The Most Erogenous Zone Part Eight of Nine
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The Most Erogenous Zone; Part Nine Of Nine free porn video
Over the next few weeks, we grew closer and closer, our sexual intimacy taking down the final barrier that had remained between us. It was a golden period, in a sense, with nothing to interrupt a steady stream of discovery, love, and happiness. With Corey still in jail, there was no dark cloud over Julia’s mind and we luxuriated in our ability to be together.
I fielded a call from an unknown number three days after the riverbank rescue – the kind of thing I rarely answer, but for some reason did – and it turned out to a man named Ray Killian, the father of Sara, the girl we’d saved, and her brother Mark.
He wanted to meet us, to thank us, although I assured him it was unnecessary, and I initially demurred, figuring it would be embarrassing; we’d only done what anyone would do, after all, given the right set of circumstances. Blind luck – and perhaps a higher power – had been on our side, the only reasons we’d succeeded.
I finally caved, acquiescing only when he explained that Sara insisted on meeting me again, to say thanks and to talk. We met them a couple of evenings later at a local restaurant, where they insisted on buying our dinner. It was embarrassing – her parent’s gratitude knew no bounds – but there was so much relief, happiness, and thankfulness in their hearts and minds that it was, overall, a good experience.
The highlight of the evening was the opportunity that Julia and I had to talk to Sara – a beautiful young lady now that she was not soaking wet and near death - alone, at her insistence; she had questions – how I’d been with her in the darkness, how we’d somehow, all of us working together, pulled her back from death’s door. Why she’d smelled lilacs, the only sensation she’d had for a time alone there in the dark.
I explained as best I could, swearing her to secrecy before opening up. I told her about my own death – or deaths - the lightning and my resulting fall, and my long recovery. I told her about the abilities I now had, for reasons unknown, and how I’d used them to reach out to her, even though I didn’t fully understand it myself.
I told her that I couldn’t do it, it was beyond my abilities until her brother helped, reaching out to her to call her back, and how much he loved her, how devastated he’d been. We also talked about how all the others, from Julia tirelessly perfoming CPR to the other guy that had done it first, and all the people that had pulled her out of the river or gone for help. She’d brought everyone together to save her, and it had been a very special experience… mostly because she’d survived!
I explained too about the lilacs, how they had been my mother’s favorite and that it was my opinion that she’d somehow helped both of us simply because it just wasn’t our time yet. We’d both found the scent of the lilacs reassuring somehow.
She seemed to accept it and when we hugged I felt only happiness, her terror and anguish now gone, her mind at peace. I received and returned a kiss on the cheek, and we made a promise to stay in touch. A real promise, I could sense it, not one of those ‘let’s do lunch’ kinds of promises. So as I said, overall a worthwhile evening, although it was still embarrassing to receive so much unbridled gratitude for something I’d been so very glad we’d been able to accomplish!
As the date of Corey’s release from jail drew closer, I could feel the darkness and trepidation moving again into Julia’s mind, the fear and anguish growing, and I hated it – and him, as a result. The D.A. himself called her to let her know when her ex got out, but assured her that he seemed contrite, understood the consequences if he again violated the restraining order, and that he’d gone home to the city where he lived, 300 miles away.
It wasn’t terribly reassuring, all in all, and we both stayed on guard – and armed – as much as we possibly could. I was less worried about me because I didn’t think he wanted anything to do with me and that he would do everything in his power to catch Julia alone, especially after the last fiasco outside her self-defense class.
I had no doubt that he’d try to take me too, if necessary, as her current lover and the reason he’d gouged the words ‘cunt’ and ‘whore’ into the paint of her car, but that I’d just be collateral damage; she was his obsession and his target, I had no illusions about that.
I couldn’t have been much more wrong, though, as it turned out. We heard nothing from him for several weeks and had no incidents of further vandalism or threats of any kind. I don’t think we let our guard down, but we did continue our relationship openly and intimately. I didn’t know – or much care – if we’d get married and Julia felt the same, but I think we both knew that we’d found a forever thing and, for now, were happy to simply bask in that knowledge and explore the relationship in every way possible.
We spent most of our nights together, either at my place or hers, only rarely missing one when she had to work early the next day or something. I still wasn’t back at work, the tree trimming business going into its slower winter season, and considerable doubt remaining about my ability to do the high work; absent that, I wasn’t too interested in the business any more.
