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Stone Fox by Vulgar Argot (tags at bottom to avoid spoilerage)

As Linnea flicked through the channels on her TV, she was forced to
admit that she'd already cycled past the ones she was now looking at three
times. With a heavy sigh, she clicked the set off. Linnea didn't really
want to watch TV, but she'd hoped that it might take her mind off of the
general unease she couldn't seem to shake.

With the TV off, she became more aware of the sounds that had been at
the edges of her consciousness--the low, bass thrum of music, the chatter
of voices, the crackle of fire. It was all close. She realized that Woody
and Sharon must be having a party next doors.

Standing up and stretching, Linnea debated going over and joining the
festivities. She hadn't specifically been invited, but her neighbors had
told her repeatedly that she was welcome to come by any time. Since the
divorce, she'd become a bit of a recluse leading the specific invitations
to taper off.

"Come on, Lin. A party might be just the thing," she said out loud.
Sometimes, it felt good to hear a voice echoing off of the walls, even if
it was only her own. She struggled into a pair of jeans, chuckling at her
own vanity. They hadn't fit her since college. After a recent loss of
appetite, they only barely fit her now. Against the chill of an early
summer night, she pulled on a black cardigan over her tank top, smoothing
her long, blonde hair out of the neckline and letting it cascade down her
back.

Girded for social interaction, Linnea went out the back door of her
house. In the small copse of trees that separated her back yard from the
lake, she heard the cicadas rasping the same song they sang every night.
Following the sound of festivities, Linnea trod down the cobblestone path,
through the trees and down to the sand.

As she placed her foot on the sand, Linnea heard a voice call out in
patient exasperation, "Guys, you've got to stay on this side of the stone
wall. That's not our property over there."

She smiled partly in recognition at the voice and partly at the
consideration the speaker was showing for her property line. The speaker
was Woody and Sharon's son, Stephen. Doing a mental calculation, Linnea
decided that the part was probably for his impending high school
graduation. With a little start, she realized that Woody and Sharon
probably weren't involved in the party. The bonfire on the beach wasn't
their style. Nor was the raucous music. Linnea almost turned back at the
realization, but her eyes stayed riveted on the fire as she was drawn
forward, like a moth.

Climbing awkwardly up the stone wall, Linnea almost stumbled over
Stephen on the way down. Standing between her and fire, his features were
mostly in chiaroscuro, reflected fire light giving his features a somewhat
sinister cast. He looked up and extended a hand to help her balance on the
way down. Gladly, she leaned against his arm, using it to support herself
until she was on solid ground. Even then, his arm stayed draped loosely
around her waist.

"Hey," Stephen said by way of greeting. If he recognized Linnea, he
gave no sign. Reaching down for a cooler near his feet, he came back up
with a beer bottle and offered it to her. She took it wordlessly. Even at
this distance, the heat from the bonfire was intense, threatening to dry
her out.

As she drank, Linnea wrinkled her nose, "Stephen, I smell marijuana."

Stephen nodded, eyes scanning like a hawk. After a few seconds, he
seemed to find what he was looking for.

"Zeke," he called, waving someone else over. A gangly young man
detached from the crowd at the fire's periphery and loped over to them.
Stephen reached out his hand and Zeke put something in it. As Stephen
offered it to her after taking a drag, Linnea realized that he'd
misunderstood the point of her statement. For a moment, she opened her
mouth to correct the misapprehension, but decided against it. Her
objection to the smell had been pro forma.

Taking the joint seemed almost natural, even though Linnea hadn't done
so in almost a decade--not since right before her own college graduation.
Taking a deep draught of smoke into her lungs, Linnea realized that she had
made the decision to stay at the party and try to blend in. If Stephen
hadn't recognized her, the darkness and firelight should be enough to hide
any obvious signs that she was somewhat older than the average celebrant
for her to pass unnoticed.

