A Fistful Of Sand Book 1Chapter 14: A Good Day (part One) free porn video

The stone walls of the castle were eerily quiet. The furs and tapestries on the walls and the floors kept out much of the fall chill, and still Gregg shivered in spite of himself. He looked at his hands, rough and calloused, covered with grime and ... blood. Pushing his chair back from the table he at which he sat, he marveled at his clothing. 'Hmmm, a kilt and a sword... ' He was used to these nocturnal ethereal transportations through time ... well as "used-to" as one could get dreaming about men from other times with similar powers meeting violent, bloody ends. It would only be a matter of moments before what seemed to be some past life unveiled itself ... and of course, what untimely end he'd meet...

The door opened behind him and a woman gasped. He turned around knowing full well who would be entering the room. No, it wasn't Gregg who turned his head, it was the man whose body he occupied. He looked up and his eyes locked onto her brilliant green eyes. There was always a beautiful woman. And she always had green eyes.

"Davis, you startled me," she said, keeping a wary distance as she entered the room, closing the door behind her. Her look of surprise was tinged with mischief, indicating to Davis that she was neither surprised, nor was his visit unexpected. The lock struck home with an echoing thunk. "Is the battle over already?" Her question was directed at Davis, but her eyes were looking toward her wardrobe. Only when she confirmed everything was as it should be did she return her attention to the warrior sitting at her table.

"Aye lass, it be over. Your Uncle's men died before they could even draw their swords. There was no honor in the slaughter, but then, there was no honor in the King's rape and pillage of my village. Tell me, M'lady Katherine, does it no bother you to hear of the death of your countrymen?"

Katherine cocked one eyebrow, challenge and command plain on her face. His Scottish burr's coloring of the Queen's English caused her more suffering than the deaths of a few dead soldiers. She approached Davis, her light green gown pulled tight against her generous bosom, her flaming red hair spilling over her right shoulder in long curls. To those who saw her, she was an angel. To those who crossed her — the Devil.

Kneeling before Davis' chair, she closed her eyes, inhaling the exciting scents of sweat, blood, horse, and steel. Her hands played with the hair on the exposed part of Davis' leg, between his socks and the McCall tartan. She didn't need to open her eyes to know that the kilt was already being lifted away from his legs by his growing manhood. It was often asked in the noble circles if it was true what the Scots didn't wear beneath their kilts ... and she was one of the few who could attest to the truth for at least one great warrior.

"I just don't think it sporting, Davis." She said as if commenting on a tourney. "I mean, it's just not fair that while the uncle of my now departed husband clads his men in suits of iron, you and your brave men defend yourselves with sticks and skirts."

Davis could feel the desire burning in her body. He could feel it as surely as he could feel the burn from the shallow knife wound on his arm. It was three months ago that he awoke in the field just outside his village, the lone survivor of the surprise raid on his village. After grieving the carnage that was once his home, he stumbled into the next town and quickly learned about his new powers. After many drunken nights getting free "healing" from the local whores, he decided his powers must be a gift from God to avenge his family's death. While the local lord, Katherine's husband, was out hunting, he snuck into the castle (no easy feat, but his abilities helped) and gave the Lady Katherine the shagging of her life. What was supposed to be a one-night vengeance-fuck turned into a regular rendezvous. To his excitement, the Lady Katherine liked his rough treatment of her ... and he didn't even need to use his powers to make her enjoy it.

Three weeks later, the King proclaimed a day of mourning when Katherine's husband mysteriously threw himself from the high tower. Only Davis knew that it was no accident. Katherine had put on a convincing act as the grieving widow, dismissing most of the castle's staff, and keeping only a token guard. The emptiness of the castle allowed him easier access to the once royal bedroom, and by agreement, he promised not to have his men attack the castle in exchange for information regarding the movement of the King's troops. She fed him information and he fed her ... well, you know. Nevertheless, it disturbed him that she never appreciated the sacrifices his men made, or the struggle for which they fought ... she probably really did think this nothing more than sport. He knew he was just a pawn in her game, but he didn't care so long as he could continue making the King suffer.

