Sparling Water in the Duc Pond

Always an early riser, Mary loved walking her gated community for the exercise and fresh air. The sights and sounds of noisy geese flying in formation overhead peppered with the other sights and sounds of nature, chipmunks and squirrels scrounging for food, along with hawks eying their kill and crows scavenging for anything dead to eat, were diversions that she always enjoyed seeing and watching, but not today. Today, on a mission, more focused on walking as fast as she could, her wonderment of nature was replaced by the anticipated sexual satisfaction of herself. If she could drive to where she needed to go, she would, but there was no place to park her car. If she could run to her destination, as she used to, when she was younger, she'd sprint at a World's record pace to get there in her hurry.

Such a long time ago, when she had that kind of energy to run as fast as a deer through the forest without falling, if only she was younger, she'd make the changes in her life then that would have surely given her a better life now. Knowing what she knows now, now that she's alone with no one in her life, her only regret, she would have married and had children. The only time her thoughts turn to remorse over not marrying was when she ran into her 28-year-old neighbor, Sam, who lived next door with his dog, Snowball, a cute, little, fluffy white Bichon Frise.

A quality young, good looking man, he'd be the type who'd interest her. Yet, realistically, with nearly forty years differences in their ages, every time she thought of Sam in that way, old enough to nearly be his grandmother, she felt ashamed, embarrassed, and ridiculous. However her feelings of shame, whenever she thought of Sam in that way, she felt sexually excited. Inspiring thoughts she thought were forgotten, she felt wickedly wild every time she saw him. Wishing she could make love to him, she felt like a sexual cougar. Whenever she thought of Sam in that way, she touched herself, fingering her nipples and dipping her finger in her warm wetness, while rubbing her bean, before feeling sad that their union would never be.

Separated in life by two, long, life altering generations, what would someone like him want with someone like her? She was too old and he was so young. Yet, had she met someone like him in her youth, without a doubt, he'd be the one she'd marry. Nonetheless, tempted enough by his good looks and her horniness, in the way Mrs. Robinson seduced Benjamin Braddock in the Graduate, wondering what he'd do, invite her in or turn her away, she fantasized about knocking at his back door naked, holding only a bottle of wine.

Preoccupied with other sexual thoughts, with her feelings more focused on what waited for her in the forest than on Sam, she no longer took her leisurely stroll through the woods to soothe her mind and heal her soul. Desperate to get there, today was uniquely different than all the other days that she took her morning constitutional. Normally going for a leisurely, albeit brisk walk around the landscaped paths that snaked through her community complex of lavish townhomes and that were beautified with lush greenery, her walk ended at the duck pond.

Having lived here for several years, she never knew they had a duck pond. Now, while thinking how different she wished her life was, she'd sit on a bench feeding the ducks bits of bread she brought with her in her pocket. Tired of being so alone and living alone, no doubt, her life would have been so much better with the inclusion and accompaniment of a man, a friend, a partner, and a lover all rolled into one. Only, resigned to live alone, after having given up her search for her white knight years ago, unable to ever find such a man, she was now too old, too tired, and too disinterested in sex to continue to look. Yet, today, forgetting about her loneliness and her sexual frustration, when thinking about Sam, with the knowledge of what was waiting for her at the end of her hike at the duck pond, she quickened her pace.

On a mission to rendezvous with her lover, Mary walked to the pond to have deeply probing, purely penetrating, and unadulterated wanton sex, the kind of sex that every woman wished they could have, especially with a phantom lover, one that she doesn't even know his name. If only her priest knew the sexual slut she had so quickly become, she'd be so embarrassed. Promising to say extra Hail Mary prayers and put a little more money in the collection plate, she struggled not to feel so damn guilty over something that felt so extraordinarily good.

"Oh, my God. I can't wait to make love to him. I can't wait for him to take me and to fuck me. I can't wait to feel him inside of me. He makes me feel so alive. He makes me feel so young and so wanted. I hope he's still there waiting for me," she said already glistening with as much perspiration from walking at a very fast pace, as she felt moist from her secreting vagina, when thinking about having sex with her mystery lover.

