In the warm afternoon of mid-June, Julia’s face was bright and glowing in all her loveliness and uncontainable joy. Already, her face was sore because it would not stop grinning. She was the centerpiece of the day, the bride. She had never felt so beautiful and glorious, since in her childhood fantasies. Her new dress had never been worn. It was sown together by Mrs. Thelma Schumacher. It was a floor-length wedding gown with a jewel neck lace tulle. Her brown hair was in an updo with messy waves and a few locks down. She was crowned with a sparkling, silvery star hairpiece.
Nevertheless, to her, the greatest accessory was herself. She clung to the arm of her new husband, Buzz Meadows. A dashing young man—today in a black tuxedo—was in the farming trade in Williston Falls. Not a farmer himself but a silo salesman.
During the ceremony and the reception, she silently repeated her new name, the name she had gladly taken from him. Her new name rolled off the tongue beautifully.
Mrs. Buzz Meadows
Mrs. Buzz Meadows
Mrs. Buzz Meadows
The wedding ceremony was quaint, earthy, as was her life, attended by family and close friends in the Louise Hollis Community Center. The small reception included finger foods, such as Mrs. Schumacher’s egg salad half-sandwiches, Mrs. LeAnne Schantz’s lemon-drop cookies, and Mrs. Ruth Latzke’s pink cupcakes. From the head table, Julia looked at them. They sat with their husbands at the fold-out tables, and she basked in the notion that she was now a married woman like them, as she had wished and waited. Just without the experience or the frustration that each of them had with their husbands. Mr. Schantz had once told her to enjoy the fleeting days when she had found nothing to complain about, because the reasons were soon to be apparent. Hearing that, Mrs. Schantz had grunted and turned away, muttering, “Took me about ten minutes.” “See?” Mr. Schantz had said as she stormed off. Julia ignored their back-and-forth of hardened married life.
Today, her wedding day, was the beginning that she had wanted for all of her life. She was entering a fresh new life of womanhood and wifehood, motherhood in the future too. She was no little girl to be swished away for lack of a gold wedding band on the fourth finger of her left hand. That new band gave her significance. It gave her a say among the women of Williston Falls.
At the end of the wedding reception as Julia was about to depart with her husband, she tossed her bouquet of white peonies over her head, which was caught by Jane, her youngest sister of ten years. Their mother, Mrs. Margaret Busch, snatched away the bouquet from Jane’s hands, firmly threatening her, albeit nicely, that she would not be married for many, many years to come and to erase any notion of such to avoid a growing desire to wear a white dress and view immature boys as good suitors.
Julia and Buzz were showered with rice as they rushed from the community center and to the idling ’59 Cadillac Coupe de Ville, fire engine red. Buzz had wanted to chug away on a grain harvester straight from Mr. Hamilton’s field, but Julia outright vetoed the idea, deciding that she would be laughed at for the rest of her life, and the wedding would be remembered solely for the tractor, not her. “It would ruin my day,” she told Buzz. He objected, but she just fingered his blond hair. She had enacted the womanly ways innate inside of her.
Out of the community center, Julia noticed the setting sun and the lengthened shadows.
Mr. Achenbach held open the car’s door for them, like a valet. He was the lone car dealer in Williston Falls, and he offered the car to them for a cheap rent rate. She hoped to get the car for free for such a day as this. It could be considered a gift. The Achenbachs gave candle holders instead. Buzz ran around the car and slid in behind the large steering wheel. Julia sat on the long bench seat, waving through the passenger window and smiling at the crowd of people whooping and hollering and cheering and chanting. Among all the excited faces, Julia noticed Mrs. Latzke. She was looking elsewhere and had that same wanton smirk and dark eyes as she did on the day she revealed her story to the women about the Silhouette. Julia paused her wave in mid-motion when Mrs. Latzke turned back to the bride. There was a large shadow looming. It was the great oak tree, but a darker presence was among the upper branches. Mrs. Latzke knew. Julia realized the presence. Coming to, Julia began to wave again. The faces were bright and shining, excited and overjoyed for the new Mr. and Mrs. Meadows.
