Antique for Gordon

CHAPTER 1

Gordon Kincaid had been driving since forever, or so it seemed.

He'd come onto Lookout Mountain in Chattanooga, had driven through part of Georgia, and now was in Alabama. Problem was, he was still on Lookout Mountain.

The road had twisted and turned all the way up the mountain, drawing him to the tourist traps. What had started out as a simple sight-seeing trip had gotten reasonably boring after the first hour.

Ruefully he remembered the 700,000 billboards that had drawn him here.

Let's face it. When you look out over seven states, even though you know that they won't be there in reality, your mind expects to see the state lines. Without them it's just another panoramic vista.

Instead of heading for the other "attractions" he'd decided to sightsee on his own.

Driving the mountain turns had been interesting, but once at the top he'd driven down mostly straight roads, mile after agonizing mile.

"Boredom sucks," he thought to himself.

In Chattanooga for a business conference that had been postponed due to the delayed arrival of the key speakers, Gordon had found himself with a day to kill.

The option of sitting around the hotel with a bunch of other equally frustrated businessmen, talking shop, held no appeal.

The option of sitting in his hotel room, paying $40.00 for an all-day adult movie pass, and spanking the monkey a few times, seemed too depressing; especially when the blue pills were the only thing that worked anymore to help his arousal.

So he'd opted for the sight-seeing rounds, which was making the $40.00 hotel charge seem more inviting at each passing moment.

A weathered sign, hanging askew from a rusted wrought iron pole, caught his attention.

The sign swung rapidly back and forth but the nearby trees, bushes, and grasses were nearly still. It was almost as if the sign was trying to grab his attention. (Which it did.)

Gordon stopped the car and looked at the sign.

RED'S GARAGE/VONNIE'S ANTIQUES HAGERSVILLE 7 MILES →

The sign itself looked almost new. Raised white lettering, on a red background, with no other distinguishable features. Nothing about the sign would make the average traveler take a second look.

Maybe it was boredom. Maybe it was watching too many traveling antique shows on TV. Whatever the reason, Gordon decided a seven mile trek to Hagersville would, if nothing else, get him off the mountain.

At the next intersection Gordon turned right towards Hagersville.

CHAPTER 2

Hagersville was a typical backwoods Alabama town. A few homes; a mom and pop store replete with worn and rusted cola drink signs; a hardware store that had a huge sale on "hog feed"; and a garage.

Red's Garage was easy to spot. A large cinder block building with three garage bay doors, two very old "SINCLAIR" gas pumps, and a car off to the right of the entranceway sitting on railway ties. The car seemed to have "almost" made it to the station, and then died right there, never to move again.

Attached to the garage was a newer brick addition. "VONNIE'S ANTIQUES" was clearly visible in a small sign in the window.

A few pieces of well-worn furniture sat in front of Vonnie's. Various pieces of pottery, jewelry, and suncatchers were displayed in the multi-paned windows.

The place looked well maintained and worth a looksee.

On entering Vonnie's, Gordon was immediately impressed by the quality of merchandise. This was not your typical gift shop full of postcards and "authentic" Alabama novelty items. (Made in China)

The "antiques" were actually just that, real wood, brass, tin, and crystal. Not replicas. Genuine furniture, dishware, household items, and artifacts from a multitude of bygone eras.

The store appeared to be more the collection of a well traveled antiquarian than a location for marketing such items.

Books, toys, glassware, paintings, carpets, and just about every other imaginable item one would dream about finding in an antiques store was displayed and ready for sale.

Gordon picked up a first edition "DAVID COPPERFIELD" and thumbed through the pages. The binding was like new. The pages crisp without age discoloration. A handwritten note, in flowing script, to "V," on the inside cover, was dated 1850.

On the wall was a painting of a beautiful voluptuous woman. Gordon was captivated by the raw sexuality depicted in the painting. The middle aged woman depicted was stunning. Even more stunning was the framed letter under the painting.

