Arousing Family

by Emelia Andersen

Then she quickly turned and headed back up the hill. After about twenty feet, she turned to look at me, rooted to the ground in shock, and asked if I was coming with her or not.

  All I could think of was, "Anywhere." Again she turned to look at me and I realized I had said that aloud. She gave me a quick smile, turned and strode off again. I couldn't help but notice how well the jeans fit her shapely butt.

  When we got back to the house, she turned towards the barn, but I stopped, asking where she was going? She paused, and started to point at the barn apartment, when I shook my head and pointed to the house.

  "I have four bedrooms, three unused, I'm sure we can find one for you."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah, come on, there's a bath waiting for you."

  Well, she looked through the three bedrooms, picked the one she liked. I pointed out her bathroom, the hall closet full of towels, told her 'enjoy'.

  ***

  An hour and a half later she finally reappeared. Her hair shone with red highlights, she had lightly applied makeup, she had on a clean pair of jeans and a light colored tee shirt. On her feet were a pair of sandals, her toe nails appeared to be freshly painted.

  "Better?"

  "You have no idea! Thank you, thank you, thank you. But what changed your mind about the barn?"

  "Just call me Softy. Would you like some lunch? Then we can discuss your duties around here."

  While we ate, we discussed how I wanted things done. I explained most of the house had been just ignored so the first thing had to be dusting and cleaning. Probably tackling the sheets in her bedroom should be done also. She just kept smiling and nodding her head, as soon as we finished eating she cleared the table and got busy. I went outside to take care of some things I had noticed needed doing.

  About four I came back in, Madge was busy in the laundry. There was a pile of sheets on the floor and the washer and dryer were humming away.

  "What would you like for dinner?" She said, "I'm cooking."

  "You see what's in the freezer and surprise me. I'm going to get a shower."

  As I was coming back into the kitchen, still drying my hair, I saw Dave's pickup pulling into the yard. I stepped out to greet him as he opened his door and swung out. "Is Madge here?"

  "Yeah, she's inside cooking. Come on in."

  "Thanks, I was a little worried about her. I was pretty sure she was up here but..."He paused, "We may be just friends, but I still feel responsible for her right now."

  Madge saw him come in, walked over, gave him a hug, told him he was just in time for dinner, and could wash up while she set the table. I started to reach for the dishes, only to find myself being shooshed out of the kitchen, "No, no. I said I'll do it. From now on this is my kitchen. You stop at the door."

  "What if I want coffee? Or a snack?"

  "There will be a pot on the counter. And you don't need the snack. I want you to lose a few pounds."

  "Wait, what?"

  "We'll talk later. Go sit. I'll take care of things."

  About then Dave came back, asking what was going on. All I could do was shrug my shoulders and say I thought I had just been kicked out of my own kitchen. We sat in the den, just talking about his day and the job he had been on. He did apologize for the lies when we first met, explaining he just couldn't admit to being homeless.

  About then Madge called us to the table. It was nicely set, and she had made up a dinner of yellow potatoes, ham slices and vegetables, with rolls on the side. As we sat, she explained she had done the best she could with the limited supplies I had. She had made enough to include Dave as she was sure he would be there.

  That was probably the best meal I had, outside of a restaurant, in several years!

  As we ate, Dave explained his current job was over, and he had decided there just wasn't enough in the area to sustain all the carpenters in the Local plus all the non-union guys, so he had checked the books, and it looked like there was more work in the San Francisco area. He planned on heading south in the morning. He asked Madge if she was all right with that? She said he needed to go where the work was, but she was just fine here.

  I told him to go pack his gear, if he hadn't done it already, he could sleep in a bed tonight.

  While he was gone, Madge and I cleared the table (at my insistence), then she made sure there was a bed made up for him. When he returned I pointed out a bedroom and the bathroom, told him to feel free to enjoy a shower, then join us out on the deck for a drink and a view of the sunset.