The pleasant buzz of the smoke coursing through her body took the edge
off of Linnea's embarent at doing something so obviously
age-inappropriate as joining the party. Turning to hand the joint back to
Stephen, she realized that he'd moved off a little way and was now intent
on conversation with another boy his age. Not wanting to either waste the
joint or smoke it all herself, Linnea walked over to the edge of the circle
of firelight.

The sounds of the party had been going on since before dusk. It was
well past dark now and the party was in full swing. Many of the people
dancing and drinking around the fire were dressed for swimming. Shirtless
boys and girls in bikini tops writhed to the music, those closest to the
fire sweating freely and everAs Linnea flicked through the channels on her
TV, she was forced to admit that she'd already cycled past the ones she was
now looking at three times. With a heavy sigh, she clicked the set off.
Linnea didn't really want to watch TV, but she'd hoped that it might take
her mind off of the general unease she couldn't seem to shake.

With the TV off, she became more aware of the sounds that had been at
the edges of her consciousness--the low, bass thrum of music, the chatter
of voices, the crackle of fire. It was all close. She realized that Woody
and Sharon must be having a party next door.

Standing up and stretching, Linnea debated going over and joining the
festivities. She hadn't specifically been invited, but her neighbors had
told her repeatedly that she was welcome to come by any time. Since the
divorce, she'd become a bit of a recluse leading the specific invitations
to taper off.

"Come on, Lin. A party might be just the thing," she said out loud.
Sometimes, it felt good to hear a voice echoing off of the walls, even if
it was only her own. She struggled into a pair of jeans, chuckling at her
own vanity. They hadn't fit her since college. After a recent loss of
appetite, they only barely fit her now. Against the chill of an early
summer night, she pulled on a black cardigan over her tank top, smoothing
her long, blonde hair out of the neckline and letting it cascade down her
back.

Girded for social interaction, Linnea went out the back door of her
house. In the small copse of trees that separated her back yard from the
lake, she heard the cicadas rasping the same song they sang every night.
Following the sound of festivities, Linnea trod down the cobblestone path,
through the trees and down to the sand.

As she placed her foot on the sand, Linnea heard a voice call out in
patient exasperation, "Guys, you've got to stay on this side of the stone
wall. That's not our property over there."

She smiled partly in recognition at the voice and partly at the
consideration the speaker was showing for her property line. The speaker
was Woody and Sharon's son, Stephen. Doing a mental calculation, Linnea
decided that the part was probably for his impending high school
graduation. With a little start, she realized that Woody and Sharon
probably weren't involved in the party. The bonfire on the beach wasn't
their style. Nor was the raucous music. Linnea almost turned back at the
realization, but her eyes stayed riveted on the fire as she was drawn
forward, like a moth.

Climbing awkwardly up the stone wall, Linnea almost stumbled over
Stephen on the way down. Standing between her and fire, his features were
mostly in chiaroscuro, reflected fire light giving his features a somewhat
sinister cast. He looked up and extended a hand to help her balance on the
way down. Gladly, she leaned against his arm, using it to support herself
until she was on solid ground. Even then, his arm stayed draped loosely
around her waist.

"Hey," Stephen said by way of greeting. If he recognized Linnea, he
gave no sign. Reaching down for a cooler near his feet, he came back up
with a beer bottle and offered it to her. She took it wordlessly. Even at
this distance, the heat from the bonfire was intense, threatening to dry
her out.

As she drank, Linnea wrinkled her nose, "Stephen, I smell marijuana."

Stephen nodded, eyes scanning like a hawk. After a few seconds, he
seemed to find what he was looking for.

"Zeke," he called, waving someone else over. A gangly young man
detached from the crowd at the fire's periphery and loped over to them.
Stephen reached out his hand and Zeke put something in it. As Stephen
offered it to her after taking a drag, Linnea realized that he'd
misunderstood the point of her statement. For a moment, she opened her
mouth to correct the misapprehension, but decided against it. Her
objection to the smell had been pro forma.

