The Long Hot Weekend Pt 03

Part three. All characters are over eighteen.

***

I woke up tangled in the arms of a naked stranger.

The girl was curled up against me. Her eyes were closed in sleep, dark hair failing across her face. The sheets lay in a tangle at the bottom of my bed and I had full view of her naked body; her petite breasts flush against my chest, the curve of her hips pressed against mine. One of her arms was flung over my stomach.

I looked around. The morning light shone through my closed blinds. I closed my eyes as an ugly and by now familiar guilt reared up in the pit of my stomach.

I'd done it again. I'd cheated and this time with a girl I didn't even know. And the sex... with Janice, sex had always been a communication; an offering to her. A gentle thing, where the two of us would meet in a place of love and respect. It may not have been the most passionate lovemaking but it- it was still good.

Last night though... I looked at the bruises dotting the girl's arms, her hips, where my fingers had cruelly dug in. I stared at the bite-marks and cum-stains on her small breasts, and I felt a hot shudder of shame at my actions.

The person who'd- who'd brutalised the girl last night hadn't been me-

But,

some part of me whispered,

it had been.

I'd never done anything like that before.

But you fantasised,

the whispers continued.

Even while you had your boring, vanilla sex-

I'd- I'd been forced. Something was happening to me, something strange and terrifying-

Something that was giving you what you always wanted.

I lay there, the woman pressed against me, while the hot shame twisted and warred with something else; something hotter and surer that swelled as the day grew brighter. It was still early and yet the sun seemed to burn through my closed blinds, laser-like rays pushing through cracks to alight on my floor, my bed and my naked flesh. I fancied I could see the morning radiance waft into the room in slow, creeping waves, until it oozed over me like a rising tide. I lay there, a naked girl curled against me, and felt my lust- and my cock- stir afresh.

I cannot tell you how long it took; it could have been minutes or hours. Time seemed to stop outside of that rising ocean of lust. The air became hazy once more as the heat prickled my skin, as a sheen of sweet sprung up over my naked body, as my cock rose until its length bumped up against the girl's hip.

The haze condensed in front of me until I could make her out once more; sylph-like, blazing and beautiful. The flame woman from my fever-dreams bent down, her face inches from mine, her lips twisted into a wicked smile. At the last moment her gaze shifted to the girl sleeping next to me-

I started as the shimmering woman dissolved into a thousand twinkling flames and a silent fit of giggles. I looked around me. Was I going mad? Was I hallucinating? Was this all a fever-dream? The girl stirred against me, her eyes fluttering open, her hand moving down to loosely curl around my burning cock. I felt her slim fingers wrap gently around my shaft. Her eyes opened slowly before widening with a sudden start as she realised where she was and what she had done last night. She flinched away from me-

A flicker of colourless flame behind her; a soft, throaty moan that only I could hear- and then the girl hesitated. She bit her lip, looking down at the throbbing cock in her hands, and I could see the sudden shift in her eyes, the creeping war between uncertainty and lustful hunger. She moaned and I fancied I could hear just a touch of despair in her voice, a sense of helplessness, of being swept away in a terrible tide out into a vast and boiling ocean.

I opened my mouth to speak but abruptly her internal struggles ceased. She pushed me onto my back and, winching with every movement, swung one of her slim legs over to straddle my hip. She paused, my erection pressing against her stomach, her little breasts proudly displayed on her chest, and closed her eyes as though steeling herself. With a hiss she raised her hips and slid down onto my cock. She panted, her eyes still closed, her stomach tensing. For all her obvious exhaustion and pain, her pussy was more than ready for me; already hot, already wet, already squeezing me in welcome as it massaged my length. As she began to move up and down, her pace speeding up bit by bit, her grunts of pain turned into long, breathy moans. Our pleasures rose in tandem until she was rolling her hips urgently against my length, her breasts shaking with each movement, her aches and bruises forgotten in the flames of lust.

Abruptly she shrieked her fingers digging into my chest, her cunt spasming around my cock. The sensations of her rippling pussy, the look of bliss on her face, the way her back arched- it pushed me over the edge and I shot blazing cum into her hot depths. She shrieked again and collapsed atop me, her body heaving.