In the way that she now preferred, wanted, and needed to have sex without all the complications, there were no introductions and no names. Without having commitments, there were no broken promises, apologies, and excuses. With no reason to see one another again, unless she wanted to, and boy did she ever want to have sex with her lover again, she and he, whoever he was, were free to come and go as they pleased. Yet, even though she tried acting so cavalierly cosmopolitan about her shocking new sexual behavior and random albeit erotically exciting love affair, had he suddenly disappeared and if he wasn't there, when she arrived, she'd be inconsolably devastated.

Yet, never wanting him to leave, fortunately for her and for now, he stayed. Perhaps, he enjoyed her as much as she enjoyed him. Perhaps, he didn't care that she was an older, mature woman. She didn't know. He never said. Whenever she wanted to see him again, as if he could read her mind, he'd be waiting there for her, even if it was in the middle of the night, which is the time she went there last night and here she is going back again this morning.

A shameless whore, with nothing on her mind but him giving her an orgasm, suddenly feeling so much like the sexual slut that she has become, she didn't care. So much better than having sex at a swingers' function, not that she's a swinger, she isn't, or has ever had sex with a swinger, she hasn't, but she imagined it was. Yet, after forty years of not having sex, in the way that her sexual life has suddenly changed for the better, happening overnight, her feelings of sensuality and sexuality blossomed in a volcanic eruption. Running parallel to her sudden feelings of all things sexual, she imagined swingers at a swingers' party, the epitome of sensuality, sexuality, and forbidden debauchery, feeling the same way that she felt now, alive with passion and with sex. Not wanting to even know his name, not needing an introduction, she just wanted to feel the sexual excitement of the warm orgasm that he gave her throughout her entire body.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," she said louder, while walking faster. As if she was a yogi chanting a mantra, she was preoccupied and possessed with sex, sex, sex, sex, sex. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."

Dressed in just her sheer nightgown and fuzzy slippers, what she wore last night and the night before to see him, with her nipples already erect and her pussy moist from the sexual anticipation of him taking her, making love to her, and fucking her, if she could walk from her house to the pond naked without being seen by her neighbors, she would. Finally feeling free, sensually alive, and sexually invigorated, as if getting laid has given her an injection from the fountain of youth, in the way Jessica Tandy felt, when she played Alma Finley in Cocoon, this sudden revitalization of sexuality was her second chance at experiencing a fuller life. No longer looking at the duck pond, as just a small pool of water tucked away in the middle of a huge field, she's been having the best sex she ever had at the pond for a week. This pond, her fountain of youth, in the way that Ponce de Leon discovered his fountain of youth in Florida, six hundred years later and retired in Florida, Mary has discovered her own, private fountain of youth at the duck pond.

Never so much as getting a good look at her lover, she didn't know if he was a mere mortal man, a God, an Angel, a thing, or an Alien sent here from another universe and another planet for her personal use to make love to her and to pleasure her. Not really caring who he was, so long as he continued sexual pleasuring her, every time with him was better than the time before. So very happy, all that she knew was for the first time in four decades, she felt so sensual and sexual and she didn't care if some erotic extraterrestrial energy form ravished her, so long as he continued. If his far away planet is like that all the time, a sexual paradise of orgasmic pleasure, she'd rather be there than to stay here.

"Take me away. Take me with you. If you leave, don't go without me. Beam me up and take me aboard your starship, so long as you continue to give me wonderful orgasms with your beam of probing light."

Never having had sex in public, not caring who saw her naked body engulfed in sexual spasms, no longer shy about showing her ass, her tits, and/or her pussy, if her modesty and morals were her only price to pay for her sexual wickedness and pornographic pleasure, just the release of tension that she so needed, she'd have sex with this being every day, three times a day. As if aflame with sexual passion, never has she felt such delightful debauchery, when that glorious beam of warm light probes and enters her naked body, before flashing out of her every orifice. As if in a continual state of orgasmic pleasure, she imagined that pulling a long train in a swinger's gangbang wouldn't be as sexually fulfilling and orgasmicly satisfying, as it was making love to her alien lover. Always hoping for more, trusting him not to harm her or kill her, except for the first time, never has she felt fear from being so sexually used, emotionally abused, and physically violated. Giving herself of her own free will, her body is his to take and control. Her body, his personal vessel, is now just an empty shell without him.

"Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" Becoming more vocal as she neared the duck pond, she didn't care who heard her. "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!"

Not one to swear, as if possessed by her demonic lover, she quickly walked, while pounding her fist in her hand. As if walking to the steps that led up to the altar, where she'd be surely sacrificed, her only thought, dream, and desire was to have sex, deep, probing, all consuming sex that culminated in a mind altering, spine tingling, and toe curling orgasm, before she died. Never did she ever think that sex could be so mind controlling, life altering, and body consuming pleasurable.

"Make me cum. I want to cum. I need to cum. Take me. I'm yours," she said throwing her arms in the air, as she walked. "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!"

Whatever this thing is or whoever this being is, no longer in control of her senses, he or she has made her his bitch. His sexual slave to command, she'd walk a thousand miles to experience the full body pleasure that this Godly creature, Alien life form, angelic Angel, non-human entity, or demonic demon has given her. Without so much as him touching her or she touching him, never has she felt such sexual passion and pleasure, a sensual feeling that starts from within to glow out, as if she's a jack o'lantern filled with a halogen light at Halloween. Not even knowing if he was male, female, or sexless, just assuming that he was male, she didn't care what he was. As if he was already inside of her, injected by the sheer nuclear like energy of him, as if they were one, glowing with his power, she could feel him pulsating his orgasmic control inside of her. Even her dream man, Sam, never has she wanted anyone or anything, as she now wanted to have sex with her out of this world lover.

* * * * *

Watching the sun rise on a new day, the early morning, her favorite time of day to be out and about, Mary walked the wooded paths of her condo development each morning, just as dawn broke the horizon. Safe in this gated community, still dark, when she began her two mile hike, she loved the quiet solitude that the early morning hours afforded her. A Zen like luxury of meditation, a time when there was no one about, no joggers running their own, personal marathon races and no dogs pulling their owners on leashes to avoid, it was one of the few times of the day that she was alone with her thoughts.

The duck pond her only detour, two blue herons, three dozen ducks, and a gaggle of geese lived there, along with an annoying population of busy squirrels and squawking crows. Away from the main road, the pond was set back in the woods with its own private, little path and with a bench to sit on to contemplate nothing but nature. Because the path to the pond was so far away from the main road, few residents even knew the pond existed and never has she encountered anyone there to ruin her alone time, especially at that early morning hour. Only, typically seeing geese flying their V formation overhead, accustomed to seeing squirrels running helter-skelter through the grass, and hearing crows cawing their warnings of an intruder or a hawk, there was nothing that day but silence. It was so eerily quiet that the silence was startling obvious and frightening disconcerting. Weirdly and literally, the quiet before the storm, there were no blue herons, no geese, no deranged squirrels, no squawking crows, and no deadly hawks. As if there was a tropical depression looming and blowing in on the horizon, even the ducks knew enough to take shelter and were gone.

Never fearing this place before, with a feeling of foreboding now, while looking skyward for dark clouds, when her worse nightmare was waiting there before her down below in the duck pond, so preoccupied with looking up instead of down, she more worried of an impending storm than the doom that lurked down below at the bottom of the duck pond. Then, when she rounded the bend that led to the pond, she saw it and the sight of it startled her attention. In a circulating column of glowing green, a mesmerizing mist arose from the water with a hiss of vibrating energy. Appearing much like a chemistry experiment in a high school lab gone wrong, the closer she moved to the pond, the eerier the sight became. Yet, unable to look away, even though Mary's base instincts warned her to turn around and run to the safety of the main road, she didn't pay her natural animal instincts any mind. A big mistake that she later regretted before realizing how happy she was that she didn't listen to her inner voice and flee, as if hypnotized, she couldn't remove her stare from the glistening, glowing, and hissing, green mist.