Taking the joint seemed almost natural, even though Linnea hadn't done
so in almost a decade--not since right before her own college graduation.
Taking a deep draught of smoke into her lungs, Linnea realized that she had
made the decision to stay at the party and try to blend in. If Stephen
hadn't recognized her, the darkness and firelight should be enough to hide
any obvious signs that she was somewhat older than the average celebrant
for her to pass unnoticed.

The pleasant buzz of the smoke coursing through her body took the edge
off of Linnea's embarent at doing something so obviously
age-inappropriate as joining the party. Turning to hand the joint back to
Stephen, she realized that he'd moved off a little way and was now intent
on conversation with another boy his age. Not wanting to either waste the
joint or smoke it all herself, Linnea walked over to the edge of the circle
of firelight.

The sounds of the party had been going on since before dusk. It was
well past dark now and the party was in full swing. Many of the people
dancing and drinking around the fire were dressed for swimming. Shirtless
boys and girls in bikini tops writhed to the music, those closest to the
fire sweating freely and everyone drinking. Between the bass beat reaching
up through Linnea's feet to vibrate in her chest and the deep shadows cast
by the fire on bare flesh, the whole scene seemed darkly pagan enough that
Linnea shivered and glanced back up the hill to her own house for
reassurance that she was still in the heart of suburbia.

Realizing that she would soon be sweating herself if she didn't, Linnea
shed her sweater on a picnic table that seemed to have been pressed into
service for that purpose. Taking another sip from her beer, Linnea pressed
through the loose circle of bodies to get closer to the fire.

As she got closer, Linnea felt herself starting to relax. It was hard
not to sway her hips to the music as she weaved in and out between people.
She wasn't sure where she was headed, but she did know that she'd found
exactly what she needed to lift her malaise. Once the divorce was
finalized, she'd been feeling old and alone. Surrounded by young people,
masquerading as one of them immediately made her start to feel better.

Lifting her arm to protect her beer must have looked like an invitation
because an arm snaked around her waist, not so aggressively that she
couldn't have stepped away easily enough. Instead, Linnea raised her other
arm and swayed her hips more aggressively to the music.

It wasn't a song or even a style that she was familiar with. She
recognized it dimly as "trance" and found it easy enough to dance to.
After a minute of dancing, she leaned back against the boy holding her
waist. He towered more than a head over her and Linnea could feel how
defined his muscles were through the thin material of her shirt.

When she leaned back, her partner gripped her tighter, his hand sliding
up a little under the edge of her shirt, resting on the bare flesh of her
belly. Linnea felt a little bit light-headed at the realization that this
was the closest she'd let anyone but her husband hold her since before she
got married.

As the beat of the song changed, the boy behind her leaned down and
half-shouted over the music, "I know you don't go to our school. I would
recognize you. Are you a friend of Steve's?"

Linnea laughed. She'd passed as a high school student. She wanted to
turn and kiss the boy for the unintentional compliment he'd paid her.
Instead, she leaned her head back on his shoulder and said, "I'm a friend
of the family."

The boy nodded. He had sandy, blond hair and a strong chin, "I'm Doug."

Linnea missed a beat, but recovered quickly, "Lin." It wasn't a nickname
she used commonly, but "Linnea" was too immediately recognizable.

"Nice to meet you, Lin," said Doug. Gripping her hip, he turned
Linnea's body so that she faced him, his arms locking firmly in the small
of her back.

Linnea smiled up at him, "You too, Doug. Do you go to school with
Stephen?"

"Last year. I'm at Ball State this year. I just came down for the
party."

Linnea nodded against his bare chest. She was content for the moment to
be in Doug's strong arms and smell the fresh, honest sweat on his skin.
Unsure of where one song ended and the next started, she danced with him
until her legs began to feel weak.

Doug seemed to sense her flagging strength, "Do you want to take a
break, Lin?"

