I shone the beam into the pitch-black darkness behind the door. I could imagine no more wretched of a final resting place than the dark, dank, cobweb-filled room that I saw before me.

“The bones are still here,” said Lisa in a quiet voice that echoed eerily off of the stone walls..

Walking down to the end of the hallway, Lisa stopped at a particularly large, flat stone in the floor. I felt vaguely sick at my stomach. “Back when I was a teenager, I was dating this kind of sleazy older guy that wanted to look for the treasure, and he wanted to look here in the basement. I told him that the basement wasn’t built back when the treasure was hidden, but he said that maybe the priests had re-hidden it. I told him that was stupid, but he said that he wanted to come look around in the basement anyway. We checked a few loose rocks in the wall, and then he noticed that this rock was a lot larger and flatter than the ones around it. He had a claw hammer and a screwdriver with him, and I told him to leave the rock alone, but he said that he thought that it was loose. It wasn’t. The dumbass started using the screwdriver like a chisel and chipping away at the mortar around the rock, and I wanted to yell at him because I thought Dad would kill me for bringing the idiot here and letting him deface the church, but I also didn’t want to get caught so I decided not to yell. In a few minutes, he had the rock pried up, and I saw that underneath it there was a square opening that led downwards. It smelled terrible. He shined a light down there, and came back screaming that it was full of human bones. I tried to get him calmed down so he could put the rock back where it belonged. Just about that time there was a terrible burning sulfur smell, and a black shape with red eyes came up out of the hole towards us. My boyfriend swore later that it told him it would eat his soul, but all I heard was a growling sound. My boyfriend actually had marks through the back of his shirt like something with three claws had taken a swing at him as he was running away. Anyway, we both ran like hell but he beat me out of the basement by a long shot. I broke up with him that night, and it took me three days to get the courage to come back down here to put the rock back the way it was so Dad wouldn’t find out. But when I came back, the rock was right where it had been before we moved it. I don’t know who replaced it, and I only stayed there for a second.”

The oppressive feeling that we all felt here in the basement, the brimstone smell Lisa was describing, the scratches on Lisa’s ex-boyfriend, and her description of the entity that had manifested in this basement all sounded to me like hallmarks of a demonic haunting. The bad feeling I had about this investigation was rapidly getting a lot worse. Again I regretted bringing my inexperienced family members along with me. We were probably in way over our heads. Diane and I exchanged a worried glance.

“I never suspected anything, and I don’t think Dad did, either. You’re right, he would have been plenty pissed at both of you!” Erin said to her sister.

“How big was the room?” Sarah asked.

“I’m not sure, but I think it’s probably larger than you would guess from just looking at that rock,” said Lisa

“Large enough for someone to sit in it and monitor it for the night?” Sarah asked. “If we could set up a video camera and then do some shit to piss off Grendel or Beelzebub or whatever-the…”

“No.” Erin cut Sarah off. Erin usually had very nice manners, but she clearly was not a fan of the way that Sarah was talking.

“And why not?” Sarah asked. “The mortar around the stone is already broken, so we can get the stone out without doing more damage to the church. John is strong enough to move it. If we want to get paranormal evidence for your Dad, and there’s some sort of evil spirit guarding that place, then we should go there and see if we can piss it off and get it to do something. If we’re committed to doing a good job here, then let’s do a good job. I’ll sit in there by myself if I have to.”

“You really want to do this, don’t you?” Lisa asked with nervous resignation.

“I feel like we have to,” Heather said quietly.

I was shocked to hear Heather take that position. I didn’t like the idea of Sarah sitting in the tomb during the investigation, but for now it wouldn’t hurt to at least take a look inside of it and see what we would be dealing with from a logistics standpoint if we did decide to put someone in there. Despite the unpleasant feeling I had in my gut, I knew that the odds of a demon manifesting in the room with us at the moment were relatively low. “Erin? Lisa? Do you think it’s OK if I move the rock?”

“Be my guest,” Erin said in a nervous attempt at being nonchalant.

The rock moved more easily with my bare hands than I would have expected, and soon I was looking at two huge square beams of ancient, rotting, hand-hewn wood. Between them was an opening about two foot square. A nauseating stench wafted from the icy depths of the hidden chamber. It did not smell of fresh decay, but of death and misery that had resided in this place for far, far too long. Ancient wickedness and suffering had eternally infused the very stones with a foul and repellant odor that made my stomach churn and my hair rise on the back of my neck. It was an indescribably repulsive scent that I had never experienced before and hoped to never experience again, but it filled my mind with morbid thoughts of eldritch horrors that could survive unchanged for aeons. Shining my pocket flashlight down, I saw the bones. Neatly piled against a wall, the yellowing skeletons had been combined into orderly heaps, with the skulls resting atop a pile of long arm and leg bones, and other piles containing the ribs, pelvises, vertebrae, and other small irregular bits of bony matter. I suddenly realized that the room that I had considered the most wretched final resting place imaginable just seconds ago was nowhere near as miserable as the cramped grave I was now beholding.

I climbed down into the dark chamber and looked around, choking on the corrupted air as my foot splashed into a shallow puddle of foul, stagnant water. The room was a small cube-shaped chamber, maybe five feet on each side, and not quite enough room to stand without bumping your head on the filthy, cobweb-covered ceiling. The slimy stone walls were wet with water seepage and noisome growths of unwholesome mold, and they glittered with white nitre and water droplets. Sarah began climbing down after me, and I looked around for a place for me to move out of her way without disturbing the dead.

“Uh, Sarah?” I tried to warn her as she climbed down. I didn’t know if there was going to be enough room for the two of us without knocking over a pile of bones.

There is a certain scream that a human being can only make when they are truly in the utmost extremity of mortal terror. It is a grisly, blood-curdling sound that instinctively communicates an all-consuming horror to anyone that hears it. That particular type of scream is the instinctive final act of a doomed human being, a ghastly animalistic shriek that our earliest ancestors instinctively gave unspeakable utterance to in their last desperate moments of life in hope that some of the tribe might live to flee from the greatest of horrors. And when that sound comes from someone you love, it is truly the most shocking and abhorrent sound in the world. That sound, ripped from half a dozen throats, is what suddenly burst upon my ears from above at that moment. My muscles tightened like drawn bowstrings as I instantly knew that the ladies above me were in fear for their lives.

The air was instantly thick with the toxic, acidic, choking stench of burning brimstone. Sarah was entirely blocking the only opening out of the small tomb I was in. She looked above herself, and with wide and horrified eyes she screamed in abject terror as she leaped down into the chamber. She knocked me over, and together we fell into a pile of the mouldering skeletal remains that scattered and crumbled beneath our weight. It sounded like utter pandemonium up there, but I could see nothing. The dim yellow electric light had gone out entirely, and my flashlight had fallen from my hand and now illuminated nothing but crumbling bones and part of a wall. In my efforts to lead the way and place myself in the most frightening and uncomfortable position, I had paradoxically placed myself in the place furthest from danger. Uttering the foulest curses imaginable, I scrambled to my feet as I fumbled for my flashlight. Leaping past Sarah, I lunged into the basement with a savage war cry. I was ready to defend my friends against whatever threat they were facing to my last drop of blood.

In the beam of my Diana’s flashlight, I beheld her foe and my heart seemed to freeze in my chest. It was a blasphemous embodiment of horror and living darkness such as I had never imagined could be allowed to exist on this planet. The hulking, grotesquely formed beast was roughly humanoid in shape with large antlers sprouting from a gigantic head that looked like a malformed skull around which a mask of dark, mummified flesh had been tightly stretched. Its emaciated and desiccated flesh was as dark as living shadow stretched taut upon its gaunt, skeletal frame. The aberration’s mouth was colossal and hideously lipless as it gaped wide at us, revealing decaying rows of jagged, carnivorous teeth and an oversized tongue that had been gnawed and shredded into rag-like strips of fibrous, putrefying flesh. Long, elk-like antlers protruded from the sides of the beast’s head, and bloody strips of rotting flesh hung from them in dripping tendrils. But the most horrifying aspects of the beast were its eyes. Elongated into curved and misshapen slits, the eyes wordlessly spoke of unimaginable hatred, implacable cruelty, and timeless evil. And they also spoke of something else: a gluttonous, covetous need for something that I dared not even guess at. Those eyes would have been like those of no living creature I had ever seen even if they had not been glowing malevolently in the dark room like coals ripped from the very pits of Hell.

Diana had placed herself between her friends and the monster. She was crouched into a low fighting stance, her eyes narrowed ferociously and her mouth curled into a vicious wolf-like snarl. She held her flashlight clutched in one hand, and a small folding knife held blade-downward in the other. I could hear Erin praying rapidly. “I’ll hold it off,” I heard Diana growl to her friends. “The rest of you get the fuck out of here!”

The girls behind Diana ignored her order as they stood frozen in mindless terror.

“Goddamnit, I said run!” Diana bellowed as she slowly retreated, keeping herself between the beast and her friends.

Slowly, the trunks of the aberration’s massive legs moved as it advanced towards Diana. It growled, a disgusting and horrifying sound that seemed to shake the very walls. My beautiful best friend did not even flinch as she stood fearlessly between the beast and her companions, her knuckles white as they clutched her tiny pocketknife. As the monster advanced towards Diana, I knew that there was no chance of her surviving such a fight against this abomination.

My blood felt like it was boiling in my veins. Too many people I have cared about have been killed before my eyes already, and either I would send this blasphemous aberration back to the flaming pits that spawned it or I would die in the attempt. “Diana, you and these girls need to get the fuck out of here! Now!” I roared savagely as I leapt between her and the beast. I have seldom used that voice to give orders before, but I have never had them disobeyed when I did. I didn’t take my eye off of my enemy to see whether or not the ladies were doing as I had asked.