Buzz sped away from the curb, the tin cans tied to the bumper clanked and bonked all down the road.
“We’re married, Julia! Finally, we’re married!” Buzz shouted and hit the steering wheel with his hand in his excitement.
“It’s so wonderful to think. We’ve waited for so long,” she said.
“I want to get you in the sack right now.” Buzz flung his arm around Julia’s neck and pulled her down the bench seat close to him. He kissed her forehead. She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the sun-warmed black tuxedo and the woodsy and rugged smell of Stetson cologne.
“You ready for me? Ready for a good time, wifey?” Buzz asked.
“Of course,” Julia answered. She was excited that it finally would be Buzz, the man she loved. She would be able to please him and offer herself wholly to him, to let him do as he pleased, for his sake and hers. She had waited for this opportunity to please. They had remained separate throughout their relationship, but she could now say simply, “Take me.”
Buzz parked the car at the Harrow House, a small motel a few miles outside of town.
“Just go inside the room. I will get us checked in and then bring in our suitcases,” Buzz said. He kissed his new wife and gave her the single door key that had a pink ribbon tied to it.
She glanced at Buzz. He looked handsome in his dark tuxedo and trimmed hair. Her eyes remained on him because he was hers. Finally, she turned away when the lobby door closed.
Julia unlocked Room No. 23. The room was small, with one bed in the center and an armchair by the window. On the night stand was a bottle of sparkling grape juice with a card next to it.
She started toward the bottle and the card but felt an awkwardness. The door closed behind her.
“Buzz, honey?” she asked.
There was no reply. The room became eerie. It became darker.
“Buzz?” she whispered. “Please don’t tease me.”
She went back to peek through the heavy, dark curtain. No one was there. She yanked it fully open both for peace of mind and to shoo out any fears.
Then Julia heard water start to gush from the faucet in the bathroom. She knew Buzz could not be in here, because he was at the front office.
“Jared?” she said. “You shouldn’t be here. This is Buzz’s and my time to be alone.”
Buzz’s best man liked to play pranks, so it might not be passed him to set up a gag.
Julia tiptoed to the bathroom door, still nervous and expecting Jared to jump out to scare her. She peeked around the corner but saw no one. Just the faucet fully open.
“Hello? Anyone there?” Her voice cracked in worry.
She stepped onto the cold linoleum bathroom flooring and stopped. A long, dark shadow, not made from blocked light but a blacker form. It stretched from the tips of her toes along the floor, over the side of the bathtub, rising up the tiled wall, onto the ceiling.
She gasped and covered her mouth. “You’re here.”
She had been with him twice more after the night that LeAnne introduced them. Those had been fascinating nights of craving. She had been left crazed and ravaged, salivating and breathing heavily. Most of all, starved for more.
Julia reached forward and touched the wall. “Hi,” she said in a deep, cool tone. She dragged her hand down the tile. Then she touched the length. Her hand immediately gripped the Silhouette’s warm, dark cock—the cock she craved. Then she thought of her husband and the dick—his dick—that she expected to love. She wondered how different the two would be. Buzz would come to the room anytime and give her a new experience of love. Then the cock in her hand jolted. She looked at it. A craving boiled up inside of her from head to toes. Still, knowing her husband would appear momentarily, she decided one kiss on the Silhouette would be fine. And that would be all. She set one knee on the edge of the tub and knelt forward. Placing her lips on the hard darkness, she recalled the most recent time the Silhouette had visited her.
She had stayed with her sister and her family, as they arranged the final details to the wedding and weeded out any last-minute hiccups.
Margaret and her family lived in a lovely two-story house in the country. It was set on a hill near a red, covered bridge over a racing stream.
When Margaret saw Julia step from the taxi, she raced from the front door of her farmhouse, and Julia dropped her suitcase at her feet. The sisters squealed and hugged each other tightly. It had been a year since they had been together. In the last fifteen years, Margaret got married and moved and soon was a mother. Those three milestones in her life kept her busy, focused on her home and family and away from Julia.
“I am so glad you’re here. We have a lot to do,” Margaret told Julia, embracing her again as if making sure she was real.
