CHAPTER 2

Chapter 2

The trip to the girl’s house was short. They arrived within 20 minutes. She’d been unable to keep her hands off him during the drive. She’d tried to snuggle into him but the bucket seats prevented intimacy. Finally, she’d undone his trousers, pulled his manhood free and dropped her head into his lap. He could have simply commanded her to bide her time, and she would have obeyed. But he saw no harm in this little episode. He chose not to climax, but enjoyed the ministrations of her mouth. Soon they were pulling into her drive.

Her family was comfortable. They had five acres, mostly in pasture, for the horses they all enjoyed riding. There were few neighbors and none close. The man had no reason to suspect they’d be disturbed. The garage door opened when he pressed the button on the remote clipped to the visor. He told her to stop what she was doing while he parked the car. He buttoned himself back up and they got out. She was flushed and panting with need. She leaned on him as they climbed the two steps to the door in the left wall at the back of the garage. It opened into the kitchen. She fumbled the keys, but finally managed to gain entry.

The girl’s father liked to leave a few lights on around the house, even when the family wasn’t home, and the kitchen was brightened a little by two small bulbs in the exhaust hood over the stove. Illuminated, in the dim light, was a large and functional kitchen. The wall on his right was counter space, extending all the way across the room. In that counter was an enameled sink. Large gaily curtained windows would brighten the kitchen with the day’s light. The left hand wall held the oven, refrigerator, freezer and pantry. In the middle was an island. Above it, copper bottom pots and pans hung from a rack suspended from the ceiling. The rack curved about half way round the island extending from both sides of the exhaust fan located directly over an inset stove. Against the far wall cupboards framed a swinging door that led to the dining room and the rest of the house.

They got no farther than the kitchen. The door had barely shut behind them before she pressed her body against him, and whispered that she had to have him…now. He smiled indulgently, and began to undress her. She let her head loll backwards languidly as he pulled her blouse from her torso and unhooked her bra. Both garments dropped to the floor where they stood.

Her breasts hung free now. They were not “epic” but large enough to sway with the movement of her body. He cupped one in his hand as he thought about how he would use her. There was no need for foreplay. His presence brought her to fever pitch, and her body shivered with its need. Her nipples were erect and distended. Her pussy was wet; prepared for a hard visitor. He had little experience with arousing a girl in any event. For him, it was simply never required.

Without a word, he walked her to the island, circling it till he found a place clear of appliances, cutting board, or mail, turned her, and bent her over it. To his left was the door to the garage. To his right the swinging door. He pulled down her pantyhose and panties, opened his pants again, and plunged his rigid shaft into her trembling sex.

She squealed, and then moaned. He knew it was only a matter of minutes before she would experience her first orgasm of the evening. He was not wrong, and soon the moans gave way to the cries of climax; her nectar coating him. He withheld his own orgasm. He didn’t want to fill her too quickly.

To him, the sex was what it always was; pleasant, but routine. He was alpha. He would do as he must; and derive from it the pleasure that was his due. He looked down at the cute bottom, round, naked and quivering, tapering into her narrow waist, and rocking in time to his thrusts. As he examined it, he felt an interesting reaction. He was glad she was pretty. It rarely mattered to him. An ancient crone served his purposes as readily as a young temptress. Better in some ways, for she was more likely to truly need the release he offered. Still, he felt it no sin to treat himself, now and then; and this girl was an apt dessert.

After she climaxed a second time, he withdrew, turned her, so she faced him; the small of her back resting against the counter. This time he wanted her to see him as he took her. He wanted her breasts available. The hunger was on him too, and he would touch her and taste her.

“Remove your shoes, your skirt, and your underthings,” he commanded. She quickly obeyed. He stepped back to shed his own clothing. No one cared where the garments fell. When they were both naked, he lifted her to sit at the edge of the counter. She spread her legs once more. Her hands gripped his shoulders as he entered her again.

*********************

The young man’s trip down I-5 had been uneventful. The evening had turned to night as he’d traveled through the rural countryside bisected by the interstate. The fertile Willamette Valley spread to either side, bordered to the east by the Cascade Mountains and to the west by the coast range. Down the middle of the valley ran the Willamette River. It was farm and nursery country between Portland and Salem. The valley produced some of the best grass seed and nursery stock in the world.

For his part, he’d be glad to leave it behind. He loved his family, but he couldn’t help the growing sense that this was not his place. He felt constrained by it; as though it tied his spirit. He felt he could not grow here; could not become what he was destined to be. The girl he’d been on his way to see felt the same way. She wanted freedom, and was wild enough to go seeking it. He’d find out if pro football wanted him. If not, he had some decisions to make.

These thoughts occupied him as he pulled off the freeway at the Kuebler exit, a bit south of Salem proper. His family’s place wasn’t too far, a quiet little faux farm nestled near the top of a gentle hill. Soon he was there. He parked in the driveway and walked the flagstone steps to the front door. A lamp that burned in the front bay window, along with the porch light, gave him more than enough light to key the lock and step inside. Sure enough, his phone rested on the living room coffee table, right where he’d left it. There were no messages.