She slowed her pace to get a better view from a safer distance but, instead of stopping, continuing forward, as if being pulled by a tow rope or by gravity, she felt compelled to walk closer to the water. Frozen in place by what she saw, the pond was aglow with shimmering water that continued from just below the surface to several feet above. A bit like looking into a lighted, albeit three dimensional swimming pool at night that created an optical illusion or a mirage, only the water was murkier and not as clear. Appearing as if spotlights had been placed beneath the surface of the water, the lights had a strobe-light effect on her, much in the way of a flashback, not unlike the time, when she had experimented with LSD in college, so long ago.

Allowing her imagination to run wild and discounting all that she thought, as soon as she thought it, in the way of a Stephen King supernatural or alien thriller, with the pond being big enough around and deep enough inside, she wondered if there was an Alien starship parked just below the surface of the water waiting and ready to take her and launch her into outer space. If only something as exciting would happen to spark her dull life, she'd welcome being taken by an alien being. Knowing there was something out there in the vast universe, other than her, not one to necessarily believe in God, the Devil, Angels, demons, the supernatural, and in aliens, barring any of the aforementioned, she figured there was a logical explanation for the water to rise and sparkle in such a way.

Perhaps, this was the resultant effect, after someone had dumped a hazardous chemical in the water. Perhaps, she should stand further back away, so as not to be sprayed and contaminated. Yet, on the pretense of a closer look to report the dumping incident, stepping closer to see, the watery light was not the kind of pulsing strobe light that she's accustomed to seeing at a nightclub. Rather, a mood altering beam that had an undulating glow with a probing kind of sexual rhythm to it that made her tingle and glisten all over, as if she was having a make out session with a man. Forsaking her caution of danger for sexual excitement, she felt compelled to step even closer.

Unable to resist the column of light, with the curiosity of a bookworm and the inquisition of a librarian, she couldn't stop staring. With interest driving her forward to identify the oddity, instead of fear telling her to flee, needing to know what it was that had her invaded her little community, she moved closer to the water and to the light. When she stepped too close, feeling as if she was being pulled forward by gravity from the cyclonic rotation of the uplifted water, already in a trance like state, she closed her eyes and lost all sense of herself, in the way that she had once been hypnotized by a hypnotist on stage. Putting her head back and stretching out her arms, as if an Native American Indian high on Peyote, she slowly moved to the beat of an imagined music that the misty light created in her head and that ran like a slow, burning fever through her body. No longer in control of her own body, she had given her will to the mist. Feeling the raw power of the energy, there was something sexually magical about the greenish mist of water that hovered in place over the pond and that made her suddenly so very horny.

Trebling with fear but destined by her curiosity and determined by her nature, her instinct screamed for her to get the heck out of there, but her legs and her feet were unable to obey her brain to leave. Now too late, she was doomed. With not another soul around at this early morning hour to help her should this thing turn out to be an Alien starship and shine a beam on her to take her away through the vast universe to another planet, a demonic demon to take her to Hell, or an Angel to fly her to Heaven, she remained so silently still. Still not knowing what it was to make the water sparkle and rise up so high at the duck pond, she no longer felt any real physical threat of danger, other than what she felt in her gut. With her not being a scientist to study the mist in the pond, but a retired librarian, she wasn't even sure what kind of help she even needed.

Suddenly, as if walking on water, somehow levitated over the pond, her feet were literally off the ground. Her toes, before the feeling ran through the rest of her body, were tingling. Already gone, following their instincts to fly away, even the birds and the squirrels knew enough to leave. When she saw that the birds and animals weren't there, she should have heeded that as her warning to flee. Feeling foolish that she didn't have the brain of a bird, already controlled by the mist, it was too late now for her to leave.

Realizing that she should be frightened to death, obviously because some force exerted enough control over her body to levitate her, she still wasn't afraid. As if a magic trick, as if evaporating from an acid bath, as if ten hands and 100 hundred fingers undressed her all at the same time, she watched her sneakers, her blouse, her pants, her bra, and her panty fade from view right before her eyes. She looked down at herself and watched as her clothes magically disappeared. Where did they go? Now naked, a prudish librarian, she wasn't embarrassed, but exhilarated with sexual excitement. Now so totally exposed, always so modest before, she didn't care, if it was one man or five men undressing her and stripping her naked. Now relinquishing control over her body, never experiencing those wicked thoughts as much before, she wanted sex.