Early the next day, the pair worked on the wedding planning. Through the morning, the sky was darkened by gray storm clouds. By afternoon, rain showers had raised the creek waters flowing under the covered bridge. Late that evening, a heavy rainstorm pounded on the roof and beat against the windows.
As they worked, Margaret’s husband, Harold, had gone to bed, and her two young sons were asleep too. Finally, wee into the morning, Margaret told Julia she was tired and her day would be starting in just a few hours when Harold and her sons woke up. So, Julia settled in the guest room. It was on the second floor, directly above Margaret and Harold’s bedroom.
The family’s dark tabby cat, named Coco, accompanied her upstairs since, as Margaret had said, Julia was staying in the cat’s room. She was pleased with the room’s quaintness. A narrow bed, a floor lamp with a dome shade that cast a soft, orange light onto the ceiling and around the room, a dark oak armoire, and a wooden wicker rocking chair.
Julia relaxed in the rocker, moving gently, listening to the rain pellets hit the window. Coco leaped into Julia’s lap and nestled in deep. She stroked the affectionate kitty. Julia was glad to be away from Mr. and Mrs. Schantz. The couple were tired of her being there too. The Schantz’s house was small for three people. And, after the Silhouette’s visit that one stormy night, LeAnne had become aloof and rancorous. She would often glare at Julia from across the living room. Now, Julia could be herself at Margaret’s. Even her nephews were glad for her visit.
Julia dreamed of Buzz and the wedding day. The ornate invitations. Her dress that she had dreamed of. The bouquet of flowers. She longed for the moment when she would walk down the aisle with all eyes on her. Most of all, the eyes of Buzz Meadows, her husband. She could not stop smiling at the idea of soon becoming Mrs. Buzz Meadows.
Suddenly Coco’s ear perked and her claws came out. Julia felt the sharp grip but didn’t see or hear anything. The fur on Coco’s back stood and her claws pricked through Julia’s nightgown, scratching her thighs.
“Ow! Coco, calm down. Nothing’s wrong.” She coddled her like a baby, and spoke to her like a mother. “You are too sensitive. Everything is fine. I’m here.”
Coco eased. She resettled in Julia’s lap. Then there was a rattle in the hallway. Julia heard it, as did Coco. This time, Coco gave a soft purr. The rattle sounded again. Coco lightly leaped off of Julia’s lap toward the door. The sound turned into a stampede, growing louder until there was a rapid knock on the guestroom door.
Without waiting for Julia, Margaret scrambled inside. She was breathing heavily and her face was pale with worry.
“Are you all right?” she stammered.
“I’m fine. Did you think something’s wrong?” Julia asked.
“There was a loud ka-bang. Then the overhead light in my bedroom wobbled like it was about to fall. I figured you must have collapsed or dropped something very heavy. I was scared for you.”
Julia looked around. “Nothing fell in here. I know I didn’t fall. What about the boys?”
“Their room is next to ours, downstairs. The sound came from this floor. And,” she added, “I peeked in their room before I came.”
“We can check the other room up here.” Julia stood. Margaret led them.
“I know I heard something fall,” Margaret reassured herself. “Even Harold heard it, but he wasn’t concerned. Told me to ignore it. Typical male.”
The two sisters left Julia’s room. They treaded lightly down the short hall and came to the other second-floor bedroom. Margaret stepped in first. She turned on the lamp. Inside was the sewing room. The room was messy. Rolls of fabric of all colors and designs on multiple tables.
Margaret scanned the room as she tiptoed in. She passed the two sewing machines and stepped by the three torso mannequins draped in unfinished blouses.
Looking in, Julia was surprised.
“This room is packed! You’re becoming like Grandma.” Julia laughed.
Margaret’s arched back and tensed shoulders eased, as Julia ruined her stealthy entry to the room.
“It’s a hobby with benefits—for me, my sons and Harold,” Margaret said, still looking for what may have fallen. Soon she maneuvered out of the room with long strides to avoid the supplies.
“Find anything?” Julia asked.
