Cherry Hill

Marsha Wilcox was sitting at home, watching the nothing that was on TV when she remembered that she had had a question for her son. He told her he would be over at the Allan house, but she didn't want to call over and disturb the Doctor and his family, so she tried his cell phone.

"Shit," she said quietly, hearing the ring tone sound off from his bedroom. "Well, I guess it won't hurt to just ask him," she thought. She had to go to the grocery store anyway, and the Allan house was on the way. She fired up the car and drove halfway around the block, parking in front of the modest, but immaculately kept home. Marsha stood up out of her little coupe, letting the engine run and pulled her pants up; she loved wearing her husband's cargo pants, but she was just a size too small for them and she had to watch how far down they slid. She sauntered up to the house and rang the doorbell.

The thick oak opened slowly, revealing the maid on the other side. Her size always took Marsha a second to get used to; the amazon was 6'3" and had the body of a track runner. 'All legs and no curves to show them off, the poor thing,' Marsha thought to herself.

"Marsha? May I help you with something?" the maid asked.

"Bianca, is my Marcus here? I had a question for him before I run some errands," Marsha said, a friendly tone in her voice. She couldn't help but notice she was staring straight at the taller woman's chest at this angle, the step into the house making her tower above Marsha even more.

"Marcus? Why no, he hasn't been here for a few days, as far as I know," Bianca said, a confused look on her face under her blonde mop of loose curls.

'Fuckin' Blondes. Why do people persist in reinforcing the stereotypes?' Marsha thought, a fake smile plastered on her face.

"Well, is Brian around? Maybe I can talk to him about where Marcus might be?" Marsha said, the chipperness in her voice betraying her thoughts.

"Sure, come on in, I'll bring him down to the living room," Bianca said, her voice almost bubbly. Marsha nodded her thanks and came in, going to the nicely furnished living room. She noticed Cynthia coming downstairs in a nice silk robe, fresh from a shower, her skin bronze from what was undoubtedly her latest tanning session.

"Hey Ms. W. How's it going?" she said, toweling her blonde hair dry.

"Pretty good, Cyn. Say, has Marcus been around here lately?" Marsha asked. She was oblivious to the fact that Cynthia was painfully aware that her cargo pants had slid down again, exposing both of her pelvic ridges and a nice expanse of skin under her belly button. Cynthia shook her head with the motion of her towel, clamping her eyes shut, trying to force the arousal from her body before her nipples tented the flimsy material.

"Haven't seen him. Why, is he supposed to be here?" Cynthia asked, forcing her focus on Marsha's face, trying to not let it drift down her body to her tight red T-shirt with monkeys splashed across where her bra-less tits were stretching the fabric.

"Yeah," Marsha said, turning her back to Cynthia, looking around the posh setting, getting lost in the mahogany woodwork and leather upholstery. Cynthia's eyes were locked on the twin globes of Marsha's ass, the very top of the crack barely starting to appear over the top of the khaki fabric. Her vision was shot down as Marsha realized the pants were slipping again and pulled them up. Cynthia slunk out of the room, replaced by her younger brother and the maid.

"Um, hey, Ms. Wilcox," Brian stammered.

"Oh," Marsha said turning around. "Hi, Brian. I keep telling you to call my Marsha," she said smiling, her hands sliding into the pockets of her pants.

"What can I do for you, Marsha?" Brian asked politely.

'You can start by letting me pop that cherry of yours, you fucking stud. I can't believe...' Marsha thought. She heard her own voice cutting herself off, saying, "Well, I'm looking for Marcus and he said he'd be over here. Did he leave already?"

"Uh, yeah. A while ago," Brian said, an unwritten rule by his brother to cover for any of his friends went through his mind. Marsha saw his face start to blush and his eyes start to float around the room.

'That lying little bastard,' Marsha thought. 'I wish this bimbo of a maid wasn't around, I'd give him a what-for. Hey, wait a second...'

"Well, do you know where he might have gone?" Marsha asked, pushing down on the pockets a little bit, exposing more belly to the young man. She'd probably have been showing off the very top of her bush, if she hadn't had the damn thing taken off with electrolysis. Brian's eyes traveled straight to it, and Marsha smiled, keeping an eye on Bianca as she flitted about the room.

"Umm," Brian said, blushing profusely.