  The large deck with a variety of chairs, tables and chaise faces west-toward the Olympics. The view was the usual early summer sunset; reds and oranges fading to blues and grays as the sun disappeared behind the mountains. We were quiet as the sky slowly transitioned to night. Finally Madge seemed to let out a breathe, and said, "Wow... I can see why you sit out here in the evening. Is it like this every night?"

  "No, some nights are better, some have more clouds, even rain at times. I take them as they come."

  With that, we headed for bed. I put the seat cushions away, protecting them from the morning dew, then went to the bathroom attached to my bedroom, Dave went to the other. Madge picked up our glasses, turned off the lone light in the kitchen, and went to her room.

  Once again I tossed and turned, pictures of Madge as she came from her bath running through my head. This began to worry me, as I hadn't been concerned about women since my wife's death, and, she was much younger than me. She was, moreover, a good looking woman with an easy smile and beautiful eyes. I was definitely feeling confused, worried I may have made a mistake inviting her into my home. I did finally sleep, and when I woke the next morning felt much more rested than expected.

  At breakfast, we talked more with Dave, hearing his plans to find more permanent work, get another apartment, just settle down.

  "It'll probably be years before I want to go camping again," he said with a small smile, "but eventually I'll explore the Sierras, maybe Death Valley too."

  While we walked Dave out to his truck I carefully asked how he was fixed for money.

  "I have a couple hundred from this last job. Would you like part for Madge?"

  "No,no. I just wanted to be sure you'll be all right. Will you have enough for you're needs? You know, gas, food, maybe a motel?"

  "I can make 'Frisco' in about twenty hours driving, so may only need one night at a motel. I should be fine. But thanks for asking any way."

  I shook his hand, wishing him luck. She hugged him, saying thanks for all he had done, telling him to keep in touch. As he drove down the driveway, Madge stepped next to me and put her left arm around my waist, I automatically put my right around her shoulder. She leaned into my side, quietly saying, "I'm going to like it here."

  "And just how long do you think you're going to be here?"

  She looked at me and said, "a very long time."

  The End.

  On the Edge...

  You sperm-slurping, dick-craving, clit-rubbing, fuckwhore cunt...it's been a long, long time, hasn't it, bitch...but we both know you are still the same faithless, worthless, cock-seeking cum-slut that you have always been, don't we, whore...oh fuck yes we do...we know that you still have relationships with worthless, trusting men because they fill up the dead spaces in your life and provide you with some sort of half-assed crutch...but you lie to them, don't you bitch, after a while...you lie to all of them eventually right through your teeth because you are a slut and you can't stop being a slut and you don't want to stop being a slut...do you, fuckwhore...

  You are what you eat, and you eat what you are, and you eat cock and sweat and cum and words like these, hungrily, because they fill the empty spaces inside you that nothing else can reach...empty, aching, dead spaces that can only be filled with the mirror-image reflection of the lust and worthlessness you feel inside...and, hey, that last relationship of yours worked out really well, didn't it, dick-licker - or, it worked out right up to the point where the sheer drudgery of it all drove you out of
your freaking mind and you dressed up one night in a mini-skirt and high heels and no panties and drove off in a frenzy to the wrong side of town, so you could get your fuckholes stuffed with hard, strange, cum-shooting dick...and hey, wouldn't you know it, my cock is hard right now, whore, as I type these words of sex to you, because I know that you are on your way over to my hotel, right now, and I want you to read this when you go home tonight, while you sit in the darkness and play with yourself, after you have spent a half an hour or so nodding in agreement with everything your "boyfriend" says to you as you smile and act like you've been shopping while my cum drips out of your pussy and ass, right into your fucking panties...

  Because you do like that feeling, don't you, cunt...you like to stand there and realize you fooled his moronic ass yet one more time while you feel that slow, oozing, drip-drip-drip of semen into you thong...while you stand there and nod and think about the suck marks on the insides of your thighs and the bruises on your legs and ass and tits, and exactly how you are going to avoid being naked in front of him for the next few days, so you can extend this little game you play just a little bit longer...