“No,” she answered. She was still confused by it all. “There had to have been something. The thud was too loud to be nothing.” Her tense shoulders eased further and she patted her chest. “I give up. I am at a loss. This is so confusing.”
“Maybe the storm.”
“Then there’ll be a hole in the house. Maybe the roof.” Margaret turned off the lamp and closed the door. “And you’re telling me that you heard nothing?”
“I didn’t, but Coco did. She heard it or knew whatever was there. She even scratched me.”
“I would say it was a dream if Harold hadn’t heard it too.”
Julia reassured her. “Go back to bed, lay down. You need to be up soon, so get a little rest.”
“If I can.” Margaret descended the stairs, running her hand along the banister. “Yeah, if I can.”
“Just know I am fine. And nothing has fallen up here—that we can find. So there’s no problem.” Julia smiled at her frazzled sister. Margaret left Julia.
Once alone again, she thought about rocking in the chair but thought that may have been the sound that woke Margaret, although it would be a stretch. It was not loud enough.
Coco strode between Julia’s feet, rubbing against her. “You want more attention, don’t you?” She picked up the kitty and sat on the edge of the bed. She stroked from her back to the tip of her tail. “How’s that, baby? Uh huh, yeah, you like it.”
Coco meowed and purred.
Julia was enjoying the quiet when she heard a rumble downstairs and then thudding feet coming up the stairs. Margaret didn’t knock but barged in.
“If you don’t stop causing a racket, you’re going to upset Harold and wake the boys,” she declared.
Coco jumped off Julia and onto the floor.
“Me?”
“Yes, you!” Margaret’s hand still gripped the bedroom door. “Who else is up here?”
“Only me, but I am not doing anything except petting Coco here—or wherever she went. I stayed out of the rocking chair too in case it was making any noise.”
“Seriously, Julia, don’t. Harold is hard to handle when he’s mad.”
“I will lay down and go to sleep.” She splatted onto the bed, arms wide, and her hair shaping into an explosion behind her head. She rolled to her side and rested her head on her hand, looking at her older sister.
“See that!” Margaret growled, like the times Julia had annoyed her when they were younger. “I knew you were doing it. Don’t tease. Just go to sleep. We’ll work on the wedding tomorrow. I’ll even take you out to lunch.”
“Aw! Sounds fun,” Julia said.
“If I hear anything else though,” Margaret warned with her eyes, “we won’t go.”
“I won’t make any noise, but it was not me! If you hear anything again, don’t come up here.” Julia stared at Margaret.
Margaret released her tight grip on the door. “Be good.”
As she closed the door, Julia said, “You sound just like Mom did. Threats and all.”
Through the door, Julia heard, “Shut up!”
Alone in the room, Julia, as best as she could, kept her giggling under wraps by shoving her face in the pillow when feeling the impending outburst of laughter. She had not been given such a motherly scolding for a long time. She felt like a little girl. Years ago, she and Margaret would flush into uncontrollable giggles when their parents would get upset at either her or Margaret or both of them. So she and Margaret would run away to the bedroom to laugh into their pillows.
Julia’s giggling urges eased when Coco nestled next to her chest, quietly begging for attention. She pet the cat and soon had calmed her giggles.
Before getting too tired, Julia crawled off the bed to turn out the light. In the dark, only Coco’s eyes were visible, darting from right to left. Julia shed her night coat and laid down next to the kitty. With a quick yip, Coco darted away.
“Where’d you go? I didn’t mean to lay on you,” Julia apologized. She patted the bed in the dark. Then she yipped when her hand felt what she thought, at first, was to be Coco. She touched the cat again, running her hand along the now lean, warm body. It had no fur, unlike Coco’s thick coat. And it pulsated with her touch.
“Coco?” she muttered.
Julia pulled her hand away from the hairless body when the kitty brushed against her nose and cheek. Realizing Coco was at her face and her hand was touching something else, she leaped out of bed and brushed off her hand, as if it was smeared with filth. Julia left Coco on the bed and went back to the chair. Her body was jittery and her skin crawled up her back.
“What was that?” she asked.