I held her until she stopped panting and then a little longer as she cried into my chest like a baby. Eventually she pulled herself off my softening cock and managed to half-step, half-fall off the bed. She waddled over to the bedroom door like an old woman.

"Are you okay?" I managed to ask.

She turned to look at me and part of me was struck by her slender beauty. The other, darker part noticed the exhausted way she moved, the way her legs were bowed, the flush on her ivory features, and blazed with pride. "Can I go?"

I groaned, doing my best to supress the surge of lust that the question- hesitant, uncertain, like a child asking permission from a parent- prompted. "Sure. Want me to call you an Uber?"

She shook her head. "I'm okay. I'll take the Tube." It was only then that I noticed she had an American accent. "Where are my clothes?"

It took a few minutes to find her skirt (stained), her shirt (ripped) and an old shirt of mine to replace it (too big). Her bra had mysteriously vanished- probably thrown out the window in a fit of passion- and her panties were presumed to be still in the elevator. She shuffled over to the front door as I ushered her out. At the last minute she turned and stared into my eyes, and I sensed another decision being weighed.

Eventually she said in a soft, hoarse voice, "Can I have your phone number?"

I gave it over, uncertain if she wanted to arrange a later booty call or hand it to the police. It was only after she'd left- glancing back like she was afraid I say

No, sorry, changed my mind, you're now my sex slave, come back for round three that

I realised that my girlfriend- my loving girlfriend- was coming back in a few days and I really, really didn't want my philandering to be more than a one-off thing.

Janice. Shit. I looked around my living room, hunting for my phone. I found it soon enough in my pants, still lying in a puddle on my floor. Had she called me during the night? Had she called me a couple of times, wondering why I wasn't responding? Was she suspicious? Was she furious? Was-

Okay. She hadn't called me. She was probably still busy. I sighed and sat down.

The living room stunk of sex. The bedroom stunk of a

lot

of sex, and the sheets needed either several cycles of washing or, more likely, burning. I sighed and got to work.

Half an hour later the room stunk of slightly

less

sex. The sheets had been changed as had the cushion covers on the couch. I dumped her ripped up shirt into the bin and checked my watch. I had an hour before I was meant to meet Max.

I shuffled off into the shower, turning the water on high. I saw myself in the mirror and started. I looked less pale than last time at least, although dark circles were underneath my eyes. But the improvement to my overall health paled in comparison to my new markings. Long, red lines marked my back; a score of scratchings deep enough to be scabbed over in places. A half-dozen purple hickeys marked my chest and neck. I shivered, remembering the feel of her desperate half-kisses, half bites like an animal marking her kill while I-

I ducked underneath the water. Why was it so hot? I shouldn't have made it so hot. The scratches and the hickeys were... they were manageable. I'd just- tell Janice I was sick. That she couldn't sleep over at my place. Just for a couple of days-

Or you could pin her down onto the bed until she no longer cares about the hickeys.

I groaned and closed my eyes. Whatever was happening to me, it was like a sickness. It would fade eventually, like a cold or a fever, right? And if it didn't-

Janice moaned and thrashed as I dragged her to my bed. The haze gathered around her as I tore her clothing off. She stared up at me, confusion and fear giving way to a raw, animal lust. "Fuck me," her voice changed into a husky whisper I'd never heard from her before. "Fuck me and I promise I'll never be mean to you again-"

I groaned and turned off the water. I stepped out of the shower and looked down at my rising erection. Already? Seriously, already? It hadn't even been an hour and already my cock was ready for more. Even with my hormones in overdrive my body should have needed a little time to recover. I shouldn't have already felt my lust rising in a dim, ugly roar in the back of my mind, sullen embers gleaming red with renewed heat...

I wandered off to find some new clothes.

***

I was ten minutes late for brunch with Maxine. We had agreed to meet in a little café near Oxford Circus, down one of the many, many little side streets that branched off the northern end of Regents Street. It was bustling in a way that only a London Street on a hot Saturday morning could be, and as I entered I looked around for any signs of a gathering haze. Nothing; nothing but the usual gathering of tourists, families in for some weekend shopping, lone eaters and-

And-

Fuck. I swallowed as I did my best to smile.