I’d begun visiting nursing homes and rehab centers as a volunteer, using my abilities to help people, cheer them up, whatever I could do. Julia joked that I should become a sex therapist, that I could make a fortune when word got out, but I wasn’t ready to go to school for the years necessary to earn a degree to legally do that. Might be fun, though!
In any event, she was at my place. We’d discussed moving in together earlier in the evening, agreeing we should, then had a long wonderful evening of making love before we exhausted each other and fell asleep naked, in each other’s arms. We definitely had the randiness of a couple of horny teenagers, if not their endurance, and even now, fully aware of how I could play in her mind, she enjoyed it and had powerful orgasms!
Sometime in the wee hours, we were awakened suddenly and rudely when the door to the bedroom was kicked open and the overhead light flicked on; we were both instantly wide awake, I think, a massive flood of adrenaline pumped instantly into our bloodstreams.
Her ex-husband was framed in the doorwy; he was angry, dishevelled, and looked about the size of The Incredible Hulk – and about as crazy.
Julia screamed “Corey! Get out! Get the fuck out!”
He was clearly drunk – I could smell it as well as see it in his clumsy movements - but he had an ax. A fucking ax! He was not going to hear anything we said.
He was screaming back at her, his voice slurred, calling her a cunt, a whore, a fucking slut, a bitch, a filthy pig, saying he could smell the stink of sex on her, even as she and I both scrambled to get out of bed, the sheet and blanket tangling around us an enormous hindrance. My gun was in my nightstand, as was Julia’s on her side, but getting to it before the ax fell was not going to be easy.
He swung the ax at me, clearly seeing me as a threat to be dealt with so that he could take his time on her, but he didn’t allow for the ceiling and hit it, the ax glancing off sideways in a shower of plaster dust.
As he pulled it back to swing again, Julia, 105 pounds of naked fury, hurled herself at him, but he swatted her aside like a fly and I saw her bounce off the wall, infuriating me. I’d just managed to get free of the blanket when he swung, and although it again glanced off the ceiling it descended on me at a horrifying speed; instinctively, I threw up my arm, and the shaft of the ax, about six inches below the head, crashed down onto my left forearm.
I both heard and felt the bone break, the same place it had broken in my fall, but I didn’t feel any pain - yet – no doubt a result of the surge of adrenaline. It did serve to deflect the blade to the side, and it bounced harmlessly off the bed. One thing Julia had been right about; her ex was huge, and strong, and was out of his mind with alcoholic rage.
When he pulled it back for another try, Julia again hurled herself at him and this time got punched and knocked down. She changed tactics and scrambled for the nightstand, where her gun was stashed, the same thing I was going for on my side if I could avoid the ax long enough. Unencumbered by her, he swung the ax a third time, lunging forward as he did.
I threw up my broken arm again, knowing it probably wouldn’t be enough, but his lunge had brought him too close and he overreached, the blade of the ax biting deep into the wooden headboard, sticking fast before the shaft could hit me. In a panic now, with him right over me, I seized his arm with my right hand, trying to prevent him from freeing the ax.
When I grabbed him my first impression was of how huge and strong he was, but my second was of his mind, filled with rage, with hatred, with the desire to harm and rend and kill. My own anger, already roused, flared brightly and I felt him hesitate, the strange sensation of my anger hitting his mind.
The next thing I felt from him was his desire to hurt Julia, to punish her, to make her pay; there was a sick, perverted sexual arousal behind it and I knew he was hard, erect, and that he had planned to force her, to take her and hurt her and make her suffer in that way. With that knowledge, knowing he’d planned to perhaps kill me and then assault her, my anger and shock exploded into a wild rage as powerful as his.
In the next tiny fraction of a second, my mind gathered up all of the darkness and pain it had ever experienced, from my mind or from others. I pulled together the sadness and loneliness and sense of loss that I’d felt from Ella when she was mourning for me, the fear and darkness that hung over Julia when I was first able to read her, the primal, atavistic terror of monsters that I’d felt when I’d scooped up little Hayley as she’d seen the giant dog bearing down on her.
I rolled that in with the depression and loneliness and sense of coming death that I sometimes felt in older people, especially the sickly ones at the rehab center where I’d stayed, or now, at nursing homes I visited.