In a single blur of motion born from decades of intense martial arts practice, I whipped the large tactical lock-blade knife from my pocket and flicked it open even as I skipped towards the creature. With an unearthly, hair-raising war-cry, I launched a powerful side-kick towards where I judged that its solar plexus would be, and in the same movement I lashed out with my knife in a vicious, snakelike feint-and-stab combination that I intended to brutally tear through the creature’s left lung and aorta. I am an accomplished martial artist, and I know from experience that the kick would have been more than sufficient to splinter concrete, and the razored edge of my knife is even deadlier.

Even as I attacked the horror, I realized the futility of my actions. My foot met with no resistance at all as it tore impotently through the creature, feeling nothing but an impossible, frostbite-inducing cold that froze my leg with incapacitating agony as my foot plunged through nothingness. My razor-sharp blade, however, felt as though it were slicing through an ooze of slimy and gelatinous flesh embedded with brittle, crumbling rib bones, and I saw purulent, coagulated yellow ochre bubble and gush from the horrific wound that I inflicted in the beast’s chest.

The lack of resistance to my ineffectual kick already had me terribly off balance when a clawed fist slammed into my gut with the force of a wrecking ball. Despite the crushing pain of the powerful blow, the greatest source of agony for me was the unbearable cold that seemed to suck every ounce of warmth from my body through the place where the monster’s fist struck me. I never saw the blow coming in the darkness, and I could not even partially block or deflect it. My blood roared in my ears as I was torn from my feet like a paper toy and slammed hard into a cold stone wall with such force that the air was crushed from my lungs. My knife kicked up a shower of orange and yellow sparks as the blade struck forcefully against the wall before my only weapon fell uselessly from my hand and was lost in the darkness. I tried desperately to cling to consciousness as I slumped like a rag doll to the cold, damp stones of the floor.

I was back in the familiar clearing in the woods, but now it was occupied only by myself and the now-familiar figure in his purple robe, relaxing in his wooden throne and looking at me with amusement. “I’m sure you know that you’re unconscious. Don’t worry about your friends, they’re quite safe.”

“How the FUCK are they safe in a room with THAT damned thing?” I roared angrily.

He took a sip of dark wine from a large goblet of heavy, ornately carved silver and smiled at me with maddening patience and a confident expression that, to put it very mildly, completely failed to reflect the level of gravity that I felt was warranted. I noticed, however, that his eyes did not mirror his smile. For God’s sake, my friends were trapped in a basement with a demon, and he looked like he thought this was a goddamned social event! “First of all, I would like to caution you against taking that sort of tone with any god, mortal. I like you, and I’m famously good-natured, but some of my fellows aren’t so tolerant of lapses in good judgment. Oh, it’s OK. I’m not angry. But watch yourself. Now, as far as your friends are concerned, don’t worry; they’re completely safe. That nifty little technique you used with your knife had the monster dissipating into nothingness even before you were entirely unconscious! I’m not going to start killing evil spirits on my own and risk provoking a wider conflict, but there’s no reason that I can’t put a special blessing on a friend’s knife.” He winked at me and chuckled as though he thought that the two of us had just conspired to play a hilarious practical joke on someone that neither of us liked. “By the way, you’re the first mortal I’ve seen using an enchanted blade to kill a beast like that in quite some time! Bravo!”

I started to say something, but Acratophorus excitedly cut me off. “The little adventure you just had caused you and your pretty little cousin to disturb the bones down in the pit, which you otherwise wouldn’t have touched out of respect for the dead. Now you’ll find my treasure there when you look for it! And since everyone in your expedition has seen what I’m certain that they will regard as very convincing evidence of what you call ‘paranormal activity’ occurring within the church, I’m certain that any continuation of tonight’s investigation will be entirely unnecessary. They’ll want to take you back to the house and make certain that you’re all right.”

Acratophorus spoke. “What you destroyed wasn’t a demon. Creatures like what you killed are seldom seen these days, but some people used to refer to them, among other things, as Chenoos, Wendigos, or Giwakwas. Most cultures that have a name for monsters like that call them things that can roughly be translated as ‘ice cannibals’ or something to that effect. They can take a variety of appearances, but none of them are easily destroyed. Unless, of course, you’re using a weapon that has been specially enchanted by a god!” He winked.

The god continued. “This particular beast was once a noble, but proud, shaman from a small tribe of American Indians that was massacred by another tribe roughly 5,000 years ago. You’ve never heard of either tribe. The shaman rashly chose to engage in a grisly, unholy ritual in which he sold himself to a demon in exchange for the power to exact revenge for his dead loved ones, and he’s been trapped in the form in which you saw him ever since. I can assure you that he regretted his decision even before his demonic master forced him to massacre and devour the last of those that had wronged his people. Long after his enemies were dead, he was forced to exist as a hideous beast that was neither alive nor dead, neither spiritual nor physical. And at night, he was forced to rise and prey upon the living. It was a horrifying existence for both him and for those unfortunate enough to encounter him.”

I was still trembling at the memory of the ancient horror I had seen, and shuddered at the thought that what I had killed had once been a man. Acratophorus saw my expression and wordlessly offered me his wine goblet, but I felt a bit sick at my stomach from the adrenaline. I held up a hand and shook my head in a polite but silent refusal before the god resumed speaking.

“Long ago, the Mohican Indians that lived in this area realized the danger that the monster posed to their community, and their holiest priests spent months fasting and engaging in in a sacred ritual to consecrate the ground above where the creature hid during the daylight in order to prevent the beast from rising at night to devour the living. After the ritual was complete, the beast did not rise to trouble them again but it was still there, imprisoned just beneath the sacred ground. When the French moved into the area, they built the church on this site when the local Mohican and Massachusett Indians insisted that it was important that they keep the land sacred. This effectively kept the beast trapped beneath the church in the same location where he had been entombed for millennia. Years later, other Christian priests took advantage of the monster’s presence when choosing a location to hide my treasure from the world.”

“Your heroics did not simply protect yourself and your friends while doing me an immense favor. A favor for which I promise to richly reward you, I might add. You have freed the old shaman from thousands of years of a wretched and horrifying existence. And in doing that, you also freed other spirits that the unholy presence of the beast had kept trapped in this world with him, unable to enter the afterlife prepared for them.”

I spoke with my anger feeling somewhat lessened now that I knew that my loved ones were safe and the terror and excitement of the moment was beginning to pass. “Well, sir, it would have been nice to know about that thing in advance.”

Acratophorus sighed sadly and regarded me with a penitent expression on his face. When he spoke, he sounded as though he was attempting to gently explain a difficult mathematical concept to someone that was too young to understand it. “Warning you about what you were going to face ahead of time would have been quite impossible, my young friend. For one thing, you and your cousin wouldn’t have fallen on the bones and uncovered my treasure if you had known what was coming. Plus, you have to consider the other implications of my deliberate plotting with you to kill a monster that is bound to a demon. As it is, both of us have plausible explanations for our actions. I blessed a friend’s knife because I like you and I knew that you would enjoy owning a magical blade, and you simply acted out of instinct to protect your loved ones. The demon won’t be happy that you freed his slave and those who, in turn, his slave had unwittingly kept imprisoned here with his unholy influence. But as it is, the demon and his fellows won’t regard our elimination of his servant as justification for a wider and more destructive conflict, and they are very unlikely to risk actively seeking revenge against either of us. If I had warned you about the monster and told you what to do to slay him, then our actions would have been regarded as much more deliberate and premeditated on our part. Oh, yes, they have ways of knowing about such things, mortal. They can read your thoughts just as easily as I can, and that might have led to some very unfortunate consequences for you, which in turn would be unfortunate for me. Look, my young friend, I’m very sorry to have put you and your friends through such a traumatic event, even though I know that both you and Diana have dealt with far worse in your past. After all, nobody actually died this time. Even your enemy was simply liberated from being trapped inside of a monstrosity and given a chance for a normal afterlife if he wants it. If you will provide me with an offering, I will have the energy to heal you of the injuries you sustained in the reality you live in. It’s really the least I can do for you. Please, would you allow me to do that?”

Wandering in from the wood line, I saw two attractive young ladies wearing very conservatively cut, very old-fashioned dresses of white linen. They reminded me of some engravings that I had seen at Jamestown. Both of the ladies were very petite, with neither of them being much over five feet tall. Their faces were similar enough that they were almost certainly mother and daughter. One of them was a lithe, almost gangly teenager and the other looked barely old enough to be her mother. They blushed and flashed sweet, embarrassed smiles as they curtsied politely.

Acratophorus bowed towards the two young ladies that had joined us. “These ladies are two of the French settlers that were killed a few years ago at the site of the church. In your world, they’re what you would call ghosts. The monster’s presence cursed the place where their bones were buried, and they were unable to enter the afterlife while it was here. As a result, they have been haunting the church for quite a long time by human standards. Yes, they’re the two ‘White Dress Ladies’ that your friends knew when they were children. But here, in this reality, they can take physical forms identical to their old bodies. As I’ve told you before, I made this little reality we’re in just for you. You’re effectively the reigning deity here. If you want these young ladies to be able to speak fluently in modern English, or yourself to understand their French, just will it and it will happen. Just don’t expect your new language skills to work back in the world you’re used to. You’ll always be able to access this place in your dreams if you want, and as I saw you accomplish with that pretty little stream and the cabin, you can build onto it all that you like.”

