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Elysse free porn video
Elysse
By Ellie Dauber © 2015
Here's a gargoyle that kept me up about an hour last night insisting that
I write it.
* * * * *
Morgan sat on a curved oaken bench at the edge of the parkway surrounding
the harbor. It was late afternoon, and, far to the west, the sun was
hovering just above the water's edge. "Seems like _everything's_ getting
ready to die," he said sourly and flicked his half-finished cigarette
into the water.
"When did you first notice?" asked a very female voice.
He turned and looked up at her. "Where'd you come from?" She was
beautiful, five foot four of delightful feminine curves, displayed in a
green blouse and matching, short skirt. Her long, straight blonde hair
framed a round face with full lips and deep coral blue eyes.
"A nightmare." She waited a moment. "You're the last man I slept with.
The Voices tell me that you're the one. It happens at dusk."
He studied her face. She was trying to smile, but she looked so nervous,
so drawn and tired. "Here?" he asked in a voice that was barely more
than a whisper.
"By the water? Crashing waves... swept away by the force of our passion;
it - look, this is _your_ party as much as mine. Where do _you_ want it
to happen?"
"Up in the hills. The air's clear, with the smell of grass and trees;
nature, the _way_ it was when I was a kid." He could see her strained
expression. "You don't mind... do you?"
"Not if it's important to you..." Her voice trailed off.
He stood up and took her hand in his. "It is. My car's right over
there." He pointed. "Let's go."
* * * * *
They drove less than twenty minutes. Micklesohn Park would have been
full of people on Saturday or Sunday, playing games, cooking and eating
dinner. This was a Wednesday, and the place was almost empty.
Especially around the remote parking lot where he finally stopped.
Morgan hurried around the car to help Elysse get out. She needed the
help. She was pale and unsteady on her feet. "I've got a blanket in the
trunk. Give me a minute to get it."
"O... Okay." She leaned against the vehicle for support.
He was back quickly with the blanket and - surprise! - a bottle of very
good red wine. "There's a great view just over here." He took her left
hand in his and put his other arm around her waist.
"Thanks." She was annoyed at how husky, how tired her voice sounded.
Still, she was grateful for his concern. And she could feel the
beginning of arousal in his gentle touch.
He found a nice space near a small stand of pine trees. The trees
blocked the view from the parking lot. She braced herself against one,
while he spread out the blanket. A patch of pale blue wild flowers grew
around the trees giving off a pleasing scent.
"Careful, now," he said, helping her onto the blanket. He was smiling,
but his happy mood, she could tell, was as forced as her own."
He used a corkscrew, one that she hadn't noticed before, to open the
wine, pouring some into a glass. He took a sip and smiled. "Good as
advertised." He filled the glass and handed it to her. He filed a
second glass and raised it in a toast. "To my beautiful Elysse." He
clinked he glass with his own and drank.
"Thank you." She also drank a bit of the wine. "It is good." She
quickly finished her glass.
By now the sun was sinking down behind the buildings of the buildings in
the city below. It seemed to be pulling the energy right out of her.
"We must get started." She grasped the hem of her green silk blouse and
pulled it up and over her head, tossing it away. Her breasts were
proudly displayed in the froth of an off-white lace 36-C brassiere.
"Good start." He noticed that her nipples were extended, pushing against
the fabric of her bra, and he felt himself grow hard. He undid the top
three buttons of his shirt and yanked t off. That done, he leaned over
and took her head is hands, steadying it for a kiss.
She tensed, but then moaned softly and gave in her feelings and began to
return the kiss. Then she sighed and pulled away. We... We have to keep
going. We can't... can't waste time...." She looked ready to cry.
"..._enjoying_ ourselves."
"Elysse." He gently touched her cheek. "I'm sorry."
"You're --- _don't_ apologize! I'm the one doing this... Doing it to you."
She kicked off her shoes. She wasn't wearing hose. Her legs were long
with an elegant curve, even seated on the ground..
He quickly pulled off his own shoes and socks. And pants. His arousal
was obvious, tenting his camo-colored boxers almost to bursting. "Oooh,
damn!" he gasped when she reached over and ran a finger along it.
Her hands trembled as she slid down the zipper that held her skirt tight
to her waist. He realized that he couldn't tell if that trembling was
sexual excitement or physical weakness. She grew paler, more drawn even
as he looked at her. Much as he hated all this, he _had_ to continue.
"I need some help here." Her voice was hoarse, raspy, as if she were
ill.
