Compelled
Fall, cold and rainy, that’s all it ever was. Leaves blew off the grass and swirled around the ankles of a young man, raking them even as the wind took them away. Like herding cats, it was a challenge yet still, little by little, the leaves found their way into his lawn bag.
Behind him stood the stone markings of people passed. Shadows crossed the ground from their structure blocking the late October sun. Some were old, some were new, but all represented the end. The day was nearing its end as the shadows crept longer and the boy gathered what he’d reaped to throw it all away.
A rake in one hand and bags in the other, he hadn’t the strength to carry it all. Instead, the bags drug the ground behind him as he passed over those that once were. He read the names to keep him entertained as each was passed by. Smiths and Wilsons, Nelsons and Stevens, they lined a path on each side.
His journey lay past a gap separating the next row of granite reminders but a bag in his hand prevented him from crossing. Tugging and pulling, the bag began to tear and the young man gave up the effort.
Kneeling to see what caused this entrapment, a corner of a rock had his bag captured. Carefully grabbing the bottom, he worked to free it loose. His hands worked on the rock and intricate carvings came into view. Freedom allowed the bag to be moved and the rock came better into light.
A word etched on the rock sprang out in fading hue, ‘Compel”. Time and trampling had worn the stone and made it hard to decipher. The last words was construed but it could have been ‘My Soul’ and it was tooled flat on the bottom.
With that settled he took to task at the removal of earth built up over the thick solid aggregate. A portrait of sort was brought to the cold air as etchings formed a woman’s bust. Kneeling back upon his heels he looked over his excavation.
“Compel My Soul” he said out loud while looking at the crude female portrait. A lull of the wind made his words seem loud and the youth began a vivid daydream.
He saw the portrait come to life as the head turned towards him, catching him eye to eye. He swore he saw her blink and mimicked the act of a sigh. Leaves that were freed by the hole in his bag began another dance in the wind in front of his eyes. Slowly, they swirled in a circle around the lad and his new found friend. A perfect path traveled with the leaves in the wind.
The image rose up off the stone it once rested and her long mane of hair blew. The higher it rose the more she revealed as her cleavage came into view. Nothing clung to her bosom and her nipples perked up uncovered. The lad was entranced by the beauty before him and smiled at what he discovered.
Still she rose as her hips seeped out, revealing her curled downy hair. Her legs were next and they spilled like water into the open air. His mind was captured with the radiant beauty of the maiden before his stare. His fret and folly, hopes and dreams, were all forgotten in an instant, without the slightest care.
Her hands were stroking him on the cheek and her eyes bore deep in his soul. The urge struck him with great demand that he must become unclothed. She wanted to see what he could offer, not hinted, just urged, not told.
A fantasy in dreams was all it was and mist enveloped his body as it rest. Soft stroking of the wind turned to silky breasts upon his unveiled chest. His hands removed what remained of his garments, with little or no commotion. Her eyes, her eyes, they mesmerized, and lust was the only emotion.
His countenance faltered as his passion surged. Touch it he thought, feel it a little, give in to the passion she urged. His manhood was hard, his testicles too, and blood was coursing in his veins. He couldn’t resist it; it had to be touch, and moaned as lust took his reins.
That’s it, he thought, she wanted him to, as he started his lustful clap. Just to show that she approved her mist sat in his lap. By looking down he had the image of his sex pounding with fist through her sex. He reveled in his own sensations with eyes lusting deeply after him. She seemed to pant upon his lap and thrust her bosom into him. He would swear that he felt hard nipples even if it was leaves on a whim.
She helped him with his fantasy, tonguing in the air. Posing like a sexy vixen, waiting on his love, she batted her eyelids and brought her hands to a neck that wasn’t there. Running them both from her shoulders to bosom, she paused to spend extra time, caressing the mist that outlined her breasts, surreal yet sublime. Leaving one in its place the other roamed further, founding the place of secret desire then commenced to fondle it hither.
That was it! He was teetering on edge; she knew it too and urged him over. With unspoken direction, he pointed his manhood at a spot upon the clover. A blast like no other erupted from his loins, splashing on the cold rigid grass. Floating her head, she moved it down, and blocked the seed from its path. As another stream shot through the air and passed her parted lips, it too struck upon the grass.