"Now Brian, it's an easy question...and I know it's 3 in the afternoon and it's early for you, so the easier, the better," Marsha said, pushing the fabric lower. She shifted in her stance, making sure the damn things wouldn't just fall off; she could feel most of her ass was bare in the conditioned air of the house and she could feel the metal of the snap resting just on the beginning of the cleft between her pussy lips.

'Ease back, girl,' she thought, feeling her pussy heat up over the young boy ogling her, his house keeper not 15 feet away, completely oblivious.

"Yes, yes, Ms. W...I mean Marsha," Brian said. Marsha kept her legs spread but took her hands out of her pockets. The motion made the jeans rise a little and then fall a little further, her pussy barely out of the high-school graduate's view. She saw him lick his lips. A feigned angry look flashed on her face and she motioned at him, getting his attention. She pointed at his eyes and then pointed at hers.

"Brian, where is Marcus?" Marsha said flatly. She stretched, straining the thinning material covering her tits even farther, her nipples hardening from the cold air, the attention, and the movement of the material. Brian was transfixed, his eyes locked to her chest. He shook his head and forced himself to look her in the eyes. Marsha saw Bianca turning around and she moved her hands back to her pockets to hike her pants back up, but she hiked too hard and she felt the seam divide her lips, the roughness against her moistening sex and engorged clit gave her a little shiver.

"Is it too cold in here for you, dear?" Bianca said, seeing the guest shiver.

"Yes, yes it is," Marsha said, knowing the controls for the AC would be located in Dr. Allen's room upstairs. "I could turn down the AC if you'd like," Bianca volunteered. Marsha nodded and smiled. The Amazonian blonde didn't skip a beat as she turned from the room. Neither did Marsha. She crossed the space between them with cat like grace, the pants sliding down her hips with each swaying motion.

"Now Brian," Marsha said, knowing her heated twat was almost exposed. She stopped an arm's length from the boy and put a hand on his shoulder. "I know he's not here. I know he hasn't been here," Marsha continued.

"But, I..." Brian stammered, his flush almost as red as Marsha's shirt.

"Brian," Marsha said, taking his hand. "This is a butt," she continued, grabbing Brian's hand and placing it on her exposed ass. Her muscles quivered at the sudden heat of his sweating palm and she stifled a moan by biting her lower lip, almost unnoticed by Brian. She felt the hand try to move away, but she held it there. Once she felt the fingers flex, she knew she had him.

"Now Brian, I know you don't want to sell out your brother's friend, but I'll make it easy for you," she said, closing the distance between them. Marsha felt her pussy grind against the lump in Brian's running pants, the cargo pants having slunk down enough from Brian's hand that the only thing keeping them up was her spread legs. Marsha enjoyed it for the fact that Brian's thick cock head could rub freely on her wet pussy through only a layer of thin nylon.

"Feel that, Brian?" Marsha breathed against his neck. "I know you feel that because I feel your cock throbbing against it," she continued the tease, giggling at the feel of his thick meat bobbing when she said 'cock.' She ground her cunt against the material, feeling it slicken with her juices.

"He's not here," Brian said, swallowing hard. His eyes were closed and his heart was beating so fast she could see the veins jumping in his neck.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Marsha said sultrily. She stepped back just enough to feel the dick throb heavily against her clit, a hard sigh coming from her throat as she tried to not cum on the spot. "This, on the other hand," Marsha said, reaching into the tented pair of running pants, "Is hard as your muscles." She softly stroked the meat, finding delightfully that it was thickly veined and was easily three of her hand widths long.

"Maybe I'll have to have Marcus have you over sometime, and then make sure he disappears," she said, giving his balls a quick fondle. The sound of feet on the steps brought Marsha back out of her fantasy and she stepped back, her hands in her pockets, pulling the pants back up quickly.

"I guess it was a bit chilly in here," Bianca said with a giggle. "It had been set on 60 degrees!" she added, still bubbling with girlish laughter.

"Well, I need to be on my way, anyway. Thanks for everything, Bianca," Marsha said, her nipples standing at full attention and puckering, the heat in her belly over-riding the cool air. Bianca moved to the kitchen and Marsha turned to leave.