She could only imagine a dead body under the blankets. Absurd, but the thought terrorized her enough that she left the room and rushed downstairs. She knocked on Margaret’s bedroom door.
“Margie, Margie!” She kept her voice at a controlled hiss.
Margaret opened the door, anger covering her face. “What now?”
“I’m scared. Something’s in the bed upstairs.”
Margaret put her hands on her hips. “You’re really exasperating me. I want to sleep. I’m tired of your games.”
“This isn’t a game. I’m scared, really scared.” She wrapped her arms around her sister and pressed her head against her chest. “Something’s in the bed. Do your kids play jokes like this?”
“Like what? They don’t keep dead bodies upstairs. Me and you’ve looked up there already. You said there was nothing. So what could it be?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to find out. Can I sleep down here—on the couch, maybe?” Julia asked.
“I guess, but me and Harold, we’ll be up soon.”
“That’s all right. When it’s light out, I will go upstairs again.”
“Scared of the dark. Ha! Well, there’s a blanket.” Margaret pointed to a crocheted afghan, folded on the arm of the couch.
“The one Mom crocheted. Thank you.” Julia shed her worry and hugged her sister, harder. She sat on the couch.
“You really are scared. You almost squeezed the breath out of me.”
“I know.” She pulled the orange and brown striped afghan over her, snuggling under it.
“Sweet dreams, Jules,” Margaret said.
“Mmhmm.” Julia mumbled a nonsense response as she had already settled in. Her eyes were closed and her lips were set in a smooching smile.
Margaret went back to bed, glancing once over her shoulder toward her frightened little sister, who was about to be a man’s wife. “Got some growing up to do, Jules. Growing up fast.”
That moment, there was a sudden boom of thunder that seemed to be low and directly overhead. Margaret shuttered and covered her head as a reaction. Julia didn’t move.
Later, Julia awoke to Margaret shaking her shoulder. Harold was walking by to the kitchen. “Go upstairs if you want to sleep in.”
Julia nodded silently and then zombie-walked up the staircase. She plopped down on the bed in the guestroom. She was settling in when she felt a warmth come against her, along her back.
“Morning, Coco,” she mumbled groggily.
She opened her eyes and saw Coco across the room on the rocking chair. Yet she still felt the warmth on her back.
She patted the bed behind her and felt nothing. Not even the weird thing that she felt last night. It was just the blanket and mattress. Drowsiness overtook her mind, putting her back to sleep.
Julia woke up to a dark day and a pounding storm. Like the day before, the rainfall had forced the stream to rise even higher, and the rainwater created new streams flowing out from the drain spouts.
“Not had a rainstorm like this in a while. I know the farmers won’t like it. Too much rain isn’t good for the fields. Can ruin crops,” Harold said, as he stood in front of a large window. The rain was streaming down the glass like rivers.
“Can we go outside?” one of Margaret’s sons asked.
“Yeah, we’re bored. Let’s get in the creek,” her other son said.
Margaret spun toward them. “Don’t you dare!”
Julia began to play along with the boys’ begging. “Yeah, Margie, we’re bored. When are we going to go somewhere?”
“Julia,” Margaret said, dryly with a motherly angry stare.
Harold butted in. “Take them somewhere.”
“You got some money?” Margaret retorted.
“Just take ‘em out.” He flapped his hand in the air. “It’ll do us all some good.”
“It’ll do me some good? I’m the chauffeur,” Margaret said. She stormed around the house quietly frustrated. Soon, she had gathered the boys and her sister and had left with them for town.
Hours later, they returned, tired but in happier moods. Margaret and Julia worked on the wedding, organizing the ceremony and pigeonholing different roles to make the day run smoothly. Finally, the sky was dark and Margaret was exhausted.
“I’m off to bed. Think you can handle sleeping upstairs tonight? If you can’t, then don’t. I don’t want to be bothered tonight.”
“You have become the perfect mother,” Julia answered. “Straight to the point and mean.”
“I have to keep this place in order. You’ll learn what kids can do to a house if they aren’t corralled.”