Linnea nodded gratefully. Keeping one arm around her waist, Doug led
her away from the fire, down to the waterline, and farther away from her
house. Down here, the beach was just a wide strip of sand between the
water and the trees. Her ex-husband Hal and Woody had gone in together on
trucks full of sand to create beach where previously the grass and trees
had come down to the waterline. Being "beachfront" property had made the
house much harder for her to get free and clear in the settlement and she'd
given up a lot more than she expected to get it.

Idly, she wondered where Hal would be tonight. He'd gone on an extended
vacation with his new girlfriend once the papers were signed. Some of what
she'd given up to get the house, Linnea had gotten back as a concession for
dotting the i's and crossing the t's in time for the two of them to begin
their vacation.

"Beer?" asked Doug. They'd walked out far enough that all Linnea could
hear of the party was a dull hum of conversation and a backbeat. There was
a cooler on the last picnic table before the beach ended stocked with
half-melted ice and bottles of Mexican beer.

Linnea nodded. She didn't want to get so drunk that she did something
scandalous, but another beer seemed safe enough. Looking down the beach,
she saw that plenty of couples were wandering back and forth between the
party and this table.

Doug pulled a couple of beers out of the ice water, popping their tops
off on the bottle opener attached to the side of the cooler, and handing
one to Linnea. Dancing had been thirsty work she realized as she drank
half of it in one swallow.

His arm still guiding her, Doug walked back down towards the waterfront
to the dock where Woody and Sharon kept their motorboat moored. Listening
to the planks creak and the water splash against the floats, Linnea looked
up at the gibbous moon, thinking it should really be full on a night like
tonight.

Having left her sweater behind, Linnea shivered a little at the breeze
coming off of the lake. Doug sat on top of one of the thick wooden
moorings, wrapping both arms around her from behind. For a few moments,
both of them seemed content to look out across the water at the lights of
downtown on the other side of the lake.

Then, Linnea saw a reflected light from somewhere on the beach. As her
eyes focused, she realized that it came from a couple who had progressed
between the necking and petting she'd seen up and down the beach. Hidden
from any perspective but the one Linnea had, they'd become increasingly
amorous. In the darkness, Linnea could see a girl lying on her back, her
legs wrapped around her partner's neck, ankles locked below his shoulder
blades. Her head was thrown back and her elbows had dug deep furrows in
the sand. Her lover's hands gripped her buttocks, pale in the moonlight,
pressing her into his face. Linnea was glad she couldn't hear them over
the music. She was already blushing at the sight, but unwilling to look
away.

Even in the semi-darkness, Linnea saw the divots the girl had dug in her
lover's back with her nails. Her hands on his back were urging him to
mount her, but there was a languor about his motions that suggested he was
content to take his time driving her into a frenzy.

Even over the music, Linnea could hear the mewling noises the girl was
making now. This seemed to urge her lover forward as he finally slid up on
top of her, one hand covering her mouth to muffle the sounds. Her back
arched as he entered her, showing some urgency now.

At the same time, Doug's hand rose from Linnea's belly, under her shirt
to lightly cup one of her breasts. She couldn't believe she'd managed to
momentarily forget him sitting there behind her, holding her. Letting out
a little gasp, she pulled away. Doug removed his arms from her.

Pulling away had been instinct. Linnea turned to face Doug, his face
etched with concern that he had stepped over some boundary. She knew that,
now that she'd gotten away, she should make her excuses and go home. But,
it had felt so good to be held by Doug. Besides, he didn't know who she
was and he was headed back to college soon.

"You startled me," she said, stepping back into the circle of his arms,
her head tilted back invitingly.

Linnea found herself trembling as Doug leaned down and kissed her. One
hand slid up her back to cradle her head. The other rested lightly on the
swell of her bottom. His tongue parted her lips, teasing and probing
against her own. Linnea gave a low, guttural moan in the back of her
throat as he did.

The kiss went on and on. When their lips parted, Linnea kissed his
chest and then the flat of his belly. Doug guided her back to her feet,
kissing her mouth again, his hands sliding down to cup her bottom like a
seat.