“For now, as I said, I need an offering. As you know, nothing happens without some sort of energy being expended. Some gods prefer energy from… well, let’s just say ‘other sources’, but I prefer sexual energy. When human beings mate, a tremendous amount of spiritual energy is generated. Some of that energy can go into creating the soul of any offspring that are produced, although the conversion of spiritual energy into a mortal soul isn’t a very efficient process. Normally, the energy that a couple produces during lovemaking is wastefully dissipated into the environment. It’s like putting a candle outside on a cold night: the heat and light normally dissipate into their surroundings until the energy becomes chaotic nothingness. But as a god, I can collect, harness, and use all forms of spiritual energy. That’s what you will soon be able to help me do. I shall become more powerful than I have in millennia, and you as my high-priest shall have everything you have ever desired. And I mean everything. You and your loved ones have already given me more energy than I have had in centuries. I just need a little bit more to once again become powerful enough to heal you in your own world. And I can assure you that you will find fulfilling your destiny to be nothing if not pleasurable.”

I gestured towards the youngest of the two. “Are you certain that this is… all right? Did they agree to this? What’s going on here?”

Acratophorus looked kindly at me and the ladies. “Can you imagine how lonely it would be to experience two hundred years of being constantly awake and spending most of your time trapped in pitch-blackness, unable to feel or see anything? Imagine what it would be like to experience life as an insubstantial shadow. These two ladies have been living that existence since before your country was even a nation. It has been centuries since either of them has felt a warm embrace. They are here because they want to be, young friend. I did not make them come here any more than you did. It is noble that you are concerned for their well-being and their wishes, but their wishes are to be with you. They saw you rescue them. They have, as spirits, seen your soul. And they want to bond with you in the most natural way they can.”

I thought about what he had said, and looked over at the two pretty young ladies. For the first time in centuries, they were feeling the sunlight on their faces. And the first thing they wanted to do was make love to me. I felt humbled and unworthy of such an honor, but determined to make certain that they would not regret their decision. I would make the experience whatever they wished for it to be.

The ancient god smiled at me, as though approving of my thoughts. “Well, I suppose that I should leave you and these ladies in peace. Take all the time you want; I’ve made sure that only a few seconds will pass in the waking world. I don’t usually like to mess with time, but I’m making an exception in this case. But before I go..” he gestured to an empty spot on the grass and the image of an ornate canopy bed shimmered in the air like sparkling molten gold before solidifying into a large, comfortable-looking piece of furniture covered with soft blankets and thick pillows. Giving me a smile and a wink, he faded away into nothingness, leaving me alone with two phantom women that looked every bit as real as anyone I had ever met before.

I looked over at the two ladies and nervously flashed them a friendly smile. They looked beautiful and pure in their archaic clothing, and I wished that there would be more time just to chat and get to know them. It would be fascinating for me to hear the life story of someone that had lived so long ago and simply discuss daily life with them. I wondered what I should say or do. Acratophorus hadn’t even told me their names. Hadn’t Erin called them Rachel and Cherry?

Taking Acratophorus’ advice, I focused on speaking in 18th century French and hoped that I wouldn’t make a fool of myself. I greeted them as politely as I could, and told them my name as part of an effort to initiate some sort of normal conversation. I couldn’t tell whether they understood me or if I had just made up some words that I thought sounded French. Personally, I thought that I sounded like an amorous cartoon skunk. They didn’t immediately respond. Instead, the two women wordlessly approached me with gleeful mischief in their eyes. I was reminded of the attitude of cats that are determined to play with something.

The eldest of the women gently pushed me back onto the bed. I willed myself to understand her as she spoke, and was a bit surprised when I understood her archaic French as though I had been speaking it my whole life. “It is a pleasure to meet you, John. I am Rachelle, and this is my daughter, Cherise.” She said this with a benign smirk, as though she found the formality of introductions humorous under the circumstances. She climbed atop me, and I found that she was surprisingly light. I gathered that her voluminous clothing hid a very petite, willowy frame. Her slender face was tanned from life in what had been a wild frontier in her day. She looked at me with happy, sparkling, emerald-green eyes as she wrapped slender arms around me and planted a chaste kiss on my cheek. Her scent was pleasant, and reminded me vaguely of honeysuckle, oak leaves, campfires, and the comfortable, sleepy scent of a woman’s nightclothes. I wrapped my arms around her in turn as she kissed me on the mouth with increasing passion. Our tongues writhed together, and even through her petticoats and other layers of clothing I could tell that she was rubbing herself against my hardness. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the comfort of a man. I’ve never been with anyone but my husband before, but I am a widow now. I have been a widow for a very, very long time.” She kissed me on the lips gently. I tried not to think of the mouldering bones that had crumbled when I fell upon them beneath the old church. “We have waited in silent darkness for over two centuries for you, my daughter and I. And now we are yours to have, and we will have you as well. Love me, please,” she whispered sweetly.

I kissed Rachelle on the lips, as her gangly teenaged daughter climbed onto the bed beside us. Cherise’s demeanor reflected an nervous desire to be close to her mother and I, but she moved with a hesitancy that seemed to betray a fear of doing something wrong or inappropriate. The teenager’s conflicting feelings of desire and fear, combined with what had probably been a strict upbringing regarding sexual matters, warred in the strikingly beautiful green eyes that she had inherited from her mother. In the end, desire won out. Rachelle smiled sweetly as her daughter moved in to lay close against us. Cherise’s eyes sparkled from her adorable freckled face as she leaned in and kissed me sweetly. “I have never kissed a man before,” she whispered hoarsely. “Nor have I ever been kissed by one.”

I reached over, and she squealed with laughter as I pulled her towards her mother and I. “We might have to change that!” I whispered as I took her head gently in my hand and guided her angelic face towards my own. This time, our lips gently pressed together and moved with a slow tenderness befitting her inexperience. I felt her warm breath on my face, and she sighed sweetly and beautifully into my mouth.

“My first kiss…” Cherise murmured dreamily. “And soon… my virginity.”

“Not yet, my sweetness.” Rachelle whispered quietly. “For now, just watch. You shall have plenty of time to not be a virgin after today.”

I rolled over on top of Rachelle, and the older woman began hiking up her dress and petticoats. She was wearing thick, dark-brown, knee-high stockings beneath her dress. Her fine leg hairs reminded me that women living on the frontier wouldn’t have shaved their legs, but on Rachelle, they were attractive. We kissed again, this time with increased passion, her hands pulling me towards her face. She broke the kiss and looked over at her daughter. “Sweetheart, this man is going to make love to me like your father used to. I want you to watch, because in a moment, you shall loose your virginity and I want you to know something of what to expect. You’re going to become a woman today Cherise!” Rachelle looked at me as she trembled in anticipation. “Please don’t think badly of me, sir. I am not a woman of loose morals, but I have not felt the touch of a man in two centuries. My daughter, Cherise, she is a virtuous girl and has never felt the touch of a man at all, and she has dreamed of this day for over two hundred years! Please be kind and gentle with her!” She spoke urgently as her clothing slid upwards, revealing her vulva. I shouldn’t have been surprised that women on the frontier would have been unlikely to wear panties. Rachelle’s pubic region was adorned with sparse, fine wisps of curly brown hair that did nothing to conceal the womanly slit from which the lithe teenager beside us had been born many, many years ago.

Rachelle and I kissed with increased fervor as I reached down and ran my hand through the soft hair that covered her nether region, and she closed her eyes and arched her back with an audible inhalation as my finger brushed her moist slit. My heart pounded in my chest, and my head swam in the giddiness of sexual excitement.

“I’m ready, lover. Please, take me!” Rachelle pleaded softly with closed eyes.

I slid from atop Rachelle and stood on the grass of the clearing, dropping my vest and pulling my shirt over my head. Mother and daughter alike watched with wide-eyed fascination as I disrobed. Perhaps removing all of one’s clothes, even for sex, wasn’t something that they were used to. Certainly that wouldn’t have been something that they would have seen in the dark church basement with any regularity! Perhaps it had simply been a very long time since Rachelle had seen a naked man. As I slid my pants down they both had their eyes fixed on my swollen member. Cherise had never before seen anything of a naked man, and she looked at my body with nervous excitement.

Soon I was back on the bed with Rachelle, my hands running over her clothed stomach and the rumpled cloth that she had pulled up to expose her most private parts to my sight and my touch. We kissed as my hand worked its way down to the soft hairs of her vulva and the swollen lips of her labia. She instinctively spread her legs wider and inhaled sharply, almost as though in physical pain, but the look on her face spoke of anything but discomfort. I touched her, feeling her soft vaginal lips part to accept my fingers. Soon my fingers were inside of her, feeling the liquid heat of her most intimate parts. Her fluids weren’t as thick as those of most other women I had been with, feeling more watery. I wished that I could take more of her clothing off, but her garments appeared to be elaborately designed for the sole purpose of being difficult to remove, and my lust-clouded brain refused to devote the energy to this task. As if sensing my thoughts, Rachelle reached up and moved the top of her dress down to expose her large, succulent breasts with round, pink, silver-dollar sized areolas and the firm nipples that had provided nourishment for her daughter so many years ago.

“Please, sir! Now! I need it now!” Rachelle demanded, pulling me back on top of her and pulling me forward. I felt the tip of my penis brush the soft hairs of her pussy, and I felt the hot moisture that greeted me at her opening. I pushed forward at her urging, but she was incredibly tight for a woman who had undergone childbirth. Rachelle pulled me towards her with desperation, as though unable to live for another second without my cock buried deep inside of her yearning body. I was reminded of the way that a cat, upon seeing food, often acts as though she will starve if forced to wait for even a second before feasting.