Julia exhaled her expectancy. “I hope I will have to corral kids. A house full of them! Little Meadows.”
Margaret stared at her sarcastically. “You say that now. I’ll ask again before you have a second child. Corralling is for cowboys and mothers. And mothers have the tougher job. Cows don’t talk back to cowboys.”
Julia laughed.
“I’ll sleep upstairs,” Julia said. “I won’t wake you up, jump around or anything. I’m tired too.”
Julia stepped into the guestroom and plopped on the bed. She remembered doing so many things to bother her sister while growing up. Lay still, she silently scolded herself.
She changed into her nightgown and settled into the center of the bed. Laying on her back, she listened to the rain hit the window. A constant arrhythmic beating that calmed her. Her eyes became heavy. It was hard to keep them open. She relaxed, arms spread wide, hanging over the edges of the narrow bed. Her feet dangled over the end of the bed.
Her bare feet became very warm. She could feel her pulse at her ankles. She scrunched her toes and wiggled her legs, thinking she needed to urge circulation, before long her feet would start to prickle. As she twitched, her foot hit a body.
She sat up, moving to the edge of the bed. “Coco, I’m so sorry! Where are you? Let me hold you, kitty. I feel so bad.”
She looked over the bed but didn’t see Coco. Then she felt a greater presence. It towered above her, far overhead. It was dark and lecherous. Despite the fear it conjured within her, Julia felt a consuming heat that spread from her feet through the rest of her body.
“Is it you?” she whispered.
There was no audible response, but a presence became obvious to Julia. The aura of the Silhouette was phenomenal. Her eyes couldn’t see for certain the Silhouette, except for a unsubstantiated haze, like a sheer curtain hanging in a faraway window. The rest of her, though, knew for certain.
It made her feel giddy, like a young girl in a candy store. She wanted to giggle and touch the Silhouette. Her deep urge was not aggressive or pushy. Rather, that childish silliness welled up inside. Her feet tapped the floor and butt bobbed happily on the bed, making the mattress springs chirp. Her hands went between her knees as a restraint from all of these urges.
The darkness rejuvenated joy in her. There was a vivified excitement of what could happen, of what might happen, of what was certain to happen.
All these surges and elation were answer enough for her.
“You’ve been away from me,” Julia whispered. “I’ve missed you.”
She reached to the hazy presence before her, as a means of welcoming a wished-for lover. And she jumped when she touched it. Hard, long, frighteningly large. She realized this is what she felt last night that scared her so much.
The length was more prominent now than she recalled from the previous instances when she was with the Silhouette. The first time couldn’t count because it had been a heady internship that blended together into one night of fear, lust, and Mrs. Schantz. In the following encounters, Julia was able to bask fully in the pleasures of the Silhouette and its power.
The Silhouette moved forward over her, pushing her back onto the bed. Its essence covered her warmly, softly, gliding through her opened legs, coursing between her buttocks, flowing under her nightgown, slithering between the fabric and Julia’s flesh, over her bare shoulders, and around her long neck. It felt like laying on the beach and letting the waves rush from her toes to the head and hair.
She eased her breathing, raising her chest slowly and moaning lightly as her chest lowered. The goodness of the Silhouette made Julia’s face brighten. She was refreshed.
“Don’t wait,” she urged the ghost, and then waited for a moment. Feeling nothing more, she begged, “Please, because I have denied myself for months.”
Her fingers felt between her legs to find the Silhouette and guide it toward her soft, wet pussy.
“Do you like knowing that I resisted from pleasure on your behalf?” she asked.
She could not feel the great dick between her legs. Confused but already heated, she sat up. A pressure on her chest pushed her flat and pinned her to the mattress. A heavy weight of dark haze rested on her chest. The Silhouette. And its dark cock touched her virgin mouth. Instinctively, she tightened her lips. But the pressure became hard against her, so she resisted further, like a child rejecting a spoonful of terrible medicine.
She waved her hands through the hanging haze until she finally wrapped her hands around a darkness that she could see. So, the hulking mass pushed even harder against her mouth. She tried to pull it away from her, while twisting her head from one side to the other. In her struggle she exhaled through her nostrils, sounding like an angry animal. “No! I’m not ready.”