As if taking his cue from the boy on the beach, Doug lingered over
kissing Linnea, even as the need rose in her. Cradled and held as she was,
she had no leverage to stop the kisses and move on to other things.

Hal had served her with divorce papers more than six months ago, but it
had been a long time before that, more than a year since they had last
really made love. Linnea hadn't known how much she missed it until now.
Sliding one hand down from his chest, she stroked Doug's cock through his
jeans and was rewarded with a low, guttural moan.

Doug's hands slid to her waist. Linnea kissed him on the chest again.
As she looked up into his eyes, seeking permission to move forward, she saw
that a tear in the corner of his eye and streaks shining on his cheeks.

"Doug," she asked, concerned, "are you all right?"

"I'm sorry, Lin," he rasped. "I can't. I shouldn't have taken it this
far."

Linnea hugged him fiercely, partly to comfort him from whatever had
given him such a haunted look, partly out of a desire not to leg go of him
when it felt so good to be close, "It's all right," she whispered, cradling
his head and mostly meaning it, "We don't have to. What is it?"

"I have someone," he said, breathing a heavy sigh, "at college. I
swear. I didn't know she meant anything to me until just now. I thought we
were just..." his words trailed off.

Linnea nodded, "It's okay. You're a good man, Doug. I hope she sees
that."

Doug nodded, "Thank you, Mrs. Madison."

Linnea stiffened in his arms, her face going pale. Doug looked down at
her, concerned.

"I...I didn't think you recognized me." she managed to stammer.

Doug shook his head, "I didn't at first. You've let your hair grow
and...I don't know. You're different from how I remember you."

Linnea made to flee, but Doug held her firmly. She turned to him,
"Doug, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was..."

Doug leaned down and kissed her again, silencing her. Even now, Linnea
found herself melting into his arms.

When he broke the kiss, Doug stroked her hair. Linnea looked up,
questioning.

"Lin," he said, "even being able to kiss you like that has been the
fulfillment of a fantasy I had for a long time--longer than I even knew
what I was supposed to do after the kissing. If it weren't so important to
me that I not screw things up with Cathy...What's wrong?"

Linnea hadn't even realized that she was crying until he asked. She
laughed, wiping the tears away. "Nothing's the matter, Doug. As
unbelievably embarassing as what you just said is, it's quite possibly the
nicest thing anyone has ever told me."

Doug frowned, "I thought you knew. All the boys who grew up around here
had a crush on you."

Linnea shook her head. Doug leaned down, burying his hand in her hair,
kissing her again. It was still passionate, but there was no urgency
behind it.

"Let me walk you back to the party," said Doug. "I should be getting
some sleep before I head back to college tomorrow."

Linnea nodded. Doug took her hand and led her back to the picnic table
where her sweater was. He hugged her one last time before fading away into
the darkness.

Looking around, Linnea saw that the party was still going strong. It
seemed impossible to her that the world could have changed so little while
she was gone. She momentarily considered going back and dancing some more,
but the evening had accomplished its purpose. She picked up her sweater
and decided to head home.

As she approached the wall, Stephen emerged from the shadows, "Can I
help you get home, Mrs. Madison?"

"Stephen," she said, smiling at him, "I didn't think you recognized me."

Stephen climbed onto the wall, offering her a hand, "Of course I did.
We've been neighbors for years. I was a was a little surprised that you
joined the party. I thought you'd come to complain about the noise.

"I hope I didn't intrude," said Linnea as he helped her down the other
side of the wall.

Stephen shook his head, "Not at all. It was good to see you dancing and
having a good time."

They walked along the path a ways, Stephen releasing Linnea's waist and
offering her his arm for support. She took it, leaning against him.

"Did you have a good time with Doug?" he asked. Linnea hadn't thought
it was possible to blush any more tonight, but she did.

She also nodded, "We talked about a girl he's in love with at school."

Stephen nodded as well, "Cathy. I knew he was crazy about her, no
matter what he said."