I pulled my hips back and spread Rachelle’s vaginal lips, placing my tip in the shiny pink opening that I revealed between her spread labia. She pulled me towards her again while thrusting herself rhythmically against my cock. The first half of my penis entered her in a single sudden event that seemed to happen with no warning and catch us both by surprise. I gently moved my penis back and forth until her lubrication was well enough distributed to allow me to make love to her in earnest. Soon we were rutting together in full force, the merging of our bodies muffled by the rustling of her bunched garments. Pretty young Cherise gawked at us with wide, excited eyes.

I moved my hips to allow me to reach down and gently massage Rachelle’s erect clitoris as my cock pistoned in and out of her sweltering depths. She uttered inarticulate gasps as her body responded to my attention, and her vagina became even wetter. Looking over, I noticed that Cherise had climbed from the bed and was making a small mound of her clothing as she completely disrobed, her eyes glued upon her mother and I. It seemed to take her ages to remove her clothing, revealing pure white skin that contrasted endearingly with the tanned and freckled skin of her face and hands.

Lying nude beside her mother, Cherise propped herself up on her slender arms and watched with fascination as my cock disappeared between her mother’s legs, only to re-emerge slick and glistening with a fine layer of vaginal juices. Her beautiful green eyes were riveted upon the scene before her, her face was flushed and her small, perky, breasts heaved with each heavy breath. Between her legs, her wispy blonde pubic hair glinted beautifully in the sunlight, but it did nothing to hide the beautiful virginal crease that marked her womanhood. Her pubic hair was so sparse, so fine, and so light-colored that in other light I might have hardly even seen it.

The large, yielding cushions of Rachelle’s breasts were jiggling and rocking up and down in a fantastic manner as our bodies thrust together. She was bucking madly at me, her body trembling and convulsing as her birth canal contracted in powerful spasms around my cock. She cried out inarticulately as her body tightened upon my manhood, demanding the release of my life-giving fluids into her greedy womb. “Aaah!” she cried, “Give yourself to me as I give myself to you! Pour your seed deep into my belly, and bind us together for all time!”

I had never heard a woman say something like that during sex, but it’s hard to know what an 18th century French settler might view as normal in the bedroom. I shuddered as I thought that perhaps she was thinking of her long-dead husband, but the thought was not enough to delay my impending orgasm for more than an instant. My body trembled as I felt myself join her in climax, my fluids rushing up and spurting deep into the depths of Rachelle’s slender, beautiful body.

Cherise was silent with awe as she watched me engage in the sacred act of procreation with her mother from no more than a foot away. Still buried to the hilt inside of her mother’s body, my penis bucked and issued forth a torrent of sperm-rich fluids deep into Rachelle’s hot womb. What would happen if I somehow impregnated these woman who had been dead for over two centuries? Was such a thing even possible?

Cherise smiled serenely at her mother as I lay on top of Rachelle, my manhood still buried inside of her warm, slick vagina. “So this is how you and Father made me so long ago. That was… beautiful.” she said in a whisper. Rachelle’s brow was red with exertion and moist with fine sweat, and our chests rose together with our gasping breaths. Still, my member was rampant inside of her, ready for more of the act that it had been made to perform.

Rolling onto her back, Cherise spread her legs, doing her best to imitate her mother’s body position. “Sir, I have always dreamed of being completely nude and uncovered on my wedding night, hiding nothing from the man who loved me and claimed me as his own. I wanted to feel as though every part of me was loved, and that I was accepted in my entirety with nothing to hide. My wedding night will never come now. Not with any man but you. I need you to be love and sweetness for me now, and I shall give you my cherished maidenhood along with my undying love. No woman has ever preserved her freshness for longer than I, I am sure of it! Let my mother’s body serve to cool your ardor, so that you can be gentle with my deflowering.”

Rachelle turned and spoke to her daughter while my rampant cock was still fully sheathed in the slick tunnel that had once given birth to the beautiful young girl. “He will be gentle with you, my sweetness. Don’t be surprised if it hurts a bit, though. I have only been with your father, but I suspect that this gentleman has a larger member than most men.” And then looking to me, “The time has come for you to make my daughter a woman.”

There was a deliciously wet sound as I pulled my turgid cock from Rachelle’s sopping tunnel. Taking a moment to relax, I lay on my back between the two women. Rachelle’s fluids, thoroughly mixed with my own, dripped in a clear stream from my cock down to form a tiny pool on my stomach, and Cherise reached over with a small, slender finger, and touched the fluids. She rubbed her fingers together, feeling the slickness of the sexual liquids, and then she held the sticky substance on her finger up to inspect it more closely. Cherise pinched her finger and her thumb together before spreading them apart, watching the fluids stretch into a transparent film that soon burst like a bubble, leaving a thin liquid filament that still connected her finger and thumb. She smiled, clearly amused at the substance that her mother and I had magically produced. With a mischievous grin, she stuck her finger in her mouth to taste it.

“Cherise!” Rachelle exclaimed in shock.

But Cherise paid no attention to her mother. Smiling at me in a manner that seemed at once innocent and seductive, the girl that was moments away from becoming a woman beckoned to me with a slender finger. “Pleasure me, lover!” She lay there, her body open to me, willing to let me do whatever I wished with her. My heart pounded in my chest with lust and anticipation.

I ran my hands over the teenager’s slender, milky-white body, looking into her sparkling eyes and running my fingers through the soft, corn-silk blonde hair that crowned her pretty face. We kissed sweetly, her moist lips meeting my own. Her breath had a sweet scent, like herbs and fresh loaves of bread. I ran my tongue over her small, perfect teeth, and was aware of her mother only inches away from us, her womb still filled with my hot semen, watching as her daughter surrendered two hundred years of closely guarded virtue to me. I ran my hands down her shoulders, feeling her slender arms as we kissed, and I felt her small, firm breasts and the rigid nubs of her nipples press into my hands. Reaching lower, I felt her tight, flat stomach, her bony hips, and the gentle curves of her delicate bottom. I wondered how she might respond to cunnilingus. If she were as tight as her mother, and a virgin to boot, we would surely need as much lubrication as we could get.

I kissed her face, then moved my attention down to the pure white skin of her neck. She gasped as my kisses slowly moved lower. I sucked one of her firm nipples into my mouth, and she shuddered with pleasure. Her breathing became more rapid as I caressed, licked, and sucked her tender, virginal breasts. Moving lower, I kissed the flawless, milky-white skin of her flat, healthy young abdomen. She sighed like an angel as I kissed her inner thigh. I ran my hands around her slender hips, feeling the tight muscles of her abdomen beneath her soft white skin and the pelvic bones that framed her pubic region. She breathed audibly as I ran my calloused hands around to cradle her soft white buttocks. Then, moving my mouth between her thighs, I planted a gentle kiss on the sensitive white skin beside her vulva, and inhaled the delightful aroma of her arousal as she sighed sweetly. I repeated the act on the other side of her sex as her body was becoming noticeably more aroused. I ran my tongue up the sensitive skin of her thigh, and though her leg hairs were so fine that they were not visually noticeable, I felt them brush softly against my skin.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rachelle stare at us in amazement, but she was smiling. “Good sir… I have never…”

I smiled reassuringly at her. “Shhhhh.”

Returning my attention to Cherise, I brought my face close to her vulva. Ever so slowly, I brought my face so close to her that her soft, fine blonde pubic hairs gently ticked my nose. I smelled her sweet musk, a delicious, natural scent that communicated directly with the most primitive part of my mind, fueling my need and filling me with the urge to make love to this woman, claim her, to give myself to her and to make her mine. I blew gently on Cherise’s moist opening, and I herd her sigh like a dove. I wondered if she had figured out what was coming, or if oral sex were something alien to her. Then my tongue met her virginal slit. She abruptly sat up in surprise, looking at me with shock and amazement.

I looked at the two ladies, and it was hard not to laugh at Cherise’s bewilderment and the fact that Rachelle was clearly both shocked and aroused by my act of licking her daughter’s pussy. I couldn’t help chuckling. “Relax and lie back down,” I whispered in as gentle and reassuring of a manner as I could towards Cherise. “I think you might like how this feels, and it will moisten your opening and help prepare you for our lovemaking. If we try this and you’re not comfortable with it, simply say something and I’ll stop.”

“I was just… I have never imagined such a thing, sir,” Cherise said sweetly as she lay back on the bed. Her muscles were tense and her body trembled with excitement and nervous anticipation. She obviously didn’t know what I was doing. Rachelle simply looked on at us with a dumbfounded smile, and her hand was absently sliding lower on her stomach, her fingers finding their way down to the moist brown curls that marked the juncture of her thighs. Rachelle’s pussy was still soaked from our combined fluids, my semen slowly seeping from the tight orifice. Rachelle’s fingers began caressing her freshly fertilized sex, her body making moist sucking sounds between her legs as she watched me engage in foreplay with her daughter.

The teenaged girl’s breathing instantly became deeper as my tongue contacted her slit once again, and I could taste her arousal. Her soft pubic hairs tickled my nose and lips, and the earthy smell of her sweet musk compelled me to explore deeper into the secret crevice that lay between her milky-white thighs and her narrow, girlish hips. With a long movement of my tongue I explored her vaginal slit from bottom to top, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. I was in no hurry. I suspected that the longer I took, and the more relaxed and comfortable she felt, the less discomfort the girl would feel when I invaded her virgin pussy.