  You play the game with him because you need validation - if you don't have someone to fill up the dead spaces in between the times you are playing the good girl, and the times you are getting raped - with someone who loves you and is totally fooled by you, someone you hate because he doesn't see the real you - well, you will go completely insane then, won't you, whore, instead of partially insane, like you are right now...but I understand all of this and the men who fill up the dead spaces in your life, they just don't get it and they will never get it because you have to hide what you really are from them...

  We both know your self-esteem is determined at any given moment by the number of men who express an interest in fucking your brains out...yeah, slut, I get it...you could have the best freaking day in the world, where everything goes right - but if not a single man gives you the eye, or smiles at you in a way that lets you know he wants his dick buried in your cunt, you feel worthless...don't you, slut...and you ARE a slut and you can't BE a slut all the time because you have to get by in the world, even if you hate the world in which you live...and yes, I get it, it's a tough nut to crack - so you let nuts crack all over your face and inside your fuckholes whenever the fuck you can get away with it...

  When you get here this afternoon I have a surprise for you, cunt...four big surprises, in fact...me...and three of my big-dicked friends...and we are going to rape the fuck out of you and videotape it and play it back for you, and rape your fucking ass again and again, over and over and over, until you lose your fucking mind and let yourself go and wallow in that red blur of straining cock and grunting lust and red-faced release and orgasm after orgasm after fucking orgasm...yeah slut, I know what you need like no one else ever will and that's why you come back to me again and again even though you hate yourself for it...and my dick is harder now, slut, as I type this, because you will be here in about 10 minutes and I love the way your tramp stamp looks, as I mount you like a dog from behind, while another big dick is already pumping way inside your tight, pink, wet, grasping pussy from underneath, while I slide my thick cum-shooting cock into your asshole and bite your neck and whisper, "Let the games begin...bitchhhhhh", low in my throat, the way you love to hear it, the way you need to hear it as you tilt your head to the side and start to grind against the hot meat stretching you out like stove pipes, as you give into their big-dick thrusting - tilting your head just so, as the muscles tense up in your neck, and your jaw starts to clench and your eyes start to roll back inside your head and you moan in total release while your hands reach out frantically and grab hold of the big cocks that have been bobbing against your face for a couple of minutes, and you finally let it all go, don't you, fuck-slut, you finally let go of all your inhibitions ("Rape") and you stuff the dicks into your wet mouth ("Suck it, slut") and you suck and bite and lick the undersides of them, and inhale their scent, until you drift away to that world where nothing else matters, until you smile like a fucking cum-drinking slut who has finally come home again, and we keep pounding your holes until you cum so hard that you think you are on the edge of death itself...

  Because that's the only time that it all makes sense.

  See you in a few minutes, bitch.

  The End.

  Cleverly Disguised

  An early spring rain pelted the parking lot, dropping the temperature to a new low. Inside the frozen yogurt store, Terri shared at one of the round tables with her boss, Derrick McIntire, waiting for customers they knew would be rare. The dark storm clouds triggered the electronic eyes of parking lot lights, adding to the gloom. Inside the brightly lit store, Derrick grinned at the faint blush on Terri's cheeks. "Wow, what are you reading that can make you blush?"

  "Porn," Terri replied, looking directly at him though her cheeks were pinked with embarrassment. When Derrick laughed, he saw her embarrassment fade as her eyes narrowed. "What's funny about that?"

  Derrick considered where to start his list. Terri Saunders had all the hallmarks of being an innocent. Her sunny demeanor matched her blonde hair, blue eyes, and sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. He hired her because she was perky. Quick witted and smart, she laughed easily and weathered the rudest customers with patience beyond her twenty years. Once he tried giving her a guest spot in a fantasy. Stroking his hard cock, he got as far as imagining her bare, small breasts before giving up and replacing her with someone else. Terri Saunders was too much of a good girl to star in one of his masturbatory delights. "How you blushed," he said.

  "So what do you use when you're doing it yourself? Probably videos, right?"

  "Usually," he said, wondering if his cheeks were turning pink, too. "So, what kind of stuff are you reading, erotic romances?"

  "Ew, you're not even close. Tell me what kind of porn you like to watch and I'll tell you what I like to read."

