Shattering the Myth

by Zane

  Today, I love you more than ever. You have given me all the things I never thought I would have. You have fulfilled my every desire. One day soon, I hope you’ll put a ring on my finger. If not that one, another one. I will gladly say, “I do!”

  My Knight in Shining Armor

  Journal Entry—June 1990

  Dear Diary,

  The worst part of growing up is finding out that your knight in shining armor has been eaten by time’s dragon. . . .

  When I was a little girl, I didn’t have the dreams and fantasies that most little girls have. Normal little girls dream of being a beautiful princess trapped in a tower by an evil queen. They dream of a handsome knight on a big white horse rescuing them, taking them to a magnificent castle full of servants, and showering them with diamonds and treasures.

  Well, instead of being a beautiful princess, I was an average little darling in my dreams. Instead of being trapped in a tower by an evil queen, I was locked in a closet by my evil stepmother. Instead of my knight riding a big white horse, he straddled atop a big black Harley. Instead of taking me to a castle, he took me to a small log cabin out amid the woods with a fireplace and lots of windows so we could see nature’s creatures and they could see us. And instead of showering me with diamonds and treasures, all I could think about was the way he could make me feel.

  Even though we have yet to make love, my knight in shining armor makes me feel that way. I dream of him all the time. I dream of his lips upon my lips, on my neck, atop my breasts. I dream of his hands touching my face, caressing my behind, between my thighs. Orgasm on top of orgasm.

  I dream of him laying me down upon a bed of roses and blowing lightly in my ear. I dream of us sharing every fantasy that each of us holds dear. I dream of making love in a rain shower, on a sailboat, in a clock tower. Orgasm on top of orgasm.

  I dream of giving him an oil massage, feeding him chocolate-covered strawberries, licking honey off of his chest. I dream of him entering me from behind and putting my entire body to the test. I dream of candlelight dinners followed by bubble baths. Orgasm on top of orgasm.

  One day, my knight will come to me, and when he does, all of my desires shall be fulfilled, all of my dreams shall come true. I know that he is here somewhere, lurking in the shadows of my soul, imagining the pleasures my body shall give to him as well. And when the time comes, he and I shall become as one and our nights will bring us both orgasms on top of orgasms.

  Imani

  Six years later

  Well, just like I always dreamed about as a little girl, I bought my cabin out in the woods. I wasn’t rescued by my knight in shining armor, though. Instead, I left home at the age of seventeen, leaving my abusive stepmother alone with my father, which is what she wanted all along.

  I got a partial academic scholarship for college and worked nights as a waitress to make up the difference. It had been a long road, but I had it all—at least, financially and professionally.

  After receiving a degree in marketing, I decided to venture out on my own and start an information brokerage firm, marketing information via the Internet. It paid off. I have a nice house in the city, my two dream cars, and the log cabin I always dreamed of.

  There was one thing still missing: the man of my dreams. Even though I had all the things most people use to measure success, the most vital part of happiness was still missing from my life. I craved for a man’s touch so much. A man who would make all my childhood fantasies come true. A man who would turn my ass out and make me cum at least twenty times in one night.

  I would go up to the cabin on weekends to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city, trading all the horns, sirens, and cars backfiring in exchange for the sounds of nature. Small animals scurrying through the bushes, birds singing in the trees, and the leaves rustling in the wind.

  The cabin I own is just like the one I imagined in my dreams. It’s small and cozy, with huge picturesque windows and a large fireplace. It has a loft bedroom overlooking the living room and kitchen area. There is one huge window that goes from floor to ceiling, so you can see the whole wooded area from either level.

  The cabin is secluded, and there are no other homes for miles. My friends always expressed concern about me being up there alone, because if something were to happen, I would be completely defenseless. That is, except for the Glock I kept loaded in the nightstand next to my bed. I love nature, but I am not a fool, so hell, yeah, I was packing.