As my tongue worked between Cherise’s legs, her body rewarded my efforts with an increased flow of her sweet nectar. One of my hands on her warm inner thigh could feel her femoral artery pulse as her heart pounded in her chest. Her chest heaved with her ragged breathing, and her back arched, highlighting the concave curve of her abdomen and the natural ridges where her pale skin stretched over her ribs. Her arms were stretched straight down along her sides, her hands trembling, her elbows looking almost hyperextended.

Licking around her clitoral hood, I moistened a finger with the juices that flowed from her virgin body, and teased apart the warm, damp folds of skin to explore the wet, pink insides of her sacred tunnel. Her vagina was extremely tight, but she was also soaking wet. Pushing my finger deeper into the slick opening, I felt her hymen as I continued to breathe in a steady stream of the aphrodisiac pheromones her fertile body naturally produced. Feeling this tangible symbol of her virginity excited me even further, and my cock was so painfully hard that I knew that I would have to find release again soon. Cherise’s breath came in ragged gasps, and her hands clenched with white knuckles around handfuls of blanket. Her legs clamped around my head with more strength than I would have expected from the slender teen. She seemed to be trying to be quiet, but her voice made a straining noise as though she were trying to lift an impossibly heavy object before rising in a high-pitched whimpering squeal of sheer delight that she tried to muffle by placing her clenched fist between the small, white teeth of her mouth..

For a long moment she lay there, her body gently shuddering and my head kept immobile, clamped between her soft thighs. When she did move, it was so quickly and abruptly that my heart skipped a beat as she sat up. She grabbed me under my arms with her slender fingers and pulled me up to kiss me full on my lips which were still wet from her nether region. “You’re very naughty for doing that to me!” she said with a huge grin as my penis fell between her legs, leaking pre-cum directly onto the opening into her sweet body. My cock was soon rubbing along the length of the narrow crevice that led into her body’s most intimate parts. She was sopping wet.

“Would you like to be on top?” I offered. “This might hurt, and you might want to…”

“Just fuck me! I’ve waited two hundred years for this!” the teenager joyously cried with playful mock-frustration as she wrapped her legs around me and pulled me forward. Of course, with my cock laying its length along her vulva like a hotdog in a bun, it did nothing to gain entry. I pulled my hips back and lined the head of my cock up with Cherise’s opening. As I gently pushed forward, she tightened her legs around me. She was as tight as a clenched fist, and I was surprised that the tip of my penis penetrated her as easily as it did, but soon I felt myself straining against the barrier that guarded her innermost depths as she squirmed beneath me, trying to force our bodies to complete this act. Her slender arms were wrapped around my back and pulling me towards her with such effort that they trembled from it, and her legs were crossed behind my buttocks, desperately urging me forward. Her eyes were squinted shut and her mouth pursed into a tight frown. The veins in her neck were straining against the skin. A fine layer of sweat coated her pretty face, and a few strands of light blonde hair were plastered to her forehead. “Don’t let me be a virgin for another second!” she demanded. And with that, her trembling legs tightened even more around me, and I felt the membrane tear. She gasped and inhaled sharply as I tore through her maidenhood and deep into the crushingly tight depths of her muscular vagina. I had an image in my mind of a ribbon breaking across the chest of a first-place winner in a foot race as the beautiful young teenager gave voice to a strained cry of painful triumph, and for the first time, her body stretched to fully accept my member into the innermost depths of her core.

Cherise’s vagina was clenched around my manhood like a vise of steaming liquid velvet. I could hardly move, and I didn’t want to. I was buried as deeply as possible inside of the pretty teenager, my cock bathed in a mixture of her virginal blood, her vaginal fluids, and the fluids from copulation with her own mother, who lay beside us rubbing herself furiously as her daughter’s virginity was being given and taken. The teenager’s hot, sweet breath washed over my face in the rhythm of her deep breathing, and I could feel her heart pounding against my chest. She opened her sparkling green eyes and looked at me with a beatific smile. “I am a woman now,” she whispered softly. After long moments of encasing me within her silken tunnel, she began gently rocking her hips against me in the ancient and instinctive rhythm that has perpetuated our species for as long as we have existed. And, though I wanted to be gentle, I soon found myself responding with movements of my own.

Rachelle looked lovingly at Cherise and I as our bodies merged, our fluids meeting and flowing together freely. Reaching over, Rachelle brushed a wisp o f blonde hair from her daughter’s face, and then reached over and kissed her sweetly on the cheek. All the while, my hard dick thrust into the precious girl’s tender body, disappearing into the beautiful slit between her slender legs. With each thrust I was making into the teenager she gave out a quiet grunt. As Rachelle looked upon the beautiful act that was taking place before her, she massaged her sensitive sex with fingers that glistened with the products of our own lovemaking.

Cherise’s eyes glistened as her mouth twisted into a tight smile. “John, I have given you my maidenhood. Now I need you to give me part of yourself. Plant your seed deep inside of my belly, lover. Give me part of your essence that will be mine for all time; plant yourself deep inside of me. Make us part of one another. Bind yourself to me, and me to you. Forever.” She wrapped her slender arms around me and crushed her small breasts against my chest as she kissed me deeply, our tongues intertwining.

Suddenly, Cherise’s body began trembling convulsively around me, and her vagina tightened violently around my cock in powerful waves that were almost painful as her muscular tunnel contracted around my cock. Her legs clamped fiercely against my hips as though afraid that I might pull out of her and her petite butt-cheeks clenched tightly together. I thrust myself as deeply into her body as I could as her voice rose into a sweet, high-pitched wail of pleasure and triumph. Her hands clenched and rubbed in jerky motions along my back before reaching down to grab my buttocks, straining to pull me even deeper into her, or perhaps prevent me from escaping.

I could hold out no longer, and I joined the teenager in orgasm, ejaculating deep inside of her. I felt my body giving of itself, pouring my essence deep into the hot flesh of her molten core as our bodies strained and writhed together in passion. As I filled Cherise with my seed, I heard Rachelle cry out as she joined us in orgasmic bliss.

The orgasm seemed to last for ages, but like all good things it eventually came to an end. I lay on top of Cherise, our bodies still woven together, the pulsing of my cock deep inside of her body growing slower and slower. She kissed me gently on the lips, her green eyes wide. “Yes, lover. Part of my mother and I now belongs to you, and part of you is now forever ours. We are forever bound together. Don’t underestimate the strength of the everlasting bond you have just agreed to form with us. We shall meet again soon, my love.” I wondered what she meant by that as her lips pressed softly against my own.

From the blissful lovemaking with the two gorgeous women on a comfortable bed, it was wretched to abruptly awaken cold and aching on the filthy stone floor of the church’s basement. I could tell that I was surrounded by a ring of people that I took to be my friends, and there was a very bright flashlight shining right in my eyes from the darkness. I was shivering violently, chilled to the bone, and far too light-headed to stand. I was dimly aware that Heather had returned my jacket, draping it over me like a blanket. The leg that I had tried to use to kick the beast still felt icy cold, and it was painful to even attempt to move it. My ears were ringing intolerably from the tremendous blow my head had received, and my equilibrium had not yet returned enough for me to stand. When I breathed, I could tell that I probably had a few cracked ribs. My shirt felt torn and wet with blood. I noted with annoyance that the beast’s claws had easily sliced through my sturdy insulated vest. When I blinked, I saw a throbbing, transparent green blob that flickered like a phantasm in the left side of my field of vision. Having been involved in the martial arts for a long time, I’ve been knocked out a few times and have seen things like that hover in my sight as I was coming out of it before. I raised my hand and shielded my eyes from the painful light. Hadn’t Acratophorus promised to heal my injuries?

“Are you OK?” someone asked. The female voice was familiar, but I was too groggy to put a name to it.

“I’m fine,” I said in a hoarse, gravelly moan through teeth that chattered from the bitter cold that filled my body. My efforts to project a normal, healthy voice had been a miserable failure. “How about y’all?”

“We’re all just fine! The demon or whatever the fuck it was actually acted like you somehow managed to cut it! It fell to the floor, bleeding this yellow stuff, and then it looked like it died and just disappeared.” I recognized Diana’s voice.

“How long have I been unconscious?” I asked.

“Not long. Maybe ten seconds?” Diana replied.

I attempted to make a mental note to find out how time had managed to pass so differently for me while I was unconscious than it had for my friends. But as shaken as I was, I doubted that I would remember much for a bit. As I’ve said, I’ve been knocked out a few times before, and it always messes with your memory.

I staggered unsteadily to my feet, and several hands helped me up and braced me on my wobbly feet. My legs felt like wet spaghetti. I recovered my flashlight from where it had fallen a few feet away from myself, and then found my pocketknife a few feet beyond that. I noted with some surprise that the blade had sliced a silver-dollar sized chunk from the stone wall before falling undamaged to the floor with an edge as fine as if I had just sharpened it. I closed the knife and slipped it wordlessly back into my pocket with hands that trembled from cold and adrenaline. Still surrounded by my friends, I began shambling unsteadily and mechanically towards the opening in the floor. I felt dizzy, my head was throbbing, and I felt a bit sick to my stomach. I placed a hand to my head, and felt a nasty knot and sticky blood trickling from a stinging cut.

“Are you sure you should be walking?” one of the ladies asked. Another indicated that she thought I should sit down.

I murmured something about being fine as I ignored the pain from my cracked ribs and climbed down into the pit with the bones and shone my flashlight around. The skeletal remains that had been neatly stacked for two centuries were now a disorderly jumble. With a shiver I realized that those of pretty Rachelle and sweet Cherise were among them, and for the first time, I shuddered at the thought of what they might have meant by saying that I was now bound to them forever. I tried not to think of the poor souls that had been trapped here for so many years as I shone my flashlight around.