Yes, Katherine's body was burning with desire, but Davis could see in her mind it wasn't a lust for the flesh between his legs. It was a lust born out of the glee in knowing that her hated uncle tasted yet another defeat. It was a lust born from the imagination of hundreds of unclean, brutish men throwing themselves upon hapless soldiers in burnished armor. Their imagined cries of pain and pleas for mercy as they were cut apart sending quivers of joy and desire through her body. Davis had to pull his mind away, afraid he'd sick up at her inhuman bloodlusts.

But even his disgust in the monster who knelt between his legs could not soften his cock, especially when she took him into her mouth. Her head bobbed wetly up and down his mammoth rod as she hummed gleefully around his girth. He curled his rough hands into her soft locks and guided her mouth around his enormous pole. He refused to listen in any more, afraid to know what was driving her pleasure now. No, for now he'd just enjoy her talents, glad to be alive for one more day.

From behind the Scot's eyes, Gregg watched the familiar pattern unfold. Although the sadistic nature of the woman was a new twist on the pattern of dreams, he was sure of what was to come. 'Here's where the guards burst in and cut me down... '

After sucking on his cock for several minutes, Katherine stood, leaving Davis's prick standing at rapt attention as she removed his clothing. Knowing the warmth between her legs was the only rival to the warmth of her mouth, Davis aided her in his disrobement. The sweat-odor infused into his clothes was especially harsh after the day's battle, but he knew from experience that his raw scent only fueled Katherine's lusts.

To his surprise and dismay, Katherine neither removed her clothing nor lay upon the bed. Instead, she stood with her back to her wardrobe, waiting for Davis to finish undressing. "I have a surprise for you. Something that should help slake your thirst for vengeance." The lust coming off Katherine's body in anticipation of her surprise was so powerful that Davis inwardly cringed — wondering what perverse horror could have her so aroused.

She opened the wardrobe door and reached inside. "Come on darling. The hiding game is over." The honey-sweet sound of her voice belied the depraved desires emanating from her mind.

Squinting in the later-afternoon sun, a young woman, no more than a girl really, stood before Davis' towering naked form. She wore a simple white gown embroidered with blue flowers and her hair was laced with tiny pearls. He had expected any of a thousand horrors, but not this image of purity and innocence. The girl looked up at him with doe-eyed fear, pressing herself tighter against Katherine's skirts, holding her white rabbit for comfort. Katherine put a reassuring arm around the young girl's shoulder, but did nothing to avert her gaze, making sure the girl saw the towering stature of the man before her.

"What's your game lass?" Davis asked Katherine, so disarmed by the young girl's presence that he didn't even think to use his powers.

"Davis, I want you to meet my niece, Elizabeth." Katherine knelt beside Elizabeth so she could speak to the girl at her level. "Elizabeth, this is Davis McCall. Your father, the King, led his army through his village and did some very bad things." Katherine held the girl tightly, though she hardly made a move to escape. "Davis, I believe Elizabeth is about the same age as your sister when the King's men raped and murdered her. Am I wrong?"

Katherine's reminder of Davis' most tragic day had the desired effect.

"NO!!!" Gregg screamed inside his head, but like a movie he couldn't help but watch, the horrific tableau unfolded. As much as he wished he could shut his eyes to block out the vile brutal acts that followed, the eyes through which he watched this scene were not his, and to his revulsion, Davis' bloodlust was intent on the making Katherine's young niece be the channel into which all his rage flowed. Gregg felt like Davis' skull was like a soundproof glass prison in which he shouted his horror and punched and kicked the walls to no avail. The girl's screams pierced his soul and he was powerless to stop it, forced to witness every agonizing moment. "NOOOO!!!!"

Days later, the tortured and battered body of the little princess was found by palace guards, wrapped in bloody sheets and clutching a dead white rabbit to her heart.

For the first time since he began having the dreams, Gregg awoke — not with his own untimely and violent death, but with that of a little girl named Elizabeth...

It was Monday morning, and Heather awoke to the sound of the morning radio show talking about the latest Hollywood gossip. She slapped the snooze button more to stop their annoying drivel than to buy another ten minutes of sleep. Lying in bed, the world around her began to come into focus. She still wasn't used to early mornings, and the workout Gregg had given her over the weekend still had her muscles (and other places) sore ... but pleasantly so.