I wrapped it all with the panic and shock of Sara when she’d fallen in the river, the desperation as she was unable to fight the power of the water, vertigo and disorientation of it tumbling her downstream and over the falls, and the terror, the horror of being held down, pinned to the bottom as her oxygen was exhausted and her body forced her into that last desperate attempt to breathe, drowning her.
All of that came together in my mind in less than the blink of an eye, fueled by adrenaline, rage, and my fear for Julia, and without a moment's hesitation I pounded it all into him, smashed that horror and blackness into his brain, trying my best to destroy his very soul.
I felt the searing, explosive pain in my head again, like I had when I’d demanded Sara come back to us except stronger, and his body went rigid. The ax fell from his suddenly lifeless fingers and his head was thrown back, only the whites of his eyes showing as he stared blindly at the ceiling.
By then, Julia had recovered her handgun from the drawer and was aiming it at him, her hands almost unnaturally steady; my Amazon warrior, so incredibly impressive! I have no idea how someone so soft and loving can have such a steel core.
I quickly held up my hand to stop her from shooting him, since he seemed to be frozen and helpless, and just then he began to tremble as if having a seizure. He fell down, but was instantly back up, a terrified, unintelligible scream coming from his mouth as he turned to run, crashed into the dresser, went down again and again sprang to his feet.
He hit the doorframe as he tried to escape and went down again, but was up immediately, running down the hall, his screams reverberating. The next sound was the glass of the front storm door shattering as he went through it, still screaming in horror and pain.
Julia was right on his heels, her gun in a strong grip leading the way, oblivious to her nudity. I grabbed her robe and my own gun and followed, my broken left arm hanging limply at my side, later realizing that I was oblivious to my own nudity. At the front door there was broken glass everywhere, as well as obvious signs that he’d jimmied the lock on the inner door to gain access. We slipped on our shoes that we kept near the door and walked through the glass shards, Julia slipping into her short robe as we went.
Corey was down in the front yard, bleeding from a dozen or more cuts on his face and arms, curled into a fetal position, arms over his head, trembling and moaning. He’d wet his pants, a dark, wet stain spreading and the scent of his urine pervasive.
Julia looked at him, then at me, the side of her face red and swollen where he’d hit her. “Jesus. What did you do to him?”
“I… I think I showed him what true fear and pain feels like. Maybe what evil is.”
She looked at me strangely but then became concerned. “Jon, are you hurt?”
“Yeah. He broke my fucking arm again, the ax handle….”
She glanced down at my dangling arm, then back at my face. “Oh, god. Did he hit you? Your nose is bleeding.”
“No, I don’t think so. My head is splitting though; the push of the things into his head, like with Sara, I think it’s that. The nosebleed too, maybe.”
“Can you get yourself back into the house? I don’t think he’s a threat anymore, and I’m armed; go call the police and put something on before a crowd starts to gather.”
I looked down, surprised to see my nudity, and left to follow her orders. I managed to get a pair of shorts on one-handed after I’d called the police and swallowed a couple of Tylenol for my arm, which was now beginning to throb painfully, and my head.
I came back out just as a police cruiser pulled up, lights on but no siren. As the officers from that vehicle walked up to us, a second one arrived. I’d left my handgun in the house, and now Julia gave me hers to tuck into my waistband, her robe having no pockets, not wanting to walk around with it in her hand with cops there. Three of them stood around Corey, looking down at him, while the fourth went back to his cruiser to call an ambulance.
One of them nudged him with a toe. “This the guy that got called in as the attacker?” When we answered in the affirmative, he went on, “What happened to him?”
Julia looked at me before replying, “I don’t know. Nervous breakdown, maybe?”
The cop asked, “Why’s he all bloody?”
I nodded toward the front door, the empty frame of the storm door where the glass had been and glass shards everywhere telling the story. “He ran straight through the glass. Whatever happened to him, breakdown, psychotic break, whatever it was, it happened inside in the middle of the attack. He froze like he was having a seizure or something, then screamed and took off running.”
We watched as one cop cuffed him, struggling to pull his arms down and get them behind his back. I couldn’t help but notice that their eyes kept straying to Julia’s long bare legs below her very short robe, and her breasts, where her nipples, erect in the cool night air, stood out against the thin, silky material. Unbelievable!