An old sword that might have once been an 18th century infantryman’s cutlass, or hangar as they might have called it, lay on the floor. The blade was broken and crumbling into flakes of dark rust, and the filthy hilt was corroded almost beyond recognition. It resembled old British military patterns that I was familiar with, and had probably been buried with a Loyalist who had wielded it during the Revolutionary War. Burying an enemy warrior with his weapons is an honor usually reserved for only the bravest and most respected of foes. I wondered about the man who had once held that blade. Nearby lay several equally corroded buttons and part of something that might have once been a belt buckle.

This was all interesting stuff, but it couldn’t possibly be the “treasure” that I was looking for. Taking another step, I felt my foot brush against something that moved when I touched it, and I heard a cheerful metallic jingle from the floor. It sounded eerily out of place in this gloomy tomb. Shining my light downward, I saw a beautiful, ornately carved golden armband rolling gently along the filthy stones and reflecting the light from a finely polished surface. It was a spectacular piece, cast in pure yellow gold in the form of interlacing strands of ivy and grapevines, woven through with delicately carved serpents. I have always enjoyed museums, and I have visited the Smithsonian in Washington DC, the Louvre in Paris, seen the crown jewels in the Tower of London, and even seen exhibits of ancient gold work from King Tutankhamen’s tomb and the treasures of Pompeii and Herculaneum. I have seen the work of legendary masters of goldsmithing such as Faberge. But even in the dim half-light, I knew that I had never before seen the goldsmith’s art so impossibly perfected as what was now before me. I could not imagine that the world could contain more than one piece of art this perfect. No normal human being would be capable of producing such impossible, awe-inspiring attention to detail or such impeccable craftsmanship.

Gold is a soft metal, and it is easily bent, dented, or scratched. It was a miracle that the chaos that had ensued here a few minutes ago hadn’t badly damaged this ancient treasure. It was also a miracle, I thought, that Lisa’s ex-boyfriend hadn’t found it and sold it at a seedy pawn shop. The safest way to get it out of the chamber without risking damage to it would be to slip it over my arm for the brief climb out of the hole. Even injured, I’m more than strong enough to accomplish the climb without the risk of scratching the gold, and it looked like it would fit me perfectly. I slid it up to my left bicep, the way an ancient nobleman may have worn it, and pushed my way up into the basement. I had braced myself to ignore considerable pain from my ribs as I pushed out of the hole that led up out of the tomb, but I found the climb to be easy and painless.

“You’re not going to believe what I found down there,” I said to the ladies. But my left bicep was tingling, feeling warm. I felt strong and steady on my feet again, although adrenaline still coursed in my veins. Looking to where the armband had been, I now saw an elaborate marking on my arm that resembled an intricate tattoo. It looked much like the armband, but was etched onto my skin with uncanny skill and precision. Even in the half-darkness, I could tell that the golden color of this tattoo was nothing that could be reproduced by an artist of any degree of skill. But the golden treasure I had found seemed gone. Perhaps the ladies were right and I shouldn’t be standing.

My friends didn’t seem interested in what I had found down there. As hard as I had just been hit in the head, it was as likely as not a herd of fuzzy pink elephants engaging in ballet practice.

“Let’s get you back to the house,” said Diana’s voice. I felt her arm grab my bicep and begin leading me towards the stairs.

“Diana, does anything look different about my arm?” I asked. She was holding me around the tattoo that the armband had left, but she didn’t seem to notice it.

Diana instantly relaxed her grip on my arm, but placed her hand on my back to gently guide me. “Once we’re out in the light, I’ll check you out and make sure nothing’s broken. For now, are you OK to walk?” she answered. She clearly thought that I was concerned that my arm might be broken, and she didn’t appear to see the strange markings on my arm. I let the topic drop so they wouldn’t think I was crazy or punch-drunk.

“This might sound weird,” I heard Erin say as we filed up the rickety wooden stairs that led out of the basement, “but something feels different about this place. I don’t think whatever that was is going to be back. It’s like John really did kill it.” And she was right. The basement was still dank and dark, but the oppressive feeling that had filled it was gone.

As we exited the church, the late afternoon sunlight seemed unusually bright. Diana had me sit down outside of the church as she inspected me. She borrowed my handkerchief and used it to clean my forehead. As her fingers traveled over my face, I could tell that the knot that I was certain had been there mere moments ago was gone.

“You’re not going to believe this, John. The blood doesn’t look like splatter from someone else, but you’re not cut. A few minutes ago, you had a knot on your forehead the size of a hen’s egg, but the swelling seems to be entirely gone. I have no idea what’s going on here.”

Several of the ladies around me watched as Diana wiped the blood from my forehead, revealing healthy skin beneath it. Next she lifted my torn t-shirt, and inspected my abdomen. Again, she found blood beneath the tears in the shirt, but no injuries.

“I’m saving this blood so that one of my buddies at the medical school look at it. If it’s not yours, I”m interested in knowing what it came from.”

Back at the house, Naomi greeted us at the door and let us in. As Diana, Erin, and Lisa explained what had happened to Naomi, I went into the bathroom to shower and brush my teeth. The tattoo on my left arm was still there. Perhaps I imagined it, but I actually thought that I might have seen one of the graven snakes move, although my arm certainly didn’t feel as though anything was moving on its surface. I felt exhausted. After I had scrubbed myself clean, I retired to the room that I had been assigned for the night. While my mind felt as though I had made love several times that day, my body was quick to remind me that I had in actuality not even masturbated, at least not in this reality, and the semen that filled my testicles wasn’t going to disappear on its own. My erection formed a tent in the blankets. It is rare for me to fall asleep without sex or masturbation, but I was utterly exhausted. I ignored my boner in hopes that it would simply go away, and eventually drifted off to sleep despite the attention that my penis was demanding from me.

Several hours later, I was rudely awakened by the lights in the room flicking on. Based on the darkness that was visible through the window, it must have been pretty late outside.

“What’s going on?” I asked groggily as I looked up to see all seven of the ladies in the house pour into the room. They were dressed for bed, wearing their usual sleeping clothes. All aside from Diana, who I knew always slept nude. She was wearing her jeans and t-shirt.

“Diana and my daughters told me how you bravely protected everyone earlier tonight, and I’m pretty sure that they would like to thank you,” Naomi purred. Something sounded unnatural about Naomi’s voice when she spoke. Her voice had a strange seductiveness to it that didn’t seem to fit with Naomi’s character. “I suspect that we would all like to thank you for your heroics earlier today.”

Suddenly, a blast of cold air struck me as Kim jerked at the blankets from one side of the bed. I was naked under them, and instinctively clutched at the bedsheets to avoid being exposed to the women. Laughing, several of the ladies climbed into the bed with me and joined Kim in attempting to wrestle the blankets away from me. I struggled to hide my erection as the merry struggle continued.

“Ladies! I don’t have any clothes on under these blankets!” I cried out with a laugh. What on earth was going on? I was soon buried beneath a comfortable pile of warm, wriggling feminine flesh as the other ladies joined them on the king-sized guest bed. I was stronger than any of them, and managed to hold on to the blankets from the top of the bed. I inhaled the scent of a pile of women on top of me, breathing in the girlish odors of floral shampoos and herbal body washes along with the delicious odor of female arousal.

“Get off the bed!” Diana playfully ordered the rest of the women. As they complied, she jerked the sheets and blankets up from beneath the mattress. I was too strong for them to get the blankets away from me up where I could hold them, but I could not hold the bottom of the sheets as well as the top. Diana whipped the blankets up from the bottom of the mattress, exposing my nude body from the waist down. Heather immediately climbed on top of me, kissing me with shocking passion in front of everyone in the room. Nobody seemed to mind her overtly incestuous lust as other women climbed onto the bed around me.

I didn’t know what was going on. Something unnatural was possessing these ladies, and while my body demanded that I make the most of this situation, my mind cried out that I could not take advantage of these girls. Heather slipped her nightgown up over her head, exposing the delicate curves of her chubby white body and her milky breasts to everyone in the room. Her white cotton panties were becoming damp with her sexual need as she ground against me. Through the soft fabric, my bare cock could feel my cousin’s vaginal lips caressing the underside of my manhood. I couldn’t believe that I was practically fucking my cousin in front of a room full of people. I felt my beloved cousin’s vaginal fluids soaking through the thin fabric to moisten my turgid member, and looking down I saw a few stray pubic hairs poking out around the leg-holes of the white cotton panties. Then my vision was obscured as my cousin returned her face to mine, sealing her lips against my own in desperate passion as her soft breasts pressed her firm nipples into my chest. Heather’s words from that morning echoed in my mind. “I’m super-fertile right now. I felt myself ovulate last night. I’m pretty sure that even if the head of your penis so much as brushed against my opening, if even a drop of your pre-cum got inside of me, I might get pregnant just from that.”

It was hard to hear well with my face smothered beneath writhing bodies and my ears filled with gasps and moans. Sarah’s face appeared beside my head, grinning with wanton lust and kissing me passionately on the neck while my lips were still engaged in a sloppy, wet kiss with Heather. I was vaguely aware that Sarah was completely nude. Heather’s warm, soft breasts were crushed against my chest as her tongue plundered my mouth. “Having fun with my sister?” Sarah asked with a wicked grin. “You’re a very naughty boy to be kissing your cousins the way you seem to like doing. But when you take your own sister’s virginity later tonight, I think that will be crossing the line between naughty and depraved.” She grinned wickedly, merry dimples appearing in her cheeks. “I like that. I’ll just have to show you that I’m depraved enough to keep up with you.”