Maxine- Max to pretty much everyone who knew her- was pretty. Dark-haired and shapely-figured, with a smattering of freckles on her nose that even in her late twenties gave the impression of childish playfulness. She wore a buttoned blue vest that was tight against her chest and revealed just a few tantalising centimetres of cleavage. It was simple, it was pretty and it makes me want to reach over and tear it off her body.

Instead I coughed and, doing my best to hide my erection, approached Max- lovely, sweet, trusting Max- who rose and embraced my in a hug-

Ugh. I shivered at the feel of her warm skin against mine, the glorious scent of perfume and fresh sweat, at the way her soft breasts pressed against my chest, at the way I had to awkwardly twist my hips where we were close. I sat across from her and mentally prepared herself. This was Maxine. I'd been hiding my crush on her since forever. This was all under control. I ordered my food, shocked to realise that I was starving- did I even finish my meal last night? I looked around again. There was just the faintest haze in the air; little more than a shimmer in the corner of my eye.

Fuck.

"-okay? You feel you like you're burning up."

I smiled and looked back into my cousin's eyes. "Fine. Still dealing with the sunstroke."

"Still?" She frowned at me. "That was the day before yesterday, wasn't it?"

"Just a touch feverish."

Max chuckled sympathetically. "Sorry to hear it."

"It's my own fault. I guess I won't be getting up to much this weekend."

"Shame. With Janice away, I thought you might actually do something you enjoy. How is she, anyway? How's her business trip?"

"She's good."

"Talk to her much?"

"She's busy." I looked around at the rest of the patrons. Girls here and there; some with their partners, some with their friends, some on their own. There were two friends sitting near the entrance, young and trendy looking, one with short hair and one wearing a business suit. Lovers? I wondered what it would be like, as the haze began to spread inwards from the corners of my vision, to have them both in my bed, both-

"Sam?" I snapped back to smile at Max. The food arrived and I tore into my panini. Once I'd finished I looked up to find my cousin staring at me. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," I repeated. She'd leaned forward and the movement had revealed a few more precious centimetres of cleavage.

"Is this about Janice?" she asked.

"No." I was staring- I know I was staring- at the soft line caused by where her breasts pressed together, but I couldn't find it in me to look away.

"I know you two have been having problems." I looked up to see her staring into my eyes- was there just the faintest hint of a blush? How hard would she blush when I made her strip for me-

"Trouble? No. We're good. She's just... she's just not really into public displays of affection."

"Okay," she said, that frown remaining. My shirt was too tight against my sweaty skin and I reached over to fiddle with it. She unconsciously mirrored my move, one hand coming up to fiddle with the button on her vest. I stared, too enraptured to even make a pretence at subtlety, as the button was undone. More creamy pale cleavage. When I managed to look up she quickly averted her eyes, her blush deepening.

"She's good," I repeated, even as the words were lost in the haze around us. I felt a shock of contact; her hand reaching across the table to touch mine.

She leaned in, her voice soft and husky. "I just want you to be happy." Her fingers caressed my own. "I want you to be with the right sort of woman." Her eyes bore into my own. "You're my favourite cousin, you know."

And then the woman of smokeless flame was behind her shoulder, bending down to whisper something into her ear-

I shot up. Maxine jolted back and I saw her eyes fixate on the bulge in my pants. I stepped away, nearly tripping over the chair. "I- I have to go."

***

I fled the café, stepping into the scorching haze of summer. Home. I'd get home and then- I took off in the direction of Oxford Circus station. I ran down the steps three at a time and shoved my way through the barriers. I hurried down escalators, straining to see through the fever-dream air.

The Victoria line sweltered in the summer. The thick, dreamlike consistency of the haze was accompanied by the stink of too many Londoners crammed into the heavy pale carriages. I found a cramped, tiny little corner of the carriage and closed in on myself, engaging in the long and honourable Tube tradition of pretending that the rest of the train- the rest of the world, in all honesty- didn't exist.

I cursed myself. I'd spent years hiding my crush on my older cousin. Years of avoiding staring at her for too long at family gatherings, years of talking to her about movies and TV shows and her friends, years of pretending that I wasn't jerking off to the thought of her doing lewd, twisted things with me. Years of wondering if she was going to figure it out and finally look at me like I deserved to be looked at- horrified and appalled and

disgusted

.