  It was early one Saturday morning when everything in my life changed. I decided to go for an early-morning jog, about 7 A.M. The cool breeze felt great hitting up against my skin through the thin material of my windsuit. There is a river about a mile from my cabin. I often jogged there and sat by the water and thought about all the trials and tribulations of the hectic week.

  On this particular day, I must not have been paying attention to my surroundings, because I tripped over a log within ten yards of the river, twisted my ankle, and it hurt like hell. I was sitting there on my ass in the middle of the woods, holding my ankle and shrieking out in pain, when I heard a noise like some twigs breaking.

  I was petrified. My immediate thought was it must have been a bear or a mountain lion or some other type of animal that was gonna eat me alive. My gun was back in the cabin, so basically, I figured I was fucked for sure.

  I tried to pull myself up, but the pain was excruciating. I didn’t dare yell out for help. I figured that would only allow whatever animal was out there to pinpoint my exact location, as if it hadn’t done that already.

  I couldn’t get up to my feet, so I began to drag myself down toward the river. I had read somewhere, in a mystery novel perhaps, that animals lose the scent of whatever they are tracking in water.

  I heard some more twigs breaking and leaves being disturbed, even closer this time, so I broke into an all-out crawl. It was obviously something huge, and it was moving in on me at a fast rate.

  Once I reached the embankment of the river, I heard heavy breathing behind me, panting even, and that did it. I didn’t dare turn around. I just knew some humongous bear was about to have me for breakfast if I didn’t cast myself in the river with a quickness.

  I flung myself into the cold water hoping I would still be able to swim, even with the swollen ankle. Water, especially cold water, tends to dull pain, and I thought it would work to my advantage.

  Immediately, I realized it was a big mistake. The current pulled me deeper into the river. I lost my bearings and couldn’t even manage to dog-paddle. The water carried me down toward the river floor. All I saw was the sunlight glowing through the water and getting dimmer and dimmer until it disappeared altogether. What a fucking way to die!

  All I remember is the pressure of something bearing down on my chest cavity. I could hear myself gurgling as I coughed up the water. The first thing I heard was that same heavy panting. When I managed to open my eyes and adjust to the glaring sunlight, I saw this big-ass nose and long tongue and smelled some foul-ass breath. I was lost like a virgin in a whorehouse. I passed the hell out.

  When I awoke, I felt immensely warm; almost feverish. I looked up and saw wooden beams lining a ceiling and flames from a fireplace dancing on them. I was nursing the stomachache of all stomachaches, my ankle was still sore but good enough to walk on, and there was something cold on my head. I reached up to remove it and saw it was a wet rag.

  I was nude and covered up with several handmade quilts, which looked generations old, and lying on an old-fashioned iron bed. I saw one of those little washbasins and a pitcher sitting on a wooden table next to the bed.

  I looked around, taking in my new surroundings. It was a cabin, but not like mine. There was only one room with a little kitchenette area, a fireplace, a table pushed up against the wall with two chairs, a dresser, a bathroom with a sink and toilet and one of those old-timer silver bathtubs you only see in the movies, and the bed I was lying on. That was it.

  Then I saw it over in the corner and began to laugh hys
terically. It was a bloodhound, a brown one. I realized it was the beast I had been so terrified of, the one I almost drowned trying to get away from. It looked at me and tilted its head, probably wondering whether I was plum foolish or not.

  It became apparent that whoever owned the dog also pulled my stupid ass out the river and saved my life. I had been rescued, but not the kind of rescued I imagined in my childhood fantasies. This person literally saved my life. I had been rescued and taken to a log cabin out in the woods. The whole scenario was getting much too amusing, and then it became arousing.

  Could it be my knight in shining armor had finally come to me? I thought about how ridiculous it was for me to expect some handsome man to come in there and fuck me for dear life. It was more likely the person who saved me was some sixty-year-old white man with three teeth and a musty odor that came up to the mountains to hunt—maybe even a poacher.