It was hard to hear what was going on elsewhere in the room, but I heard Erin’s voice as she said something about “this is going to be my first time”, and my sister Kim replied that it was going to be hers as well.

Heather slid off of me to wriggle out of her panties, but before she could return to me Diane was voraciously sucking my dick as several other women began shedding their nightclothes or wrestling to lavish their touches and kisses upon my face, my chest, and my body. Diana pulled her mouth away from my cock long enough to slide her t-shirt off over her head and slide her jeans down over her wide, womanly hips. She wasn’t wearing any panties.

The instant that Diana’s mouth left my penis, the still wet member was immediately engulfed by Sarah, who seemed to have no qualms about shamelessly sucking off her cousin in front of a room full of people. Nobody seemed at all upset by the the taboo act that was occurring within less than an arm’s reach of them. Past the rush of pretty female faces that were bathing my face in kisses and warmth, past the soft feminine hands that caressed my body, I saw my cousin’s hair as her head bobbed on my cock. But none of these women were here simply after oral sex. Completely nude, Diana moved her curvy, shapely, tattooed body to straddle my cock. My vision was obscured as proper, motherly Naomi pulled my face into a wild french-kiss as I felt my best friend’s pussy swallow my cock into blissful heat and moisture. I thanked heavens that she was on birth control.

My hands traveled the nude female bodies around me as I felt myself washed away by bliss. Even fully-clothed, Lisa was more beautiful than most women that I have seen on the covers of magazines. But naked, she was beyond perfect. For a moment, I had an unobstructed view of her flawless, curvy, feminine body as I ran my hands over her perfect ass and her firm breasts. And, looking over, I felt certain that I was the first man ever to see Erin or Kim naked. Both of the beautiful virgins were gorgeous, and I remembered from my dream what it had been like to feel Kim give me her virginity before. It would take more willpower than I thought that I possessed to not make Kim and Erin both into women tonight.

The excitement of having a pile of women force themselves upon me was almost more than I could bear as I felt my best friend’s sweet pussy pull me higher and higher towards a mountaintop of bliss. She was at least as good at this in real life as she had been in my dream, her every movement calculated perfectly to bring the two of us higher into the rapturous ecstasy that awaited us. The warm, moist tunnel stroked and caressed my manhood, and I could hardly think of any part of me that wasn’t experiencing sensory overload. Soft, warm, feminine flesh pushed against me from all directions, pushing me hard into the gently yielding sheets and mattress that lay beneath me.

It was soon more than I could take. With one hand I was caressing my sister Kim’s virginal vulva, and with the other I was running my hand over my sweet cousin Heather’s soft, chubby stomach and thinking of how, in another reality, that belly would soon be swelling with my child. And I thought of her willingness to bear my child in the real world as well. She and I could give ourselves to each other entirely if we wanted to. All I had to do was let it happen.

Thoughts of impregnating my beloved cousin soon had my rampant member even harder as I thrust deeply into my best friend’s waiting vagina. She was so wet that her fluids were literally flowing in a stream down my pelvis and onto the sheets. It was hard to hear what was happening with all of the action that was swirling about me like a kaleidoscope of gorgeous female flesh, but Diane’s cries and moans of pleasure were becoming louder and more insistent. It was soon far more than I could take. With a loud cry of ecstasy, I ejaculated deep into Diane’s waiting pussy, feeling her body pulse and spasm with mine as our genitals conspired to take an act of pleasure and turn it into an act of procreation.

When she was satisfied, I looked down and immediately saw my cousin Sarah moving into position. She straddled my cock, facing away from me and giving me a perfect view of her ass as she began sliding her shapely body down to take me into her vagina. She was every bit as tight as I remembered from the previous night as her delicious pussy slid down to encase my cock in a sweltering sheath of moist pleasure.

The supernatural powers that had sustained me in my dreams were clearly at work as I thrust my cock up at my cousin as she bounced on me, bracing her body on her arms and wickedly moving her ass up and down in a deliciously controlled rhythm in full view of everyone. Nobody objected as the sexual nectar of two cousins joined before them, the very lewdness and forbidden nature of the wickedly taboo act transporting both Sarah and I into the heights of pleasure. When we had made love the previous night, we had delighted in the secretive nature of our act. But now we were shamelessly engaging in one of the most shocking acts imaginable, sexual intercourse with our own flesh and blood, in front of a room crowded with our family and friends. Only wild beasts behave like this. Looking down, I saw the slick viscous sexual liquids that Sarah was depositing on my cock as she moved her ass up, and then felt hot pussy engulf my manhood as she moved her tight, sweet butt down to grind my cock deep within the sweltering depths of her moist sex.

“I swear that I can almost feel you touch my spine!” Sarah exclaimed as she wriggled herself down to take my member as deeply into herself as she could, and I could feel her cervix grind hard against my cock.

A pile of writhing female bodies seemed to bury me as my cousin and I fucked, and the air was filled with obscene gasps and moans. Squirming through the mass of feminine bodies, my precious cousin Heather fought her way over towards me as her sister rode my cock. Soon, Heather’s face was directly above mine. She cupped my head in her hands, and shamelessly kissed me on the lips in front of our family members and friends. “Having fun with my sister?” she asked with a raised eyebrow and a wicked grin. “I hope that you’re saving some of that for me!” And then she returned her mouth to mine, voraciously sucking my tongue into her mouth as I felt her sister ride my cock.

The kiss from Heather was more than I could take. Moaning into Heather’s mouth, I felt my ass cheeks clench as my cock began spurting deep into Sarah’s core.

“Oh, my God! Are you cumming inside of my sister?” Heather whispered in awe before planting her mouth firmly against my own, our tongues wrestling as my hands massaged her soft breasts before reaching down to touch her soft round ass, and finally venturing between her legs. As I touched Heather’s pussy, the spurts that I was unleashing deep inside of her sister became even more powerful and I wondered how my body could possibly be producing so much semen. My semen production seemed to have increased exponentially, and I wondered if my sperm count had increased in a corresponding manner.

Lisa reached over and touched my face as Heather and I shared another scandalously taboo kiss. All the while, I continued to ejaculate deep inside of the woman who was my cousin and Heather’s sister.

“So, John,” Lisa whispered lubriciously. I felt her hot breath against my ear even as I was kissing one of my cousins and ejaculating inside of another. “I feel kind of bad for teasing you the other night with the whole bait-and-switch routine. I had to, you know. You might not have given that hard cock to your mother otherwise. But tonight, after Heather is done with you, I’ll follow through on my teasing. Are you OK with that, or do I have to be related to you before you’ll fuck me?” Lisa’s face was close to mine. “Should I call you ‘Daddy’ when you fuck me later? Would that turn you on?” she asked in a mockingly girlish voice. “I’ve been a very bad girl, Daddy. You should come up with a special way to punish a very bad girl like me.” She laughed wickedly before running a hot pink tongue up the side of my face.

I was still cumming minutes later when Sarah slid off of me. My cock continued spurting hot globs of semen as I kept on kissing my beloved cousin, Heather. I felt a tongue caress my thigh where the semen had landed, and was shocked to see that the tongue belonged to my innocent, virginal sister. Kim licked her lips and smiled at me as she made way for Heather to slide her fertile, curvy, chubby, body over the top of mine.

As my beautiful cousin’s fecund, dripping-wet, steaming-hot, vaginal lips parted over my defenseless cockhead, I realized that we were about to make the sort of mistake that cannot ever be corrected. The other girls I had just fucked were both on birth control. But not only was Heather not on birth-control, she was at the most fertile point in her cycle. Heather’s mouth pressed passionately against my own as I felt her slick, unprotected flesh slowly sliding downward to encase my manhood inside the blissful sheath of the most precious woman to me in the world.

Through a cloud of lust, I realized that things were getting out of control far too quickly. I loved Heather, and I didn’t want our first time outside of our dreams to be in the midst of an obscene orgy. I loved Heather so much that the idea of having children with her and raising them as normal parents didn’t bother me; if anything the memories of what impregnating my sweet cousin with the natural product of our love made my cock throb even harder as our genitals met for the first time in real life. I don’t care what anyone thought about us, and we don’t have any genetic disorders in our family that could hurt our kids. But conceiving a child within her here and under these circumstances would be obscene and wrong.

Heather, I realized, was far from being the only woman that was in danger. I felt certain that the night’s sexual depravity wasn’t going to end until I had engaged with unprotected sex with every woman in the room at least once. What if I deflowered and impregnated my sweet younger sister? What about the desecration of my dear friend Erin, who had treasured and guarded her virginity for so long? I imagined how she would mourn the loss of her virginity as her belly grew with our illegitimate offspring. And what would happen to Naomi’s marriage when her husband returned home to find her vagina swollen and red, defiled, and drooling my semen?

It was difficult to build up the willpower to escape from the situation I was in. The scent of my beloved cousin’s body was almost hypnotic in its sweet seductiveness. Her warm, soft body fit together so perfectly with mine that it seemed almost vulgar to break our loving embrace. And the thick, slippery vaginal fluids that Heather’s fertile body was secreting seemed to have a sacred, magical quality to them as they bathed my cock in her liquid love, her slick, silken tunnel slowly claiming my body with her own. But I had to act.

Moving quickly, I rolled Heather off of me as I slid my cock out of her, acting as though I simply wanted to be on top. There was no time to grab my pants. Diana’s hand almost caught my arm as I bolted for the door, but if there is anything that any martial artist is good at, it’s escaping from someone grabbing your wrist. I have no idea why every martial arts teacher seems to put so much emphasis on that particular situation, but I was grateful for the fact as my arm effortlessly snaked out of her grasp. I had always hated running when I was in the military, but I was grateful for the physical shape it had left me in as I sprinted from the room with the ladies following close behind me, our bare feet making slapping sounds on the polished hardwood floor. Yes, I was running from what most men would regard as a promise of Heaven. But I care far too much for these girls to ever allow myself to hurt them.