It was thoughts of Gregg that caused an icy pit in her stomach to grow — not the usual reaction her body had to thoughts of him. She lifted her head slightly off the pillow and saw that she was alone in bed. Emily had decided to crash with them over the weekend, but Heather remembered her saying something about waking up early for a run. 'How that girl could run, or for that matter, walk after this weekend, I'll never know.' Chad brought her things over last night, but opted not to stay. He said he had an early workout, but from the way he was walking, Heather whimsically thought he might try to get out of a few days of practice due to a "groin pull."

Thoughts of Emily warmed her heart. It wasn't just being reunited with a favorite sexual partner — favorite since having to abandon Cathy to Vinnie's not-so-tender mercies — no, there was something more there, and Gregg was at the heart of it. Again, thoughts of Gregg turned her blood cold in her veins and she knew something was wrong.

Getting out of bed and tying a short robe around herself, she peeked into her small living room. Sure enough, Gregg was sitting on her couch, a cup of tea and a saucer held idly in his hands, his stare vacant.

Heather sat down next to him on the couch, one luscious leg curled under the other. Gregg jumped, genuinely surprised to find her sitting beside him. The tea from the full cup sloshed out a bit onto his hand, but it had long since gone cold. Gregg put the cup and saucer down on the small table beside the couch, absently looking for something to wipe his hand on. Not used to seeing him in this befuddled state, Heather ran her fingers through his hair, surprised to feel that his scalp was cold and clammy.

"Gregg, what's wrong? How long have you been sitting here like this?"

Unable to meet her gaze, he simply mumbled "Bad dream," and dried his hand on his pajama top. Gregg couldn't bear to look into her eyes, the same green eyes that gleamed with desire and joy in his dream as he — 'NO! Not me! Davis McCall' — as Davis raped and murdered the sweet young Elizabeth, whose only crime was that she was the daughter of a tyrant. Heather's eyes had always been a calming oasis in the chaos of all that had happened and now he was afraid he'd look into them and only see the torment of an innocent girl. He closed his eyes, but in the darkness his mind replayed horrors he'd just witnessed.

Heather could feel the distress in Gregg's soul. She knew nothing of the mystical ties that bound them, but her heart could feel his pain, and her love for him demanded she heal his wounds.

Forcefully, yet gently, turning Gregg's head toward her, she held her face mere inches from his. Still, he kept his eyes averted, clenching them shut to avoid looking at her. "Gregg? Gregg, please look at me. Tell me what happened. You'll feel better if you tell me about your nightmare." Gregg tried to turn his head, but Heather's grasp was unyielding.

Finally, having no other option but to either physically push her away or submit; Gregg's eyes opened. Like cresting the top of the highest peak on a roller coaster, he felt himself fall into her emerald pools. Instantly he was inside her mind, desperately looking for anything reminiscent of the cold brutality her counterpart exhibited in his dream, frantically looking for anything that would equate Katherine with Heather. Searching desperately, and yet desperately hoping to find nothing. It was an irrational search — how could his nightmare be inside her head, and still, they were her eyes...

Only a few seconds later, he released her mind, and both took simultaneous breaths as if emerging from a pool of water. Heather had no idea of what happened, only that Gregg, seeming to finally come back to earth, finally let go of whatever horror had awoken him. "Oh God, Heather ... I'm ... I'm ... sor-"

Tears pool in his eyes as the grief of what he witnessed finally overtook him. Heather had no idea what he was apologizing about, but now was not the time to ask. He pulled Heather close and cried on her shoulder, letting her loving arms soothe away the pain with her gentle embrace. What she didn't know was that Gregg was as grieved by his desperate search in her mind for traces of the evil he endured as he was by those very acts. Though she was completely unaware, he felt like he had as assuredly pillaged her mind ... as if there even COULD be anything like that hidden inside her.

Heather knew when words would just get in the way. She held Gregg like she would a child, rocking him gently, letting her hands run through his perpetually unruly hair, letting his grief run its course. He sobbed until there were no tears left. Once Gregg began to get a handle on himself, Heather stood, pulling Gregg up by his hand and leading him back to the bedroom.