They walked into the copse of trees behind her house, "He also told me
that all the boys who grew up around here had a crush on me. Is that true,
Stephen?"

Stephen didn't delay in nodding, "Of course. You were always a stone
fox, Mrs. Madison."

She laughed, "A stone fox. I like that."

At her back door, Linnea turned to face him, "Thank you for walking me
home, Stephen."

Stephen leaned down, drawing her to him. Linnea was startled, but
didn't protest as he kissed her. She didn't commit to the kiss either,
refusing to melt against his body.

When he took a breath, Linnea said, "Stephen." There was a hint of real
alarm in her voice. He didn't seem to be listening. He leaned down and
kissed her again. With one hand, Linnea clutched him to her. With the
other, she pounded ineffectually on his shoulder.

When he let her go again, Linnea said, "Stephen, I can't."

There was laughter in Stephen's eye, but something far more dangerous
too, "Why not?"

"You're too young," Linnea said, expressing the first thought in her
head. She knew how weak it sounded after what she'd already done tonight.

Stephen must have known, but he didn't take that approach, instead
saying, "That's not really a disadvantage in this sort of thing" as he
gently pushed her back against the wall, leaning down for another kiss.

Linnea placed her hand on his chest, "Stephen, how would I ever face
your parents?"

He kissed her forehead, "My father is ten years older than my mother. I
suspect they would understand."

"Stephen," Linnea said, sliding down the wall until she found the
doorknob and opened the door, "I really can't."

Slipping inside, she thought for a moment that she was safe, but Stephen
followed her in, closing the door behind him. For a moment, Linnea thought
that Stephen was no longer interested in getting her consent. He breath
caught in her chest."

"Please, Mrs. Madison," he said, his voice ragged. "Don't send me
away."

Linnea looked up into his eyes, "Stephen..."

Stephen straightened up, turning back towards the door, dejection
already clear in his posture.

She took his arm, turning him back towards her, "I think you should call
me Linnea."

Stephen drew her up fiercely into his arms, kissing her as her feet
dangled below. Linnea moaned, her hands pressed against his chest through
his t-shirt. She groaned in release.

Pinned against the wall in her back hallway, Linnea closed her eyes and
felt Stephen raining kisses on her neck and shoulders. There was no
patience to him. His hands were already stripping off her sweater and tank
top. Linnea reached back to undo her bra, but his hands were faster,
undoing the clasp and pulling away the fabric.

He lowered his head to one breast and then the other, kissing and
licking her nipples. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had
touched her with such ardor.

"Linnea," he gasped. "Oh God, Linnea. I can't tell you how long I've
wanted to do this."

She pressed his head to her, encouraging him to kiss and stroke her
breasts. Already, the cumulative effect of the evening was catching up to
her. Linnea's pace was quickening. Her body was aching for release.
Reaching down, she undid his belt and pants, reaching in to stroke his
cock.

Stephen caught her wrist, "If you keep doing that, I'm not going to get
through this."

Linnea smiled, "You're young. You'll recover." Before Stephen could
answer, she'd turned them around so that he was leaning against the wall
and was stripping off his pants and underpants. He tried to catch her hair
and stop her, but Linnea was determined to take him into her mouth. Once
she had, the fight went out of him. He lay one hand lightly on the back of
her head, urging her forward.

Linnea didn't need much urging. It had been a long time since she'd
wanted to do this for anyone. Licking him from the base of the shaft to
the base of the head, she cupped Stephen's balls in her hand. Her
technique came back to her quickly. It was a good thing too because it
didn't take long before he exploded into her mouth, a groan of pleasure and
release coming to his lips.

Linnea rose, wiping her lips with the back of her hand as she swallowed.
Before she could say anything, Stephen's powerful arms were around her,
lifting her.

"Stephen," Linnea said, startled and a little bit panicked. But, he
wasn't listening. He carried her up the hall into her bedroom, laying her
flat on her bed.

"God, Stephen," Linnea said, laughing.