One cop stayed with him after he was safely cuffed while the other three accompanied us into the house to see the damages - the “scene of the crime” as one cop, apparently fond of hackneyed phrases, called it. If they’d had any doubt, the ax still embedded in the headboard, the torn and gouged ceiling and the general mess and mayhem convinced them.
They shot numerous pictures inside and out, and after the ambulance had hauled Corey away, still whimpering and shaking, one pair stayed to take our statements while Julia held an ice bag on her cheek. By the time the final patrol car left my head was exploding, my arm was a screaming agony, and Julia drove me to the hospital.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Epilogue
They set my arm, but my headache progressed until it was a blinding, gnawing, living thing, and my nose would begin to bleed again each time they thought they had it stopped. The doctors thought it best to keep me overnight and load me up with painkillers and sedatives, which did little for the headache but did knock me out for a while so that I couldn’t feel it. Upon waking it was still there, although the nosebleeds quit by the following day.
They kept me a second night in order to keep me sedated, and by the next day the headache was mostly gone, although again I felt like a transparent shadow, a hollow man. During the worst of it, I’d been unable to read anyone, no sense at all of what others were feeling, and now, headache gone, it was again like the static I’d experienced after we’d gotten Sara breathing again, only much worse, a deafening noise.
Julia and I talked about it, realizing that the likely cause of the headaches, the nosebleeds, and the diminished abilities were probably a result of overdoing it, of taxing my ‘power’, such as it was, and over-extending my mind. She was worried that the next time might be crippling or fatal, and maybe she was right; I prayed that there wouldn’t be a “next time”, the two extreme stress experiences thus far having been very hard on me. Still, I knew that if I needed it I’d probably try to use it.
My full abilities – “talents”, as Julia referred to it – finally did return after a week or so, and we celebrated by spending a day in bed wearing each other out; testing my recovery, as Julia put it.
About this time, the D.A. called Julia to tell her that it didn’t appear that he would be pressing any charges against Corey, as doctors had deemed him unfit to stand trial. They said that he’d suffered a massive psychotic break of some sort and that it had left parts of his brain non-functional, appearing dark on the scans, while other parts were working overtime, synapses firing madly, out of control. His brainwaves were all over the place too, some occasionally flatlining before going into a rapid, erratic, high-frequency frenzy.
She asked if we could see him, and the D.A. reluctantly agreed, giving her the name and address of the facility they had moved him to. When we arrived the following day, his doctor met us and led us to his room, which was really a well-secured cell, explaining the diagnosis as we walked with words like “psychosis”, “psychotic break”, “fugue state”, and “paranoid schizophrenia”, all of which we only vaguely understood.
He said that Corey also displayed certain obsessive-compulsive behaviors, preparing us for what we’d see when he opened the panel on the viewing window. It was shocking, but clearly, they’d been right when they said, essentially, that the lights were on but nobody was home.
He sat on the floor with his back against the far wall, facing us. He was alternately moaning or keening in a high, childish voice, and he had his head back as though looking up as he flopped it back and forth, a little bit like I’d seen Ray Charles do on certain songs, although minus the soul and rhythm.
His pants were dry, unlike the last time we’d seen him, but they were also around his calves and he was masturbating furiously, his hand flying up and down his erect cock so fast it was almost a blur. His other hand gripped his balls, squeezing and fondling them as he jerked off.
Shocked, we looked at the doctor, but he shrugged. “This is how he is roughly eighteen or so hours of each day. The parts of his mind that control arousal are working overtime while the parts that control inpulsive behavior are non-functional. He’s become a compulsive masturbator, and he’s essentially priapic, losing his erection for only a minute or two after each ejaculation. We’ll undoubtedly have to restrain him from time to time or he’ll wear his penis raw.”
At a cry from Corey, we looked back in just in time to see him shoot two or three small spurts of semen onto the floor in front of him, joining the watery, milky puddle already there. He rocked and hummed for a minute or two as his penis slowly went flaccid, then started wanking again, his cock rapidly stiffening.
I looked at Julia. “Holy shit; what the hell is that all about?”
She shrugged, and with her hand in mine, I could feel a strange mixture of sadness and relief – sadness, no doubt, because she’d once loved him, back when he’d been a better man, but also relief in the knowledge that he’d likely never again be in a position to hurt her. We walked away silently even as we heard another cry of triumph, signalling yet another climax.