Still sniffling, and slightly embarrassed by his uncontrolled behavior, Gregg stood silently, passively, as Heather removed his pajamas and lay him back down on the bed. Heather gave only the briefest thought to the oddity of Gregg wearing pajamas, having gotten used to sleeping with him in the nude. Removing her robe, she curled up next to him and let her body keep him warm. After laying in silent embrace for several minutes, Gregg took a deep breath and turned to face Heather.

"I ... I dreamed I was a Scotsman in feudal England. There was this noblewoman named Katherine..."

And so Gregg relayed all of the dream that he could remember (omitting his personal connection to past dreams, or the powers he held), even as parts of it thankfully began to slip from memory. Heather knew he was shielding her from many of the gory details, but she didn't pursue it. By the time he finished, Gregg's voice was cold and detached while Heather wept silently beside him.

" ... So I can't help but think Heather, 'Is it real?' Did it happen? Or worse, it there something inside me capable of such acts?"

Heather wiped away her tears and hugged Gregg that much harder. "Gregg, I don't know where such a horrible nightmare came from, but I know ... I KNOW your heart, and that you're not capable of such things." Gregg again met her stare and to his relief her eyes only shone with love and understanding, none of the malicious evil that he feared from his dream. Her caring words devastated him — she had no doubts about his soul, and yet he had to dig through her mind to prove hers. He was ashamed by his actions but could not apologize without revealing his powers.

Pulling himself to her side, he entwined his limbs around the beautiful woman beside him. Somehow, Heather's soft understanding had pulled him out from a very dark place and he was left only with a warm sense of peace, despite the lingering memories. His despair began to wash away as if through her love Heather had worked a little magic of her own.

With her soft body pressed tightly against his and the fruity scent from her hair filling his nostrils, Gregg couldn't help the growing desire that was pressing ever more insistently against the voluptuous redhead's thigh.

"Well, it seems that someone is feeling better?" she smiled. Rolling Gregg onto his back, Heather filled her already moist channel with his still hardening cock. Once she had his manhood fully encased in her warm depths, she lay forward so as much of her heavenly body as possible could press against her lover. Her lips descended onto Gregg's, and he returned her passionate kiss with equal fervor.

Gregg marveled at the softness of her body and the sensuousness of her curves as she began to grind her pelvis on his. His hands explored every inch of her skin, rediscovering her as if he had never made love to her before. It felt incredibly good to have her all to himself, for a little while at least. Just him, not the animal he became over the weekend.

Heather's body responded to his delicate yet needful touches with moans and an increased tempo with her hips. It wasn't long before Gregg felt he was moments away from his release. They hadn't been at it for long, but the feelings from each other were so intense that it didn't seem right to try to delay the inevitable. Finally pulling his lips away from hers, Gregg moaned, "Oh God Heather! I ... I can't hold back!"

"Me too Gregg! Ahh, you're making me come! AHH!" Heather's pussy clamped down hard on Gregg's shaft at the same instant his seed rushed forth, spraying into her heavenly interior. With a passing thought as his body heaved and shuddered, he realized that they both came simultaneously and he didn't even remember using any of his powers. As if sensing the emotionality of that moment, Heather collapsed fully onto Gregg's chest and he felt a warm, wet tear roll from her cheek to his. Together, they lay motionless except for their panting, refusing to release the other from their embrace. However, all good things must pass...

"Is this a private party or is there room in there for one more?"

Gregg looked up and Heather swung her head around to see Emily standing in the doorway. She was wearing her running outfit: sports bra, running shorts, tenners, and, of course, her dark brown hair in a ponytail. Leaning against the door frame, Emily had apparently been there for quite some time, watching, her hand inside her shorts helping her enjoy the show that much more. Gregg was sure the flush on her face had nothing to do with her run. "That was sooo fucking intense!" she commented, wincing in pleasure as her hand rubbed that much faster.

"You're back early," Heather said matter-of-factly, still laying upon and filled by Gregg. She turned her sight back to the man beneath her. "What do you think, Gregg? Do we have room for another?"

Heather could feel his answer once again expanding her vaginal walls, but still he smiled and said, "Well, I'd hate to be rude..."

With his affirmation, Emily's legs clamped shut around her hand and she squeaked as a small orgasm hit her. Recovering somewhat, she removed her hand from her shorts and began removing her clothing while Gregg rolled Heather onto her back.