"I want you, Linnea," he said earnestly. "I can't wait to be inside of
you." Even as he spoke, he was stripping off the rest of her clothes.
Stroking her breasts briefly with his hands again, he knelt on the floor.

Linnea had only a moment to brace herself as she felt Stephen kissing
the inside of her knee, then her thighs. Then, her tongue was inside of
her, alternately probing and teasing her clit.

That was all it took. Linnea felt her body begin to shake with waves of
pleasure. She'd been close to the edge for a long time. Stephen slid a
finger, then a second one inside of her. Linnea moaned and squirmed
against him.

"Oh, God...Stephen," she moaned, not laughing this time.

"You're going to get it now, Lin," he said. "If you'd let me have you
in the hallway, it could have been over quickly. Now, I'm going to take my
time with you."

Linnea did laugh then. Doing her best impression of a movie heroine,
she said, "Do your worst."

Stephen slid one finger out of her, teasing it against the entrance to
her ass.

Linnea's eyes widened, "Stephen," she squealed.

Stephen kissed her belly, "That's not even close to my worst." Linnea
shuddered, both at the tone of his voice and at the insistence of his
finger, sliding past her sphincter. Hal had never entered her like that.

For a long time, Linnea just lay there, trembling as he let his fingers
penetrate her from both sides while his tongue teased her clit. She was
coming as hard as she could ever remember coming, her hands tugging on
Stephen's hair, nails digging into his scalp. It was all she could do not
to hurt him.

When his fingers finally slid out of her, Linnea thought she was getting
a reprieve, but he lifted her hips, pulling her to his face. When his
tongue slid past her sphincter, she cried out in disbelief, then pleasure.
After a few seconds, she forced herself to relax and let the sensation wash
over her.

"Stephen," Linnea heard herself begging, "please fuck me. I need you
inside of me."

Stephen stood up enough to look into her eyes, "Soon enough, Linnea."

"God," she cried out, partly in exasperation, "I don't remember boys
your age having so much patience."

Stephen smiled down at her, "I waited years for this. What's another
hour or two?"

Linnea sat up on her elbows, alarmed, "Hours?"

Stephen grinned wickedly, realizing that she'd fallen for his joke.
Linnea grabbed the back of his head, kissing him ferociously, pulling him
down on top of her. She could feel his cock, hard against her leg.

"Fuck me," she begged again.

Stephen put his hand between her legs, stroking her again. Linnea,
already feeling weak with pleasure, spread her legs even wider, wrapping
them around his waist, trying to pull him inside of her.

Stephen's grin was positively wicked, "Who's the impatient one, Linnea?"

She growled at him, nails digging into his buttocks, "Fuck me."

Finally, Stephen complied, driving into her. Linnea cried out in
pleasure and triumph. As patient as Stephen had been a few minutes
earlier, he pounded into her now with urgency, as if he thought that he
could possess or destroy her by doing so.

Linnea was beyond words now. She made animal noises, grunting and
squealing as Stephen claimed her. He didn't seem to be much more
controlled. As hard as he pounded into her, she wanted more. Her hands
held his buttocks. Her hips rose to meet him.

As Stephen had warned her, the release the Linnea had given him had
dissipated much of his urgency. As ferocious as he was, it went on for a
long time. Both of them were drenched in sweat when Linnea looked up at
him, "What's going to happen if you don't get back to your party?"

Stephen laughed, slowing his pace, but still inside of her, "It's their
graduation too. Mike Woodhead promised to douse the fire before he left if
I hadn't. Not getting bored with this, are you?"

Linnea laughed, "God, no. But, I am going to be sore tomorrow."

Stephen reached down, stroking her rosebud again, "We could always try
another angle."

Linnea closed her eyes, her breathing shallow, "I've never done that
before."

"We don't have to..."

"No," she whispered. "I'd like to try."

Stephen nodded, sliding out of her. In spite of herself, Linnea
whimpered at the loss. Stephen lifter her, piling pillows below her hips
before turning her over.