She knew the Silhouette wanted to be in her mouth. But she had never allowed it before, to put such an impure “thing” in her mouth. Mrs. Schumacher came to mind. Her story about waking that one morning with dried gunk on her face and a salty taste lingering in her mouth. Julia, instead, wanted the Silhouette in her pussy, where it had always gone, where she had always loved it. This new experience was strange. It was unbecoming. She hated to think of the words to describe what she would be doing: “Sucking dick.” The phrase alone was whorish to her. It made her cringe.
She fought and twisted against the Silhouette and its pressuring demands. However, the Silhouette was so strong and, even more, it was determined. The giddy little girl, the lady excited to see her secret lover, was gone. Alone she had struggled against becoming, as Mrs. Schantz had said, “one of those women, if they actually could be called ‘women.’”
For an instant, she again wanted to bet the Silhouette to let her be, and simply the mere thought of speaking loosened her lips. The Silhouette took advantage.
The great length entered her mouth. It filled her, making her anxious and her body tense. A sense of claustrophobia threw her mind in confusion. The cock was too big. It rubbed against the top of her mouth, over her tongue, pushed into her cheek, pressed into the back of her throat. She gagged. Then it pulled back slightly. Her struggle eased. The fear subsided briefly. Then the Silhouette entered gently into her mouth deeper, and slowly rocked forward and back. As it became gentle, fears subsided. Oddly she found it was similar to oversized lollipops that she loved as a little girl without the sweetness. She had used her allowance to purchase these pops each week. Strawberry flavored, grape, even the bitter sweetness of black licorice.
She let her tongue touch the cock, explore it. Soon, she was sucking. The tip of her tongue circled the crown of the great cock, then she let the underside of the dick rub her tongue. Doing that, the cock jolted for a second. It kept rocking. She bobbed her head off the pillow to meet the rhythm. Feeling at ease, her hands released their grip on the blanket and explored what she could not exactly see. Her hands found the shaft of the Silhouette and then the low-hanging balls, wobbling in anti-rhythm to the thrusts. She cupped them with her hands and immediately felt a second jolt. The rocking increased, getting faster. Moments later, a great spew of warmth filled her mouth, ballooning her cheeks. It was a thick juice. And there was so much that it drained out of her mouth, even as she swallowed a lot of it.
She realized her mouth was not filled, except for the cum. The cock was gone. The weight on her chest wasn’t there. The claustrophobia had subsided.
She spit out the cum and wiped her mouth on the blanket.
“Are you still here?” she asked quietly. “Don’t leave me this soon. I need you some more.”
But there was no answer, no presence in the room. Only Coco leaped onto her lap.
“Come back soon. I don’t have long before …”
The cat meowed.
“I wasn’t talking to you, kitty,” she said.
Julia pet Coco’s back sadly, depressed, and lonely. She thought of Buzz.
Leaning on the edge of the bathtub in her white bridal gown, she kissed the large dick. It was just as she remembered. Her single kiss turned into multiple kisses and then she put it in her mouth. The warmed and girth was wonderful. She sucked in as much as possible. With a push from the Silhouette, a bit of drool escaped from the corners of her mouth.
Suddenly, the motel room’s door opened.
“Julia!” Buzz was excitedly sing-songed her name. “Are you naked?”
She pulled back, despite some resistance.
“I’ll see you soon but not today,” she whispered.
“Julia,” Buzz called again.
“Right here, my new husband.” She appeared with a smile.
He rushed to her, wrapping her arms around him.
“I’ve waited for this for so, so long,” Buzz said. “Now let’s get busy!”
He shimmied humorously across the room. If it wasn’t for love, he would have ruined the mood.
“You must be excited too,” he said. “Got a little something at the corner of her mouth.”
She wiped it away, embarrassed. It was because of her other lover.
“I’ve been getting ready for you, my love. My only love.”
A dark shadow whisked across the room and the curtain at the window swooshed.
Buzz and Julia fell to the hard mattress in their new life as man and wife.