  Fear invaded my heart again as it hit me. Maybe I wasn’t out of danger yet. What if the person had brought me there to cause me harm, rape me? What if he had only saved me so he could butcher me to death? All the classic horror films—Friday the Thirteenth, Halloween, and Night of the Living Dead— raced through my mind. I jumped up from the bed, wrapping one of the quilts around me, and started looking for my clothes. I didn’t see them anywhere—not that there were many places for me to look.

  I pulled out one of the dresser drawers, hoping to find something, anything I could cover up with, just so I wouldn’t have to run naked through the woods back to my cabin. Then it hit me that I had no idea where my cabin was. I didn’t even know which direction to run in if I did manage to escape. There was nothing in the top dresser drawer, so I pushed it back in. I had trouble pulling out the second drawer. It was crammed with so much clothing that I had to yank on it hard. When I did, something hit the floor on the right side of the dresser.

  I looked down and saw a double-barreled shotgun. That did it! It was time to haul ass, clothes or no clothes, swollen ankle or no swollen ankle. The dog was still sitting there in the corner, gazing at me with wonder as I headed toward the door. It didn’t have an actual lock on it, just one of those long pieces of wood that slides across into a wooden bracket and holds the door shut. I felt like I was lost in time—the Wild, Wild West and shit.

  I managed to get the door open and was ready to make a mad dash for my life, barefoot and naked if the quilt proved to hinder me in any way.

  I ran right smack into his chest, and the boomerang effect pushed me back just far enough for me to look up at his face. I exhaled! I had found him, or rather he had found me. After all my dreams, after all these years, there he was in front of me—my knight in shining armor.

  Tall, dark, and handsome. He was about six-two, around thirty years old, with a mocha complexion and as muscular as muscular gets. My dream, my fantasy, my knight. I walked backward into the cabin so he could bring in the wood that he had obviously gone to retrieve while I was sleeping. I pictured his muscles and physique as he stood out there chopping wood with an ax and wished I could have witnessed it.

  We talked and talked. I told him my name was Imani and explained to him what I was doing up by the river, where my cabin was, what I did for a living, how I thought his dog was a killer bear, and how I ended up at the bottom of the river.

  He told me his name was Deon. He was a carpenter in the city who also came out to the woods on the weekends to relax, blend in with nature, and do some occasional hunting. We chatted for hours, and he cooked me dinner out of tin cans. I was in love from the second I saw him.

  He had the most beautiful eyes, the most beautiful smile, and the most beautiful skin. Hell, he had the most beautiful everything, and he made me feel so comfortable around him. I felt like I had known him all my life.

  After dinner, Deon put a quilt on the floor over by the fire and massaged my ankle for me. All I had on was a huge flannel button-down shirt he gave me to put on. My clothes were outside, strewn about on logs so they could dry.

  While he was rubbing my ankle, I began to wonder whether my fantasy could truly be completed or I was being delusional. I wanted to know if he could make my ass cum twenty times in one night. Twenty was kind of a high number to shoot for with a fucked-up ankle, but I was willing to give it my best shot.

  I didn’t know how to broach the subject. Luckily, he did it for me by telling me how sexy I looked standing there in nothing but his quilt when I opened the door and barreled into him. How his heart almost jumped out his chest when I brushed up against it. How beautiful he thought I was when he first dove into the river and pulled me out. How sweet I smelled when he performed CPR on me. How he hadn’t been with a woman in over two years, since his wife was killed in an automobile accident two days before her thirtieth birthday. How no other woman had appealed to him since her death until the moment he laid eyes on me. How he wanted to get to know me better, much better, and possibly one day marry me. I was blown away. We had come so far in the span of one afternoon.

  I reciprocated by telling him all about my childhood dreams, which had become a repetitive part of my adulthood dreams as well. How I basically remained manless due to the fact that most men immediately turned me off. They weren’t romantic enough and simply could not begin to comprehend my physical and mental needs. How I felt a closeness to him already as well, and how I thought he was my real knight in shining armor, my destiny.