The doctor left us in the waiting room, and we walked out to the car, but then just sat and talked, still stunned by the changes in Corey.
“I did that to him with my mind? That’s horrifying!” In reality, it was and wasn’t. His condition was, but I had no qualms about it; after sensing what he’d had in mind for Julia I just couldn’t find it in me to regret crushing and destroying him. I’d never tell her about his sick, perverted, violent sense of arousal that I’d sensed, how he’d planned to attack and assault her, but I’d always know, and I’d always be okay with the fact that I’d stopped him by whatever means were necessary and prevented that.
She nodded. “It is, but if you hadn’t I would have shot him. I was already starting to squeeze the trigger when he froze up.”
“He might have been better off if you had.”
“Maybe, but then I’d have had to live with it the rest of my life, that I’d killed him.”
“Yeah. I am glad you don’t have that to deal with. Still, a fried brain and sitting around jerking off all day is no life.”
She shook her head. “No, but he was always big into masturbating so it figures.”
“It does?”
She nodded. “Yeah; you know that thing where people get some sort of erotic charge from you, unintentionally, where it leaves them all inexplicably aroused? Maybe you gave him a super-dose of that when you zapped him, that auto-arousal or whatever it is, and he’s just frantically trying to deal with that overwhelming, insane arousal.”
I thought about that; it made sense in a strange, and simplistic way, but sometimes the simple answers are the right ones.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In any event, we put the Corey chapter behind us and moved on with life. To me, he was a zucchini with two hands and a hard-on to amuse himself with, although I knew that Julia still harbored some sadness about his fate.
Although it had never been very important to either of us, we shocked ourselves by deciding to get married, realizing that any fear or hesitation we had about it paled alongside what we’d already been through!
It was a great time, one big party with lots of friends, old and new, including Sara and her family. Now a beautiful, vibrant sixteen-year-old, she was happy and gracious and so incredibly alive, and she honored me with a dance. I could feel our bond, something that would last forever, and I think she could too, and again I got a shy, chaste kiss, but this time as a friend rather than one of her many rescuers.
Julia went back to physical therapy full-time, her special patient – me – now fully recovered. She enjoys helping and healing people, and is very good at it, although I have to keep reminding her to let Eva and the others take care of all the handsome, virile, injured young studs that come in. She assures me it’s mostly all older folks, but then I remind her that she found me that way.
Me? I continue to do my volunteer work at nursing homes, rehab centers, and even the local hospice, talking to people, holding hands, trying to offer comfort, push a little peace and happiness or take away a little pain. It’s sad sometimes, but there are triumphs too, and (selfishly) it does make me feel good when I can help.
For cash, I followed Julia’s advice and trained to become a sex therapist; not the ten years of school-type, with a psychology degree or something, but rather a Tantric sex expert, guiding couples on retreats and offering little mind nudges and pushes here and there, selling myself as a “Holistic healer and Tantric sexual guidance counselor” in my literature.
Julia does the retreat weekends with me, and we sometimes demonstrate Tantric sex for others and sometimes help walk them through it step by step, guiding them, watching their sex lives blossom as I gently point their minds in the right direction. It’s become wildly popular, mostly by word of mouth as our client tell others of their amazing experiences, and is incredibly lucrative, the retreats booked and sold out months in advance; hey, if I can’t climb around in tall trees – and I can’t – I should at least get to enjoy lots of sexy fun and make good money, right?
Even my sense of gratitude and altruism have their limits.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author’s Note: Thanks so much to all who have read this tale - and to those that have taken time to drop a comment or a vote, a special thanks; it’s very kind of you.
It’s why we write, after all. It wouldn’t be much fun if nobody read or enjoyed it, but I know what a precious commodity time is, so I do appreciate you spending some of yours with me.
I pushed hard to get this story done and fully published for a reason; I’m leaving on a two-week vacation and wanted it done before I left. On that score, while I will see and read your comments on my phone, I apologize that I will be unable to reply for a while. Still, don’t doubt for a moment that I appreciate it, and will be looking forward to replying when I return.
I hope you’ve enjoyed the story – it was fun to write, although it did present some unexpected challenges. What kind of an idiot tries to write a fantasy wrapped in a fantasy as an erotic fantasy story? Crazy…
Lauryn
- 09.08.2022
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