The mist was beginning to lift as the hooded figure rounded another point jutting into the cold grey waters of the bay. Beside him rose a five meter cliff of gray clay and embedded rocks occasionally pocked with small tidal indents and fir tree trunks covered with slime and moss. Brian had grown to love the monochrome colors of the Northwest coastline and spent much of his free time wrapped in nylon and wool as he trudged across endless miles of rock covered beaches in search of whatever the sea would offer him. Not surprisingly, the forecast rain was thus far reduced to a murky drizzle, and he had wandered further than he had planned, but his day was free and his return along the gently rippling waters from whence he came would only enhance the warm coffee in his thermos awaiting him in the dry comfort of his car.
As Brian turned, he spotted some fallen debris, quite common as small portions of the cliff face succumbed to the perpetual forces of wind and moisture. The small indent from where the debris had originated was somewhat unique in its almost perfect teardrop shape and the scorched foliage surrounding the opening. As he peered into the shadowed darkness, he caught a brief glimpse of orange and brown flowers, not unlike sunflowers, that had an unreal sheen as if they were made from cheap plastic. Just as his eyes focused on the obscure blooms, a plume of blinding fine ash erupted from the largest bloom, covering him from head to foot in a veil of white and propelling him back into the murky water. He was stunned, almost euphoric and clamored back onto the shore before the water could permeate his boots, brushing the dust off while he stamped his feet.
His return to the warmth of his car was uneventful yet hurried, as his mind reeled with possibilities that were dismissed almost as soon as they emerged. Once safely inside his car, Brian poured a cup of coffee with trembling hands and took a small sip as an overwhelming sense of fatigue enveloped him. He dozed briefly but was awakened by the intermittent sound of heavy raindrops on the roof of the car. His coffee was still hot, and he gingerly slurped the sugar tainted beverage as he eased onto the two lane tree lined road that would take him to the warmth of his apartment. A warm shower and left over pizza became his primary focus as he parked the car in its covered stall, and made a hasty dash into his pad.
Brian was a private man, shunning crowds for solitude and the few close friendships he maintained. Content with his blue collar profession and salary, he strove to remain unattached to the cacophony of materialism for a simple uncomplicated life. As he brushed past the middle aged wife of his landlord, he barely mumbled his greeting unaware of how she froze in her footsteps upon his passing and immediately turned to follow him. As he fumbled for his keys, she pushed past him and rapidly unlocked the door before pulling Brian in by his crotch and kicking the door shut. With an unexpected frenzied flurry, she tore down her faded jeans and under garments with one hand while his sweatpants were peeled down his legs with the other. With barely a moment to view her large belly framed with unearthly white stretch marks, he tumbled over his own feet and bunched garments onto his back, knocking what little breath remaining in his lungs. She lunged onto his gasping form and savagely began mashing the overgrown thatch of unruly brown and gray pubic hair against his lifeless genitals as her face contorted in agony.
Brian was quite aware of his own sexuality, but his deepest fantasies had never imagined such an unbridled attack by an opposing gender that, from his limited experience, always played the submissive, disinterested role. As the stars disappeared and his wind returned, he could feel her pubic thatch scraping his sensitive genitals, painfully now, as every forceful thrust crushed his gonads deep into his abdomen. His mind reeled as he struggled to protect his masculinity. Suddenly she shrieked and convulsed violently, bathing his thighs and torso with her orgasmic shower before falling onto his chest so abruptly, that his breath was almost taken a second time. Slowly rolling onto the worn mauve carpeting, she trembled sporadically as the bright red flush encircling her neck and face began to fade. Brian had never experienced anything remotely resembling intercourse on this level, and reverently surveyed the angry red genitals he had so gingerly cared for all of his life and wondered why.
She stirred as he sat it stunned silence. Slowly she struggled into her jeans and rose with a wide eyed look of fear and frustration. Wordlessly, she slipped out the front door into a torrential downpour, leaving her tattered panties draped over the edge of his coffee table, and a pool of expended passion in the middle of the floor. Not prone to swear, Brian muttered a few expletives and gently rose to his feet, cradling his battered scrotum gingerly as he made his way into the shower. The warm water soothed and stung his abused genitals, as the clammy cool of the morning circled down the drain in a soapy whirlpool. The life he had always viewed as routine and uneventful had suddenly become writing material for a porn thriller. As the warm shower spray bathed his fine brown hair, he thought he heard the front door reopen, and assumed his landlady had returned for her underwear. The shampoo bubbled gleefully as he massaged the gentle suds into his scalp, unaware that that a young feminine form was disrobing on the other side of the mist covered shower door.
A cheerleader in her junior year, Lety had moved into the apartment next door several months ago with her jock boyfriend, Roscoe. A frequent visitor to Brian's fantasies, the Hispanic beauty would barely glance at him, and was far from offering even the time of day to anyone outside of her squad members or those with who had far more to offer than he. So the very idea that the lithe olive skinned beauty would step into his shower brought an entirely new perspective to the days already confusing chain of events. Wordlessly, she stepped up to Brian and, placing one of her legs on the edge of the tub, fondled his genitals wantonly into fullness as her lips found his and she pulled him eagerly to her. With a well practiced maneuver, she slid the head of his now throbbing organ into the warm moist folds of her femininity, and hiking both legs around his hips, began to ride him as a woman possessed. With her head thrown back as the warm spray cascading about them, Lety pounded his groin unmercifully, mewing senselessly as her orgasm quickly approached. Brian was beside himself, but the brain inside her velvety warmth overruled any objection from his reeling brain above.
As her firm breasts ground into her chest, his hands slid under her firm bottom, cradling and assisting her rhythmical assault. Within moments she impaled her perfectly shaved torso fully onto his manhood while her manicured nails clawed feverishly into his shoulders, shrieking her orgasmic bliss to the tiled walls. A profound burning sensation, previously unknown to Brian boiled from the very core of his being and erupted explosively into the tight convulsing folds of her femininity as her shriek of ecstasy turned into the rutting rave of a possessed animal. His back was giving out, yet Lety continued her animal driven assault until, with one final guttural groan, she fell against him, the muscles of her vagina gripping the base of his organ fervently as the rest of her body melted into bliss.
Carefully, Brian cradled her dripping lifeless form out of the bathroom and onto the couch, gently dislodging her nails from his skin, while feeling every muscle in his battered and overused body protest. Securing the shower, he dried himself quickly before hustling to Letys prone form to dab her dry and cover her with the robe she had worn over. Her breaths were deep and slow, and Brian couldn't help but lift the robe gingerly on several occasions to study her flawless naked form. The events of the day suddenly overwhelmed him, and he fell backwards into the comfort of an old flowered wing back chair he had inherited from his great grandfather. Up to this point in life, his sexual experience had been purely a hit and miss proposition torn between outright rejections or lifeless encounters. In the past hour he had been raped twice, and although the experiences had been quite uplifting, they were far from fulfilling. As he reached behind the chair to insure the door was locked, he heard the booming voice of Bob, his downstairs neighbor and fellow armchair coach.
"Hey what you doin', dude?"
"Hi Bob, Come on in."
"Heard all the noise and figured. . . Holy S***, Ain't that Rosco's chick?"
"I think it is, Bob."
"Man, you got to have a lot of balls to be screwing her -- ain't you a little worried about getting' your dick ripped out or somethin'?"