  Considering her condition, Derrick felt a stirring in his lap as he imagined telling her the truth. He wouldn't. No way. "The usual stuff," he hedged, earning another steely eyed glare from her. "Seriously, just man on woman stuff. Now your turn." Her answer surprised him.

  "Mostly hardcore BDSM erotica."

  When Derrick started laughing, he earned another glare, but he couldn't help it. The idea of this sweet, innocent girl reading hardcore anything was funny enough, but BDSM? He struggled to rein in his laughter. "Sorry. I just, I don't know, wasn't expecting that answer." Terri didn't looked hurt by his laughter, she looked pissed. His glee faded. "So, um, what's the attraction?"

  "Being in control," she said. "Making people do stuff."

  Derrick chuckled. He liked Terri's personality, but it was her work ethic that had room for improvement. Lazy, she never displayed a single trait of leadership. "Like what?"

  "Everything. Anything," Terri answered with a shrug. "Kinky stuff. The kinkier the better." There was a faraway look in her eyes as she stared at a spot on the wall just over his shoulder. She shivered. "I just think it would be hot to own a real sex slave."

  "Well, let me know when you're taking applications from forty-something old guys." Once again, her answer surprised him.

  "Tease."

  Derrick considered the pretty blonde for a long moment. Could she be serious? "What if I wasn't joking?" he floated.

  "What if I'm not, Mr. Mac? Do you really want to be a tool with no rights, forced to worship me without a promise of release and to cater to my every desire, no matter how sick or twisted it may be?"

  He held her gaze before chuckling. "Now who's the tease?"

  "Show it to me," she said, never cracking a smile.

  "Show what?"

  "You heard me. If you want to do this, then let's do it. Show it to me. Right here. Right now."

  "You'd freak if I did."

  "No, I wouldn't. But I would have accepted you into my service."

  "What do you mean, 'would have?'"

  She
patted his hand. "Slaves have to be strong, Mr. Mac."

  "You're saying I'm chicken?" he asked, wondering if it was a game.

  "I'm saying you're not made for a life of service and you just proved it."

  "Ask me again."

  "Wrong answer," she laughed. It took him a moment to catch up with why it was wrong.

  "Sorry," he said, realizing it wasn't his place to ask her for anything.

  "Thanks better," she acknowledged. Tilting her head to the side, she considered him for a moment with half a smile on her face. "Make it hard for me and we can try this again."

  Derrick felt his willpower fading. He had bought a fitness center membership in hopes of meeting a higher caliber of women. For three months, he worked off his middle-aged spread; tightening and toning his body into a shape the twenty-something version of him never knew. Proud of his new body, he was frustrated each time he spent time with another woman in his age bracket. He deserved better, but three months of doing it himself had worn thin. Grabbing the front of his work khaki's he rubbed the beginnings of a hard-on. "You know I'm really going to do this, right?"

  "I'm counting it," she said, grinning as her eyes flickered towards his crotch.

  "Want to go into the backroom?" he asked, feeling his hard-on reaching acceptable lengths.

  "No. Right here. Right now. Stand up, pull your pants down, and show it to me. If you're not hard, the deal's off."

  "And if I am?"

  Leaning across the table, she propped her chin in her palm and held his gaze. "Then it's playtime for me. Now show it to me, bitch."

  On the wrong side of forty, he was too old for this. He knew better. He was risking his reputation and job. At barely twenty, Terri was too attractive and vibrant to want him. He knew this was just a game for her. What if he did it? Risking her laughter didn't give him pause, it was losing a good team member weeks before things would get busy. But life is made from tiny choices made on the fly. Working in steps, he undid his belt, the button at the top of his khakis and worked his zipper while staring at her. Terri held his gaze, her eyes never wavering from his. Reaching inside his underwear, he laid his hand the long, firming rod of his manhood. He caressed the instrument of his pleasure, wondering what her reaction would be. While he wasn't blessed with porn star proportions, Derrick wasn't embarrassed of his length or girth. He knew he had more than most and those with more were few. Letting the smaller head made the final decision, he stood.