He turned to make a quick exit when low sounds caught his attention. He couldn’t make heads or tails of the noises, but they seemed to be coming from the kitchen. His sister must be home, and making herself a bite to eat, he thought. There was a TV in the kitchen. He smiled as he thought of his pretty sister pigging out while she watched some chick flick.

He thought about sneaking out. If she hadn’t heard him come in, he could make a clean getaway and be sooner on the road. But, in the end, he figured he’d better check in with her. Besides, he was a bit peckish. A little snack struck him as a great idea. Smiling, he walked through the living room and dining room. As he approached the kitchen, the sounds became clearer. It must be a really steamy movie.

He opened the swinging door, switched on the lights, and stopped dead.

There was his sister, her naked butt planted on the island in the middle of the room. Her legs were spread wide while her arms…her arms…encircled a man. He was fucking her. She was moaning. Both of them ignored him.

He opened his mouth to excuse himself, but no sound emerged. He decided to quietly back away, but his body wouldn’t obey the commands of his mind. His feet would not move. He was rooted to the spot, powerless to do anything but watch the sexual scene playing out just a few feet from him. For a moment he thought he should stop them, tell them to take it to the bedroom…or, even better, a hotel, rather than get all sweaty, and god knows what else, on mom and dad’s island.

But he didn’t. The expression on his sister’s face, the look in her eyes, was mesmerizing. That face showed pure pleasure. She was in ecstasy. He could not bring himself to interrupt. So, he watched her roll her hips in time to the man’s thrusts, her breathing coming in rapid pants.
It was then that he looked at the man; and the earth…shifted.

The man between his sister’s legs was tall, even taller than him. He was imposing; strong…powerful. The hair on his chest could not obscure the size and definition of his pecs. His arms bulged with rippling muscle. His hands, upon the girl’s hips, were big…masculine. Soon one of them moved to cup a breast, then roll a nipple between thumb and forefinger. The young man’s own nipple seemed to tingle from a phantom touch.
The older man’s broad shoulders looked like they might support the world. He was Atlas, narrow hips perched on legs more solid than the trunks of trees. He was everything a man should be. He was the distillation of manhood. It was only right that he should have any woman he wished.

The young man felt something…emanating…from the older specimen before him; something ancient and compelling. It could not be denied. The room seemed full to bursting with the strength of his will.

The temperature of the room rose…warm…then hot. The young man felt the heat as though it radiated from a single source. The man. Waves of warmth flowed from him. It seemed to beat upon younger man; reach inside him. It kindled a flame in his belly…a slow burn that seeped outward from his center; that ran down the arteries and veins of his body, spreading liquid fire throughout his system.

He heard his sisters moans grow more insistent; the man’s thrusting more rapid. And, watching them, he burned. It was almost as though he, himself, could feel the man; feel his touch, feel his hands, feel his manhood. And he could sense, just as completely, his sisters’ lust, her need. And he knew, without a doubt, they were both close to fulfillment. The closer they got to climax, the more intensely he burned. His blood was molten in his veins. He burned…and he sensed them. He knew every emotion they shared. He could read their passions, their needs, their strengths and their weaknesses. And the coals of his body glowed hotter still.

He watched them reach the pinnacle together. He felt the man’s penis spasm; and the pleasure of his orgasm. He felt his sister’s vagina clench; and the joy of her climax. His own body reacted as though he himself had both penetrated and been penetrated; both orgasms ripping through him, transporting him; but not fulfilling him. He was alive with need.

He dared hope that, as they cooled, so might he. He strained to control his body. He could not. The volcano inside him never stopped its eruption.

It was then the man, still hard inside his sister, turned his eyes to the doorway. Older essence of man locked eyes with the younger male. There was no challenge in the Alpha’s gaze; only confidence, surety, and certainty. But, even as the younger man acknowledged the might that suffused those eyes, he saw something else; something lost…something fragile.

And, as though he were his sister, he felt the hunger. It gripped him. It demanded to be fed. He moaned slightly as his cock stiffened in his jeans.

His mouth opened…and he tried to speak.

“I want….I need….Oh God…”
His blood roared in his ears…the hot burning blood. His eyes lost focus and his heart began to pound. He was a boiling cauldron of desire.

The young man tore at his clothing…buttons popped off his shirt as he pulled it from his body. With fumbling fingers he removed his boots, yanked at his belt, pulled open the button of his jeans. He shucked them, along with socks and underwear. In moments he stood naked before the alpha, his erection pointed to the sky.

A look of shock embedded itself in the older man’s features. Other men, lesser men, should be moved to follow…not to fuck. And yet, he read something in this youngsters face; something…new.