"And thank you, Brian," she said. Her left hand gave his stiff prick a good rub through his pants as if she were shaking his hand and her right dipped into her jeans and gathered a fingerful of her pussy juice. She showed it to him, let him see it glistening in the light and then sucked all the cum from it, closing her eyes and working her tongue over the sensitive digit. "Thank you so very much," she said, dipping the finger in again, but this time, wiping the honey on his lips before giggling and walking out the door, letting Brian get a solid look at her firm ass as she swayed out to her car.

********

Star Dixon left church as quietly as she had when she came in. She wasn't ready to go home, her mind suddenly distracted from a scent that she recognized blowing in the wind. She'd stepped out of the church, breathed deep the fresh air, always wondering why church smelled of sex. She often would shrug her shoulders and continue her walk toward home, but today was different, today she smelled him.

Her gaze went to the cemetery and she walked to his grave. Her sorrowful look fell over the plot, nicely trimmed and cared for. She bent down and pulled a weed that was trying to make its home at the corner of the marble headstone. Star wouldn't allow it. Her long fingers, with pink polished tips, ran over the cool marble. It was soothing to touch, the shade of the tree eased the heat of the day from her shoulders and for a moment she felt him with her.

"Shawn," she whispered, almost believing he was there, smelling her perfume, as well as hearing her words. Star thought of the last day they had seen each other. He'd kissed her goodbye, on his way out of town for business, their wedding just two weeks away. She recalled his touch, the feel of his hands and she felt a hot tear run down her cheek. Soon several were falling and her body wracked with grief.

She slipped to her feet and traced the letters of his name. [B]Shawn Walker[/B]. Her mind conjured up his face and she smelled his scent again. She turned to look around, noticed others leaving the church, finally emptying the parking lot and leaving her alone. Turning she rested on her ass, leaned against the marble stone, and whispered into the wind. "I miss you baby."

Her head fell back and she closed her eyes, soon she was sliding down to the grass to lay over the grave, the cool ground kissing her skin.

Shawn watched her, his heart pulling at him to go to her, tell her everything, tell her how wrapped up in the community he was, and why he'd done what he did. He saw the church empty, the cars leave, and then he saw her fall asleep. He made his way toward her, easy movements, stealth like; his training taking over. Once he reached her side, he looked down on her sleeping form and eased himself to his knees.

She was still beautiful; just as sexy as she was the day he disappeared and the FBI arranged his "death". Now they needed him back, needed him to infiltrate Cherry Hill again. His finger ran over her cheek, the barest touch being sure not to cause her to wake up. He lay down beside her, breathed in her scent and thought how odd it looked. To lay on your own grave holding the last woman you'd made love to before you were "killed" and not be able to touch her, or tell her your home.

Star rolled over in her sleep, snuggled into the warmth that she thought was the blankets in her dreams. She breathed deep and the scent of Shawn began to tantalize her mind. She moaned softly, snuggled deeper, and sighed his name. Her fingers moved over his chest, the blanket in her mind, and she curled her fingers around the soft material.

He held his breath while she settled back into him. He should leave her, go back to the rat infested hotel or find that slut Sarah May Wilcox and find his cock a place to rest for the day and night. Shawn's lips found the top of her head and he kissed it softly. She smelled the same, sweet like honey. His hand moved to ease under her head giving her a pillow. His other hand moved to her hips and he slowly eased her to her back. He stilled his movements once she was rested against the grass once more. Shawn's eyes traveled down her body, her breasts firm, her waist tiny, her short legs were a beauty to behold and his cock stirred at the memory of the one time they'd been wrapped around his throbbing member. It was the first and only time they'd made love. Two days later he was pulled from Cherry Hill and "died".

Star's dream floated between reality and make-believe. She felt the air stirring against her skin. Her mind told her she was outside, but she didn't let herself wake up. She wanted to be next to Shawn, it was where she belonged. It was no surprise when her dream took her back to their last night. She could feel him beside her, feel his hand upon her skin and her legs opening up awaiting for his arrival.

Shawn bit his lip as he smoothed his hand over her thigh, slowly working his way up to her panties. "God," he thought to himself. "She smells beautiful." His palm splayed over her panties and he rubbed the mound gently, barely a whispered touch against her skin. Shawn watched her face, making sure to stop if he thought he was making her wake up. His name fell from her lips and he knew she was dreaming of him. He smiled and eased a finger between her skin and the silk. He wanted to lift her skirt and see the color of them, but he knew he couldn't so his fingers moved over the soft blonde curls, curls he'd often teased and pulled with his teeth, but only once invaded with his shaft.