The three of them made love for another half hour before Heather had to excuse herself to get dressed for work, leaving Emily in Gregg's capable hands. Gregg was up on his knees in the bed fucking fiercely into Emily. He held her ass off the bed and her long legs were scissored around his waist while she arched her back so her shoulders were the only part of her touching the comforter. One hand clenched the blanket in a white-knucked grip while the other pinched and pulled at a nipple capping a small, pert breast. Her compact body was pulled taut by the stretch and when Heather exited the bathroom she couldn't help but admire Em's tight, fit little body.

Kissing Gregg on the lips while he continued to pound into the horny teen, Heather bid him farewell, "Don't forget Gregg honey, you've got a lunch meeting with your friend Charli." She gave him a conspiratorial smile, not fully understanding the friendship he seemed to have with this young girl. "And you," she said, leaning down to kiss the writhing teen on the lips gently, trying not to smear her lipstick, "don't forget we have a tennis match this afternoon." Turning back to Gregg, "try not to wear her out Gregg. Okay?"

"Yes dear," Gregg panted, watching Heather's shapely ass retreat around the bedroom door and exit the apartment. It was like some bizzaro 'Leave it to Beaver' episode: Mom leaves for work with Dad happily fucking the babysitter in bed...

Loathe as he was to leave the insatiable Emily, Gregg knew he had a lot to do today. Ramping up the speed with which he plowed into her, he also tapped into her mind to heighten her pleasure.

For several minutes more he marveled at her body's reaction to a string of intense orgasms. Gregg was sure her body would snap as it contorted and flexed as she gave herself over to the pleasure he was dishing out in waves. Finally the visual show and the incredible wet tightness of her cunt were too much for Gregg and he came with full force inside her.

Emily lay panting before him, her body glowing with a sheen of sweat. She held her arms up and Gregg grasped them, pulling her up so she was sitting in his lap, her arms and legs holding him tight. As they kissed, Gregg had to tilt his head back slightly since in this position she was slightly higher. Her hair, freed from its ponytail holder formed a curtain around their faces, tickling his neck. As she squirmed in his lap he could feel the warm trickle of their combined juices oozing down his shaft and onto his thigh. Despite the intensity of their fuck, Gregg felt more alive than he had in days. It wasn't the hyper-sexuality of the previous days. No, that seemed to pass with their reunion. But there was no denying that as he held this compact beauty to against him, his exhaustion ebbed and his body renewed.

Feeling his body react as if getting ready for another round, Gregg was forced to break their embrace. Helping her off the bed, Gregg led them into the bathroom. "If we don't get cleaned up now, I may never leave this bedroom, and honestly, after hardly leaving it for three days, I'm actually eager to see my office!"

Emily put on her best fake pout, but with a playful swat on her tight ass, Gregg scooted her into the shower. While two naked, sexually charged bodies may not make for the most efficient shower, they nevertheless managed to get cleaned up dressed. Emily was scheduled to play tennis after lunch (Heather only had a half-day in the ESU admissions office today) and then go to Loyola with Chad to buy the books she'd need for her nursing classes. Gregg remembered Chad's wince with mock horror at her promise to 'thank' him for driving her around campus. Once she got herself a monthly pass from the bookstore, she'd only have a ten-minute train ride between campuses.

Gregg packed his backpack and headed out the door after giving Emily his key to Heather's apartment and then a kiss goodbye. Per Heather's wish, he made a mental note to get extra copies made since the list of people who seemed to have open access was growing. Rather than heading to his office, Gregg went instead to the basement archives where he told Chad to meet him.

"You're late EP," Chad said with mock seriousness. Gregg loved the way his friend and former student still called him EP, short for El Professor — the nickname Heather and the boys gave him at the dig. "What's the matter, overslept?"

"Chad, with both Heather AND Emily in the apartment, do you honestly think I'm late because I'm getting TOO MUCH sleep?"

Both of them laughed heartily, the dreariness of the storage room forgotten in a moment of male-bonding joviality.

"Now," Gregg said, resuming an authoritative stance and pulling a fresh legal pad out from his backpack, "we've got a lot to do today. Let's see what's been cataloged and documented so far so we can figure out what needs to be done next. We've got to be ready for tonight's meeting."