I sprinted down a flight of stairs, and used the post at the end of the railing to whip myself around in a rapid change of direction, the women close behind me. It would have been a hilarious sight to any third party that saw a naked man running from a squad of beautiful nude women as I streaked down a hallway and through the kitchen and dining room. There would be no place to hide for long inside of the house. I ran through the door that led into the living room, and hoped that I could loose them in the forest. I was not looking forward to the cold or to running naked and barefoot through the briars and branches of the woods outside as I approached the front door.

As I ran through the living room and towards the front door, I saw Erin’s nude form streak in front of me. She had clearly figured out where I was going and taken a shortcut through the familiar home. I looked at her for a split second as I heard the other feet rapidly approach from behind me. Erin was a beautiful woman, with perfect breasts, beautifully formed limbs, a flat abdomen, and a soft triangle of dark hair marking her virginal womanhood. I could have her virginity if I wanted it. She wanted me to have it; all I had to do was quit resisting.

Erin’s breasts heaved with her heavy breathing, and I could tell that she was praying quietly under her breath. Somehow, the juxtaposition of her holy act and her wanton nudity made the vision of her nude body even more erotic. My penis immediately snapped back to attention even as my hands fumbled to unlock the door. Erin blinked and stood there, not stopping me. She self-consciously moved her hands to cover herself for a moment, then seemed to think better of it and returned to standing with her hands by her side, affording all of us a view of her beautiful body. As I turned the polished brass handle of the doorknob to escape, soft feminine hands closed around me from behind and I was pushed to the floor.

Turning over, I saw Lisa straddling me. The strikingly gorgeous blonde was as naked as I had seen her in my dream as she slammed me to the rug at the house’s entryway. “You’re not getting out of here before I’ve had my turn!” she taunted as she lowered herself over me. “Hold his arms and legs!” she ordered, and four women rushed to grab my limbs and clamp them to the floor. Looking down, I saw the moist cleft of Lisa’s pussy as she lowered her hips, positioning my raging erection against her vaginal opening. Like the rest of her, Lisa’s pussy was perfect. She was far more beautiful than most actresses I’ve seen on TV. “Erin! I’ve got a special way for you to help hold him down. Sit on his face, and make him eat your pussy!”

Erin hesitated and I thought that she would refuse. Had she somehow broken the spell that was controlling the other women? After a moment’s thought, she stammered an affirmative reply as she walked towards me with wide eyes. Her legs trembled as she lowered her soft, fluffy mound over my face. I couldn’t help but admire the athletic curves of her perfect butt as her sweet-smelling pussy brushed against my lips.

I love eating pussy, and if I couldn’t escape the situation then I could always say I tried. I ran my tongue over Erin’s virginal slit, tasting her sweet innocence and realizing that this was the second virgin’s vagina that I had tasted that day. She arched her back as my tongue explored her innocent opening. Her pleasure didn’t seem faked.

I couldn’t see Lisa past Erin’s sweet butt, but I felt her as her warm, wet pussy slid over my cock. Lisa’s slick tunnel was wonderfully tight, but she was so wet from her unnatural arousal that my cock easily navigated her hot depths. Soon, I was clamped deep inside of her, her drenched vaginal walls caressing and massaging the manhood that she had welcomed inside of her beautiful body. I felt incredibly sensitive, feeling the slight ridges along the inside of her silken walls as she rode me.

“So, hero. What’s it like to fuck me while eating out my sister’s virgin pussy?” Lisa taunted me as her hips bucked against mine. She ground herself against me, and I met her movements with thrusts into her scalding pussy. “You can’t just fuck your best friend and your cousin before running off! You’ve got to get to know the ladies in my family before you’re done with your visit!”

“You could say that again,” said Naomi from somewhere nearby. Then she chuckled. “Tell him he owes us for dinner!” Several of the ladies chuckled at the vulgar joke.

Erin’s wet slit was rubbing hard against my face, my nose pressing against the soft pink button of her clitoris. I thrust my tongue as deeply into her as I could, and pondered the fact that I was the first man to feel this unexplored territory. And I prayed that her father would stay gone for at least a few more minutes. This might be a bit difficult to explain.

Wrestling my hands away from the ladies that held them caused the women that were holding my feet to tighten their grip, and I felt Lisa’s hands grip my chest and dig her manicured nails uncomfortably into my skin. But all I did was grip Erin’s perfect butt cheeks as I ate her delicious pussy. Her sweet, viscous nectar had been flowing freely even before I had begun licking her, but now she blessed me with an abundance of her deliciously musky juices. I chuckled at the thought of quoting Psalm 23:5 to the devout young lady, because her cup was definitely running over. I was enjoying every drop of the copious lubrication that her sweet body was providing. She began making loud whimpering sounds as she became more excited, and I wondered if she was approaching her first orgasm, or just her first orgasm caused by someone other than herself.

“Oh, my God!” Erin shrieked as her body trembled and convulsed upon my face, her clitoral hood gliding over her sensitive pink clit as she rubbed them hard against my nose and even more of her delicious fluids seeped into my mouth. She came for ages, filling my mouth and nostrils with the taste and scent of her sexual musk as her sister bounced energetically on my hard cock. With each stroke, I felt Lisa’s cervix meet firmly with the head of my cock.

After Erin’s orgasm was finished, she collapsed forward onto her hands and knees, her beautiful body heaving as she gasped for breath. Looking down, I could now see Lisa as she fucked me with wild abandon, her eyes crazed with lust. Leaning down, she kissed me full on my lips, which were still wet with her sister’s juices, and snaked a wet, pink tongue into my mouth.

“You taste delicious, John!” she whispered hotly before continuing the assault on my mouth. “Or, perhaps I should say that my sister tastes delicious!” I reached down, feeling Lisa’s perfect ass in my hands as her firm breasts pressed hard against my chest, her warm, flat abdomen rubbing against my own. There was no denying that we fit together well, and I could certainly get used to this.

Lisa sat up again, giving me a perfect view of her statuesque body as she rode my cock. I admired her perfect body, and then my eyes met hers. She knew that she was beautiful, and she smiled at the knowledge of how aroused that beauty was making me. If possible, my cock grew even harder as our bodies pounded together. She leaned back, causing my cock to rub against the front wall of her pussy, and she closed her eyes as she moved rhythmically. “Don’t move!” she said breathlessly. “Just hold still!”

She rocked against me, her eyes shut, her mind in her own little world. Her pussy was so wet that her moisture was seeping out and running down the inside of my thighs as she fucked herself against me, and the squelching sounds of her wet pussy around my cock were clearly audible. Her breath was coming faster, her perfect breasts moving in time to her breathing. She was close.

“Ohgod, Ohgod, Ohgod!” she chanted as her mouth formed a perfect circle and her face scrunched up adorably. “Oh, my Goooood!” she said in a high-pitched voice that terminated in a shrill squeal that was almost outside of my audible range. Lisa’s pussy clamped down upon my cock and her abdomen clenched visibly. She was bucking madly for a few seconds, and then seemed to freeze. Her face clenched in a paroxysm of orgasmic pleasure and her mind unwilling to do anything but enjoy the bliss of her orgasm as the insides of her body clenched violently around my member. After several minutes, she took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and kissed me on the lips. “That was awesome, John. But now it’s your turn. I want you to cum inside me!”

“Get on your hands and knees!” I ordered Lisa.

Lisa raised an eyebrow and then smiled at me. “Ladies, get ready to catch him if he tries to run.” But her voice lacked conviction. She knew that I was far too gone to even want to escape from her now. Even as she spoke, I wrenched my feet away from the hands that still clutched them. Grabbing Lisa, I roughly turned her around to face away from me.

Erin looked on with wide eyes as I positioned myself behind her sister, and I looked around me at my friends and family members. The fact that their lustful gazes were riveted upon Lisa and I as we fucked excited us both even more. Both Sarah and Diane had my cum trickling down the insides of their thighs. Naomi was watching her daughter and I with half-closed bedroom eyes and a drooling pussy that spoke of unimaginable desire.

I looked down at Lisa’s perfect ass and lined up my throbbing cock with the slick opening of her pussy. With one powerful thrust, I felt my cock spear deep into Lisa’s waiting tightness. Grabbing her slender waist just before the flare of her wide feminine hips, I began slamming into her depths with powerful thrusts that filled the room with the sound of slapping flesh. With each thrust, the head of my cock battered against the entrance to her womb. Reaching around her, I began rubbing her clit. I wanted her to cum again as I fucked her like this. Her pussy felt amazing around my cock, but it felt almost as good to my hands as I experienced the sopping flesh of her labia moving beneath my fingers. As I drove myself deep into her, I took my other hand and ran a finger along her ass-crack, delicately teasing the sensitive area. Soon she was breathing heavily, gasping for air as she thrust herself back at me with every bit as much vigor as I exercised as I slammed into her depths.

“God, yessss! Fuck the shit out of meeeeeeee!” She squealed as her pussy clamped down hard on my cock, her high-pitched utterance merging with my own groan of release as my pent-up sperm shot deep inside of her beautiful body. She ground her flawless ass against me, forcing my cock to press hard against the opening into her cervix as I ejaculated powerful jets of potent sperm directly into her hot, waiting womb. I pressed forward even as she pressed backwards, our fluids merging in full view of our families.

September 2018
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