She felt the warmth of his fingers and her body rose up, the dream full of his smell and his touch. Star moaned, felt the long digits move over her now moist pussy hairs and tease them like he'd done in life. She dreamed of him often, but this time was the first time that it had felt so real. Her fingers moved in her sleep to slide to her nipples and she touched them, softly rubbing them as her dream lover rubbed her.

Slowly he teased her sex with his fingers, played with her clit, massaged the lips with lazy movements, so easy and gentle that she remained lost in her mind. His fingers moved further, searching for a hidden place to stroke and love, a place he'd often thought about on the nights he was alone, or in the bed of another. He brought forth more slick moisture and increased his tempo with every thrust of his fingers, making sure not to push hard into her, letting her become one with him again.

He'd watched her since he was called back into action. He immediately learned all about her. He knew she'd been with no one, his whole body jerked in response to that knowledge and he bent his head to taste her lips again. His tongue snuck in and he took a timid taste before withdrawing the warm moist muscle. He stroked her pussy, loving the sides, scrapping them with his nails, and watching her body begin to buck against his hand for more.

Star felt the passion building inside her, felt her body begin to climb a hill that threatened to make her fall and stumble down. She lifted her hips, squeezed his fingers, and called out his name. The dream hovered inside her and she clenched her eyes shut refusing to give up her orgasm or her dream state. She felt the driving force of Shawn's fingers impaling her and her fingers curled into the covers on her bed... the grass and dirt clogged her nails, but she didn't notice, lost in the passionate pulls of love that her dream lover was giving her.

Shawn watched her cum, felt the rolling waves cover his fingers and he ached to plunge his cock deep into the folds of her sex. When she shuddered one last time, he knew he had to leave her. His fingers slipped out fast, he rolled to his back and within seconds was quietly and swiftly skirting behind gravestone markers, leaving the beautiful blonde alone in the aftermath of her dream.

Star opened her eyes, barely able to focus. For a moment she thought someone was there with her, but she looked around and saw no one. Her hands moved to her sex and she found it wet with come. She brought the wet fingers to her nose, breathed deep and cleaned the digits. "Shawn," she whispered, rose from her place on the ground and looked back at his gravestone. "I love you."

*******

Lance's computer screens were filled with tiny images of live video footage. Most of them were pretty quiet. His neighbors, Antonio and Marie were busy tongue fucking each other while their mother, undoubtedly listening to her kids through the thin apartment walls, was slowly masturbating herself with a 15-inch jelly cock. She looked like she was mumbling sweet nothings in Spanish and Lance seemed to catch her in mid orgasm. Subconsciously, his hand moved his mouse to click the record button of those two screens.

Kaiser's place was surprisingly quiet. The 6 cameras he specially installed in her various rooms usually caught her in some state of undress, wandering around her house, coffee in hand, her juicy crimson muff open to the air. Today was not that day, however, and that was very odd.

"It's Sunday, though," Lance said, his cock twitching at the thought of what she might be doing and where. "That broad would park in a handy capped spot just to fuck the cop to get out of the ticket," Lance said out loud. He made a mental note to go back and check the outside cameras later incase she'd been sunbathing and he'd missed it.

With a click of the mouse buttons, the screens shifted to a new series of videos. The willowy Asian neighbor came up and Lance's hand immediately made the video full screen and hit the record button.

One of the Krest punks, Tony or whatever his name was, was plowing into the silken haired twat. She was bent in half, her knees spread wide apart and holding her pussy at waist level over the back of the couch. Tony was obviously his father's son, and his 9-inches sloshing in and out of her wet pussy looked like a glistening third-arm pounding into her crotch. Jade was baked out of her mind, her stomach twitching as the pole rode in and out of her. She was still puffing on a joint as her body was rocked, her shoulders threatening to slip off the edge of the couch.

Tony sped up, slamming his dick into the Asian cunt, and Lance could swear he could almost see that strong cock bulging within her as she was assaulted relentlessly. Jade started to scream, her voice would have reached Lance's ears had he not soundproofed his apartment so well. Lance was so captivated by the vision before his eyes that he didn't even notice his erection until it bobbed against his wrist. He almost jumped at the sensation of surprise and pleasure, his coffee threatening to spill into his lap.