Morgan nodded. He moved up beside Elysse and carefully slipped his arms
under her at the waist and just below her hips. "Ready?" When she
nodded, not wanting to use the energy to speak, he lifted her middle a
few inches from the blanket. Her hand snaked down and yanked at her
clothes. When she had finished, her skirt - and panties - hung down just
below her hips. Her most secret self was now exposed to him.
"Still so very beautiful." He said in a husky voice that betrayed his
arousal. He set her back down, and then grasped her garments and slid
them down her legs. He put them out of the way in a corner of the
blanket.
Her breath was coming in short gasps, and she looked _so_ thin. 'Like
some Third World famine victim,' he thought. In spite of that - or was
it because of the curse - she was more sexy than he had ever seen her.
When he yanked off his own shorts, he was almost surprised not to see a
billy club, no a _baseball_ _bat_ down there between his legs. He felt
that hard.
He climbed over her. She spread her legs and guided him in. Damn! She
was wet and more than ready for him. Before he started pumping, he
reached up and tried to kiss her.
"Just _do_ it!" she ordered angrily. Then her voice softened, and she
added, "Please."
He nodded and started to move, stroke after pleasurable stroke, She was
so _very_ good; so tight that there was almost a hand around his member,
stroking him as he moved.
She gasped. Her hips moved with him. Her arms flailed for a moment
before they grasped at the blanket. Her head rolled from side to side as
she made small, cooing sounds.
He felt the pressure build in him. Build and _build_, and he would do
anything to stop what he _knew_ was going to happen. The line-up of the
1969 New York Mets, the twelve times tables; they held the pressure back.
But not forever. He grunted like the great brown bear he'd once seen in
a circus and felt what must have been _gallons_ of his male essence into
her.
His release set off hers. She screamed and her fingers clawed at his
back. He devoutly hoped that nobody was in the twenty-block radius that
her screams must have been heard.
He felt himself grow flaccid. He started to move off of her.
And found that he couldn't. He was frozen in position above her. A
feeling of... was it weakness spread from his member to all parts of his
body. He no longer had the strength to be on his hands and knees above
her, and his body sank down onto hers.
No... _into her. His body was insubstantial, a mist, and her body seemed
to be soaking it up like a sponge.
"I'm sorry, Morgan." Her voice sounded much stronger. "And I-I did love
you."
"So did I," he managed to whisper.
She smiled, bright as the sun. "I think we can live with that."
It was the last thing he heard, as his head settled down, absorbed into
hers. He found himself drifting in a dark, silent place.
But then there was a great _wrenching_. He found himself looking up at a
sky that was shifting from daytime blue to evening purple.
He sat up and looked down at his nude body on the blanket, his pillowy
breasts, his narrow waist, his legs that went on "forever", and the hair
covered slit between his legs. "I-I'm her. I'm Elysse."
"Welcome to the job," a voice in his head greeted him. He - no, she -
recognized it somehow as Tom, Elysse's previous lover.
Tom had become Elysse some twenty-five years ago, just as he - she, she
reminded herself - had just become Elysse. Now they were separate within
in Elysse's mind. Tom joined Billy, and Jared, and Frank, and a long
line of others stretching back over five centuries and more to the
original Elysse.
She had been a poor Tuscan peasant who had betrayed a rich landlord, and
then betrayed the man's son, her lover. Both had died, but another,
younger son, a tonsured monk, had laid the curse of 1,000 years of lust
and betrayal upon her.
Morgan would have been astounded, even angered by the truth. That she
had been forced by her lover to betray his father might not have mattered
to him. He was a man after all.
She... _She_ was Elysse, now, and she had a _woman's_ sensibilities. "And
no sensible woman stands around naked on a blanket in a deserted park at
twilight."
She dressed in a hurry. That she knew how to put on a brassiere was no
surprise. She'd been wearing the things since they were invented more
than 100 years ago. Walking on grass in two-inch heels was no mystery
either.
She gathered up the blanket. The last effects of Morgan, his wallet and
his keys, were on it, and she stuffed them into her purse. She climbed
into the car,the driver's side, and adjusted the seat for her shorter
height. When she adjusted the mirror, she saw another trace of Morgan.
Her hair was now red, with a bit more curl, and her eyes were a shade of
green. "Something to remember him by," she said. Such changes weren't
uncommon in her half-millennium of experience.
She started the car and turned on the radio. With a frown, she switched
the channel from a sports call-in show to an NPR classical music station.
It had been too long a day, and she just wanted to relax.
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