  Then, I told him how much I wanted to make love to him right then and there. How I wanted to finish the feelings, how I wanted to feel him inside me, how I wanted our bodies to fuse together, and how I wanted for us to give each other orgasm on top of orgasm.

  Deon took his hand and brushed his thumb gently over my cheekbone and across my lips. He rubbed it over my eyebrows and then from the bridge of my nose back down to my lips. I exhaled again! At that very moment, I became positively aware he was the one.

  We were both on our knees, facing each other, when I removed his hand from my lips and pressed my fingertips lightly upon his own. I took his hand, brought it back toward my mouth, and began to suck his fingers one at a time.

  We gazed into each other’s eyes, the only light in the cabin emerging from the roaring fire. I unbuttoned the flannel shirt I had on and removed it altogether, letting it fall down around my succulent ass.

  My hardened nipples looked like black pearls. He took one of my breasts into his hand, pulling it up to meet his descending mouth. He sucked on my breast like it contained his life sustenance. It brought me immense pleasure.

  I pushed him backward so that he was lying flat on his back. Then I straddled him and started to remove his clothing with my teeth. I broke off all the buttons on his shirt and made him sit up just long enough for me to get it off. I unbuckled his pants and then unzipped them with my teeth and got them off. I pulled his underwear all the way off with my teeth and on my way back up from his ankles, where they eventually landed, I took his dick in my mouth and tickled my palette with its sweetness.

  Sucking dick is the one thing I’ve always enjoyed, and I sucked Deon’s for a very long time, licking all around the shaft of it with my tongue, taking his ball sack in my mouth and suckling on it gently. I love the way a man shudders when I suck on his balls. I enjoyed feasting on his dick, and when he came in my mouth, it was like hitting the lottery to me, because we both came. What a reward!

  The fire was still going strong when I sat on his face and let him taste my honeydew. Just like I imagined, he was remarkably talented with his tongue. Nothing is more satisfying than having a man eat your pussy who makes no bones about enjoying it. When a man does it just to please you, it’s not as arousing, but when he does it to please you both, it’s such a turn-on. I came over and over again, orgasm on top of orgasm.

  Once he had been well nourished, I moved down to his dick, letting my pussy juice and cum smear along his chest as I inched my way toward his hips. I felt the head of his dick bouncing up toward my pussy like it knew it was coming and wanted to break
out the welcome wagon. I sat all the way down on his dick, pausing for a moment so I could get used to the head of it all the way near my stomach.

  Then I rode his dick like a champion, and he brought his hips up to meet my every thrust. His dog had been sitting quietly in the same corner the entire time, but started whimpering when our moans began to grow in volume. The fire was roaring, and I was still a bit feverish, so the sweat of my body covered him as it trickled down my breasts and my spine. We were like two wild animals in heat.

  We could hear the animals out in the woods making noises like they knew we were mating. I took hold of both his hands, and we clasped them together so I could ride him harder. I collapsed on his chest as we both came again, holding his hands back over his head, and started tongue-kissing him for the first time. We had saved the best for last.

  The intensity of our kiss was electrifying, mixed with the taste of each other’s body juices on our tongues. We bonded in a way we both knew was forever. We made love the rest of the night. Deon carried me to the bed and did it to me in every position we could manage without putting too much pressure on my ankle.

  The next morning he filled up the old-fashioned bathtub and put it in the center of the cabin by the fire. He had replenished it with fresh wood. We both sat in the tub, washed each other, and made love—orgasm on top of orgasm.

  He drove me back to my cabin, which I almost forgot even existed, in his Jeep. We spent the next two days there, both of us putting our businesses in the big city on hold. We fell in love in such a short span of time and wasted no time with fears and hesitations.

  The very next weekend we took the plunge and got married. We had the local justice of the peace marry us in front of a select few of our friends on the riverbank. Deon and I were both barefoot. He looked debonair in black slacks and a white cotton shirt hanging loosely instead of being tucked in. I wore a white cotton dress with a wreath around my head made out of vines and red roses. Even Zeus, who is now my dog too, had a great time.