Addressed to "Vondra" and dated 1630, the signature was exciting in itself. Pieter Pauwel Rubens.

Gordon took a deep breath. A heretofore unknown Rubens original could be worth; who knows how much? And what was it doing here in a backwoods country antiques shop in Alabama?

CHAPTER 3

As Gordon marveled at the painting he heard a soft voice behind him.

"You like that woman," the voice said in an almost melodic tone.

Gordon was taken aback by the question. He was looking at a priceless Rubens, yet the voice was right. It wasn't the painting that attracted him. It was the woman.

To his surprise he felt something he hadn't felt naturally in years. His penis was stiffening.

Gordon attempted to turn to the woman but found that he was rooted to the spot. He could not take his eyes off the woman in the painting.

The voice behind him was closer. He could feel the heat from the woman she was so close. It excited him and his dick stiffened all the more.

"Pieter lost his wife you know," the voice said softly. "He thought he could not love again."

Gordon was confused. He had lost his wife eight years ago and this woman was dredging up sad memories he'd hoped to have stored away for good.

Gordon jumped as he felt the woman's arms come around his waist and he felt his belt being loosened.

"Pieter realized that he could not run away from his past," the voice sang in his ear as his pants dropped to the floor. "Pieter came to me for help and he found another young lover."

Gordon took a sharp intake of breath as the woman's hands slipped inside of his briefs and she began to stroke his now rockhard cock.

"Pieter married the girl," the voice continued. "Not that he had to, but it was what he wanted."

Gordon could feel the cum boiling in his balls. It had been such a long time and he hadn't ever even fantasized that such a thing could happen to him; a mystery woman jerking him off in the middle of a store.

"What is it that you want?" The mystery woman asked.

Right then and there all Gordon wanted to do was cum, and cum he did. With a loud groan he felt his sperm race up his shaft and burst from his cocktip. He felt his knees buckling but somehow the woman kept him on his feet.

Volley after volley of hot sticky sperm jetted from him. He had never felt such an orgasm in his life. He was sure that after it ended he would never be able to cum again. He would be absolutely and totally empty of all semen and sperm.

He looked down and saw the jets of sperm striking the mystery woman's hand but it appeared to his shocked and clouded mind that the sperm was absorbing into her hand, not pooling as he would have expected.

Eventually the spasming in his cock subsided and he felt the woman's hands release him, and her arms leave his sides.

With a start Gordon realized that he was standing in the middle of a store looking up at a picture of General Robert E. Lee. A quick check of his clothing, wallet, and keys, showed that everything was where it was supposed to be.

Gordon looked around quickly. The woman was not there. The store was simply a standard, run-of-the-mill, garden variety, gift shop.

Gordon suddenly felt embarassed. He still felt a semi-hardon and he wondered what he might have done from the time he entered the store until now.

Gordon quickly scanned the nearby shelves and spotted a rabbit's foot key ring hanging by itself. An old, rusted, cast-iron key hung from its end. Gordon grabbed it and quickly walked to the front of the store, to the cash register.

A kind-faced old woman stood behind the register and smiled at Gordon.

He placed the key ring on the counter and took out his wallet.

"How much?" He asked.

The old woman looked directly into Gordon's eyes and in a sing-song voice that sounded eerily familiar to him said, "Oh my. That looks like my husband's key ring. He's been gone for so many years now. No charge dearie. I'm sure he'd like you to have it."

Gordon didn't stay to argue. He quickly headed for his car.

If he'd turned around, or looked in his mirror, he'd have seen the woman from the Rubens painting, standing at the door, licking her hand like a popsicle.

Hell. If he'd slowed down when he got back to the main road, he'd have noted that the sign that made him go to Hagersville wasn't there anymore either.

A quick check of the rearview mirror as he turned off of Hagersville Road would have shown him another surprise. The road to Hagersville no longer existed.

Nope. Gordon Kincaid wanted to put distance between himself and Vonnie's Antiques.

Something just wasn't right.