His beliefs were in jeopardy as the laws of physics were questioned. The love he had cast upon the cold hard ground gelled then melted in rapid secretion. The mystic nymph was elated and twirled over it in the air; clasping her hands together she sunk, following his seed to wherever.
Still in his dream, he felt her presence, reveling in his fertility. But soon it dwindled and turned to want, pressing on his mental stability. Up she came, her aura lit, while dusk turned to night, giving her a glowing sheen, she urged him for more of his fertility.
How it was possible, he wasn’t sure, but his essence had made her more… pure. Details that wasn’t there before, he could plainly see and adore. Without the time to ponder such thoughts, he was spellbound to do her will and she was there to make sure he did. Just as before, she would urge him on to give her more and more.
The wind or the mist, it didn’t matter which, caressed him to excitement. Again he was urged, to do better than last, and she pressed her need for excrement. Losing hesitation understanding this fact, he started again performing the act.
Pleased at his willingness to please her more, she caressed between the places she adored. It could have been the wind gusting between them, but he was sure it was her when he felt it on his rectum. Not giving it any more consideration, he aimed to satisfy her quiet desperation. His breath shortened, his pulse raced, heat steamed from his body up into cold space.
She hovered in front of the ground she had chosen, spreading her legs and sex lips wide open. Her hand on a breast and another on her slit, she taunted the milk that he was frantically making. If he had to give it he was giving it all, churned from the lusting of an ethereal body.
It wasn’t too long, and lurching took over. His body tensed, his eyes wide open, and he aimed again for the spot she had chosen on clover. True on the mark he gave her his seed, so she could spend time in sweet revelry. Not once, not twice, but three times it be, when all of the seed spilled on the ground to see.
Again, the unthinkable as it all gelled together, then sunk in the ground to someplace wherever. With happiness and glee, she twirled once more, chasing the essence she had waited for. The shrill of the thrill he felt cold as ice as the mist sampled and supped on the results of this tryst.
But just as before, she craved even more and drew upon her power, the essence of man would bring her to life, if but only for just an hour! Back to the giver, his supply, her demand, it would take her higher just as planned. She wanted… no, needed his essence to sire.
An urge, a nudge, a wordless demand, he was hers to control, and more, to command. The call was so strong, it jolted him cold. He had to perform just once more. He wanted to make her completely real so he could have her to fondle and feel.
Looking up to the heavens, trying to whisper a prayer, he stared into the deep dark night. Demanding his attention he was forced to forget the prayer he would have whispered to prevent his regret. She had gained strength, her abilities progressed, but the more she gained the more he regressed.
More prodding was needed, the youth lay beat, and the mystical mist forced passion, lust, and heat. A twitch and a stir, a fire flickered inside. Somehow his sex had started to rise. Coaxing and urging she brought him about. His loins grew tense, stood firm, even more, stood stout.
Her heat kept him warm as the night kept him cold; he took to his task, his lust to hold. A stroke, and then another. More and more, faster and faster, he headed for the cliff of blissful disaster. Swirling all over, she did her best, kissing and licking, with a chilling caress.
It was what was needed and he felt his pot boil, his passion rose again from his lust and his toil. He aimed again, his final chance, and at chosen ground he made his stance. With blurry eyes and shaky knees, he hit the spot of her revelries.
Milking it for all it was worth, he slumped while he watched his seed put forth. It wasn’t much but it would do. She shrieked in his head as she circled and flew. Her demand was well met even if it was all she could get.
The man sat silent upon his heel while the mist swirled after her essence meal. His head too heavy for his neck to hold, it rested on his chest in the frosty rigid cold. A final breath, a quiet sigh, his time had gone and the hour was nigh.
It worked like a charm, her body was whole. She dug herself out and sucked down his soul. She clothed in his clothes, it wasn’t the best, and left the young man with his chin on his chest.
Words were spoken, the first in a year, “How wonderful it is! Halloween is here!”
Happy Halloween Everyone
-Gentalman