'Despite the rocky start, ' Gregg thought, 'today might yet just be a good day.'

Charli tried to keep from fidgeting as she sat in the small gyros shop on the south side of campus. "The Athenian" was yet another favorite student hangout, but since classes didn't begin for another few weeks, most of the chairs remained empty. Across from her, Dr. Walters was intently scrutinizing the web pages she had polished for this meeting. Most of the bands whose web pages she maintained were pretty fringe, but she was proud of the work she did. She hoped he liked what he saw — if he was serious about getting her another gig other than the one she currently had as a workstudy, then she'd be very happy ... especially if she worked for him.

Even though he insisted she refer to him as "Gregg" it was hard to do that, at least when they were meeting on "business." When discussing the merits of what toppings belong on a hot dog, she had no problem calling him "Gregg" or "crazy" for that matter. 'I mean really, a hot dog's SUPPOSED to have pickles, tomatoes, onions, mustard, and kraut ... This is Chicago! Where does he think we live? Wisconsin?!' So, while he clicked through various pages, she took another small bite of her sandwich. She expressly ordered the gyro without onions ... it seemed silly, but deep in her heart, she hoped...

Wiping the dollop of cucumber sauce off her chin from the overstuffed pita, Charli scanned the rest of the restaurant. The two highly attractive girls toward the back were still there, sipping coffee and whispering to themselves. She tried to pay them no mind, but ignoring them was no easy task. For starters, they WERE extremely beautiful. One was small and athletic looking wearing a tight white tank top with her hair in a ponytail who did most of the giggling. The other was wearing a white polo shirt with the buttons undone showing quite a bit of cleavage. She had red hair and green eyes that seemed to bore right through her whenever she glanced in her direction. It didn't help that both wore those really short tennis skirts that showed off their long smooth legs. Charli was no lesbian, but beauty was beauty, and those two had it in spades ... much like the handsome professor sitting across from her...

The second odd thing was that they both sat on the same side of the table rather than across from each other, and they looked over at her and Gregg as much as they did each other. She understood wanting to watch Gregg, but they had chosen their seats before he'd even arrived. Moreover, they gave her as much attention as Gregg...

Finally, they were only drinking coffee, and the Athenian's coffee was barely passed as black sludge. The guy behind the counter stared at them questioningly when they ordered, but wasn't about to refuse. The redhead was so beautiful and so confident that Charli was sure that if she asked him to chop off a finger, he'd do it and then wrap it in a bow. Charli shook her head at the thought, both because it was gross, but also because she knew it to be true. At least for now the guy just stared at them while pretending to fix the soda machine, despite the fact that it worked just fine minutes ago.

Still, she had to give Gregg credit. When he walked in to the gyros shop, he gave the two girls not much more than a questioning glance before giving his full attention to her. Charli's despair at having to share space with the two hotties turned to elation when she saw that Gregg was pretty much unfazed by them. As Charli was considering this, the two girls apparently decided they'd had enough of the black swill and headed out of the restaurant. Gregg looked up as they left and to Charli's surprise, he turned beet red, at the same instant that the guy behind the counter dropped a glass. What Charli didn't see was that as they exited, both girls flipped up their skirts for a moment, revealing that they both "forgot" their underwear — hence the blush and the broken glass. When Charli turned her head to see what she missed, all she saw were the two girls giggling and running past the window, their sports bags over their shoulders.

Charli breathed a silent sigh of relief now that the two hotties were gone. She knew that Gregg was way out of her league, especially since he was a professor — well assistant professor, but a faculty member nonetheless, but that didn't stop her crush. For the first time in years, she wished she'd chosen a different outfit from the one she always wore: loose black jeans, a black t-shirt (this time with a NOFX print), heavy black boots, wallet chain, and studded wrist bands. The healthy tan on the thankfully-gone girls only reminded her of how pale her skin was. The only color she wore were the pink hair clips holding her long black hair behind her ears. She practically cried when she saw that these remnants from her childhood were the only hairclips she had, but in the end, her desire to keep her hair off her face, like she instinctively knew Gregg liked, won out. Once this meeting was over, they were going straight into the trash.