"Take it slowly," she whispered.

Stephen laid on top of her, stretching out to retrieve a bottle of
Vitamin E oil she'd been using to soften a scar on her elbow from her side
table. He held it up, "Can I use this?"

"What for?" Linnea asked before his wicked grin told her exactly what is
was for. A few second later, she felt his oily finger probing its way
inside of her, slipping easily inside her bottom. Even the process of
oiling her up was almost more pleasure than Linnea thought she could bear.

"Oh, God," she said weakly.

A couple of minutes later, she felt the finger withdraw.

"Start gently," she begged.

Stephen kissed the back of her head, nodding against her. Then, Linnea
felt the head of his cock pressing against her, insistent. In spite of
herself, she tensed against him. With all of the oil, he slid in anyway.
Linnea gasped and moaned at the same time as he began to rock against her,
slowly moving in and out.

"Oh, God," she cried out, grabbing the headboard with both hands. "Oh,
Stephen."

Stephen was impatient again. Linnea thought she was going to have to
beg him to take it slower, but suddenly the pain and pressure began to
subside, leaving only pleasure.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the creak of
the bedsprings, the occasional moans and gasps of pleasure, and the distant
pounding of the bass. When Linnea felt Stephen growing larger inside of
her, she knew it wouldn't last much longer.

Leaning back, she nipped playfully at his earlobe, then whispered
throatily, "Come inside of me." That was all that it took. Stephen came
hard, filling her with hot seed, crying out as if it hurt almost as much as
it felt good.

Afterwards, they lay, locked together for as long as possible. When
Stephen finally shrunk out of her, she turned in his arms, nestling against
his damp chest, licking the sweat off of it. With a naughty chuckle, she
said, "Thank you, Stephen."

Stephen laughed, "Any time, Linnea."

When Stephen's breathing had slowed to sleep, Linnea wriggled out of his
arms, intent of getting in the shower before she fell asleep. She'd only
been under the hot jets a few minutes when he pulled back the shower
curtain and stepped in behind her.

Taking the soap from her, Stephen lathered her up, stroking her body
from neck to knee. As Linnea rinsed herself off, she realized with
disbelief that he was fully erect again behind her. Before she could
commend, his hand was between her legs, spreading her open. He entered her
without preamble.

Linnea closed her eyes and braced herself against the wall as he claimed
her again. It was over relatively quickly, but not before her body was
again trembling with the pleasure of it.

"God, Stephen," she said after he came. "You're going to kill me."

"I hope not," he said, chuckling.

Linnea turned to face him, snuggling up against his chest.

"Stephen," she said, eyes closed, "I don't know what's going to happen
after tonight..."

"In three weeks," he said, "I'm leaving for Europe before I go away to
college."

Linnea nodded, unable to decide whether she was more disappointed or
relieved.

"I want you to come with me," he added.

Linnea's eyes flew open in surprise, "I can't go to Europe with you."

"Work?" Stephen asked.

"No," admitted Linnea. She'd barely written anything since the divorce
started.

"What, then?" Stephen asked.

Linnea sighed, "Let's talk about it later."

Stephen nodded, leaning down to kiss her. By the look in his eyes,
Linnea knew that she hadn't heard the end of it.
Stone Fox by Vulgar Argot (MF, rom, reluc, oral, anal)

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Dance

Dance for me my brother
For I no longer can
The spirit is more than willing
What cannot is the man

For I have done my part
Fought in a land far away
The lad became a warrior
But a heavy price I did pay

Gave up both legs
But in wisdom I gained
This price is so heavy
Like a flood from a rain

When young I would dance
And my spirit would soar
Now confined to a wheelchair
I can dance no more

With the beat of the drum
And the pounding of my feet
That's the time when my spirit
And the eagle's would meet

For now I will listen
And dream of the time
That the feet now moving
Those feet were once mine.

So dance for me my brother
For the boy I had been
For when my body is gone
My spirit will dance once again.

2003 by Heathen

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