And this- this fucking horny fever dream woman, this strange, shimmering demon-girl- she had gone and fucking ruined things between us. For good.

I was meant to be seeing her that evening, wasn't I? Fuck it. I'd lost my job, I might possibly lose my girlfriend, I'll probably lose my cousin and

this fucking train was too hot.

I groaned and opened my eyes. The world has a roiling kaleidoscope of heat, dazzling, shifting, as though I was underneath an ocean of flame. The train stopped at Euston and there was the usual shuffling, awkward dance as the fat hordes of Londoners got off and on. I looked around for a seat but no luck; Saturday in this weather begged for an army of tourists to clog up the system. I breathed the stinking air, aware that there were only two stops until I could get out and walk to my apartment.

And then the girls got on.

They were a flock of classic East London girls; a half dozen of them, loud and brash. There wore singlets and crop tops and bright tight shirts with gaping fronts; all the better to show off their boobs, big tits stuffed into tiny push-up bras that seemed to invite,

demand

stares, that seemed to offer them up to me-

I shut my eyes. When I opened again I saw her; immaterial, ethereal, burning colourless flame, standing in the middle of the crowd with that wicked smile on her lips. I blinked and she was gone, dissolving into the thick, swarming haze.

It was important not to panic. I was in control. I'd just get off at the next stop...

And then the train lurched to a sudden halt and the crowd- at least the seasoned Londoners amongst them- groaned. I very, very quietly swore as a voice over the intercom calmly informed us of a red signal and a short delay. I looked around and....

...and the swarm of East London girls seemed to have, by some strange Brownian motion, surrounded me. None of them were looking in my direction and yet they hemmed me in. Were they glancing slyly at each other? Did they whisper and giggle?

And then I felt it. A hand, rubbing gently against my crotch. I gasped and one of the girls- a plump thing with bleached blonde hair- placed a finger over her lips as she peered at me over the shoulder of her friend. The hand rubbed gently against my crotch, an agonisingly slow motion that sent jolts of electricity from my groin every few seconds. I felt a soft, squishy pressure against my arm as another girl- dark-skinned with dreadlocks- pressed her tits against my arm. I looked at her face and saw the same grin as the woman of smokeless flame had worn; shameless and eager. Slim fingers gently gripped my hands and pressed it against something soft and warm- the ass of a girl nonchalantly facing away from me.

Just as I thought that I was about to come into my pants, the pressure vanished. I sagged but a moment later a second hand slid down to grasp at the tab of my zipper. The sound of my fly opening was deafening to my ears, and I glanced around, past the cat-eyed women that had me at my mercy, to see if anyone had noticed.

No-one glanced in my direction; no-one looked past the screen of smiling girls to see what was happening to me. My eyes alighted on a woman a little older than me- blonde and elegant, dressed in a pale blue shirt- who sat, her eyes glued to her phone next to her big, buff boyfriend. I shuddered as I realised that all she would need to do would be to look up to see through the gaps in the girls and spot what was happening.

And then I felt warm fingers reach past my underwear and find the searing-hot bar between my legs; find it and free it. I gasped at the sensations that filled my world; the heavy air of the carriage a shock to my superheated skin. The cool fingers slid and twisted around my throbbing, aching cock-head, nearly causing me to come there and then.

The first hand was joined by a second; two sets of fingers to stroke, to caress, to gather precum from my twitching tip. I felt the world dissolve around me into colourless flame, sharp friction and knowing feminine smiles. My head spun. I breathed in fire, I breathed in lust and all of it gathered, concentrated in my balls, churning as it prepared to boil over. All I could see were the sly faces of the woman around me; their faces and one other, shimmering and ethereal.

And then my head turn as though pulled by hidden strings and the haze parted to show me the blonde woman on the seat, staring down at my captured cock. She looked up to meet my eyes and I could see her shock dissolve into something else; amusement and a growing, eager hunger. She smiled, licking her lips as the fingers around my cock sped up-

And then it was all pouring out of me; the heat and the lust and the frustration, spurting out in pulses that crumpled my insides and filled my vision with darkness. When I came to the hands had withdrawn. Two of the girls were slowly and delicately licking their fingers clean. I stifled another groan as a third leant forward and- making sure to maintain eye contact with me- sucked on her friend's cum-coated little pinky.