He looked at the girl, withdrawing from her. “Gather your clothes," he said. "Prepare for bed. You will clean yourself, then you will sleep. You have pleased me. You have earned your rest.” She smiled, pushed herself off the counter, and did as he bid; his semen seeping from her pussy, running down her thighs. She could do nothing else.

When she was gone, the older man advanced toward the younger. For the first time in his long life he didn’t know how to proceed. No man had ever before responded to him by manifesting the hunger. It was astonishing.

For his part, the young man now understood his fire. He burned with lust. He had to have the alpha. He had to! Gathering himself, he bent his will to clearing the mists from his mind…and restoring focus to his eyes. Still, his hand began to stroke his penis as he wondered how it might be that he and the man might... Oh God the fire. He was going to combust. The morning would come and would find only his ashes.

His eyes went wide in silent supplication. Would the alpha acknowledge his penis? Would he…allow...Surely not! Yet something had to be done!

The young man struggled to regain control of himself. He fought the hunger with every resource at his command. He would not give in to lust. He would not have sex with another man…even so great a man. It was not right. Never in his life had he desired it. Never in his life had he found his own gender attractive. He would not now! The Alpha would not, could not, satisfy him with mouth or bottom…and he would not offer to give himself to the older man in that way either. Not for the sake of sex. Never.

The Alpha could read the emotions playing out before him.

“No,” said the big man. “I am made to fuck. Not to be fucked. It cannot happen, boy.”

Even as he said it, the Peer became aware something more; something amazing. For the first time, he felt an attraction for another male. It made no sense. Even more astonishing, he realized that the boy felt the hunger as powerfully as any woman, yet he had not moved; he had not thrown himself mindlessly at the Alpha! He was controlling the overpowering urge. He was coping.

At that moment, their eyes locked again. The alpha read the rage of passion in the younger man’s soul…but also something else; something more. The big man imagined he saw kindness, understanding, courage and strength of character. He shouldn’t have seen any of those things. To his mind, the “boy” should have felt nothing but admiration; as any girl should have felt only desire. For his part the younger man gazed deeply into the Alpha, and, through his eyes, comprehended him; more clearly and completely than any other being, Peer or normal, ever had. He saw the distillation of manhood; the raw animal attraction of him. It could not be denied; or even long resisted. Yet, he saw the fissures in the granite of the man’s soul. He knew what no one else could know: that those fissures could, and someday would, crack. For the Alpha was isolated…always alone.

At that moment, the young man lost his heart; every beat proclaiming it’s new purpose: to sustain the alpha. The young man knew what he must do. He must heal the hurt before him. He must end the loneliness.

The lust would not be denied. Neither would the love.

Wordlessly, the young man did what he never imagined he could do. He dropped to his hands and knees and turned; facing away from the man. The youth, who had never even considered a male lover before, offered the alpha his virgin bottom.

Yet again, the alpha reacted with astonishment. Nothing in his experience prepared him for what was happening; and, for an instant, he considered the proposition before him. Such resilience the young man showed. Such depth of feeling. But, in the end, the man believed that it could not be.

“I am Alpha,” he said. “I am made for woman. You are not woman. To have me, you must be.” Even though the Peer knew it was impossible, something compelled him to ask: “Boy, are you willing to go that far?”

The young man, who had just lost his heart, felt it break. The shattered pieces splintered through his chest; the lava in his veins flamed like the core of the sun. He could not bear to fail. If he did, there would be ruin for them both.

He collapsed back, onto his heels, turning, crabwise, still on his knees, to face the big man. The rejection was agony. Despite the hunger, he used hands and feet to slide away until his spine came to rest against the wall beside the swinging door….his legs pushed out before him, his bottom pressed against the linoleum floor.

But he did not leave the room. Neither did he beg for satisfaction. The hunger was killing him, but the boy refused to lose to it. He refused to let it take his mind.
‘How could he have such strength of will?’ thought the Alpha. The alpha then surprised himself. He said, “If you were woman, I would take you. It must be that way.”

As his words died away, the conflagration consuming the young man exploded.

He changed.

His face seemed to lose focus, becoming malleable, then resolved into feminine form; the shape more oval. All the planes and angles that had marked his features softened. His forehead smoothed. His ears diminished and became more shell-like. His brow ridge receded while the brows themselves grew slender. The nose shortened and narrowed, tilting upward slightly at the end. His lips seemed to expand and thicken; and the top lip arched higher. The skin itself changed, adopting a finer, smoother, more silken texture. His eyes moved closer together, and seemed to widen; accentuating the emerald jewel of the iris.

Those eyes never left the alpha. They were fevered; the hunger was a flood covering everything in it’s path; as inexorable as a tsunami. But, in spite of the intense lust, the young man’s eyes searched the alpha; and seemed to see into him deeply. They intense gaze never ceased; even as the changes went on.

The fine texture of the skin extended downward, eventually covering every square inch of the young man’s body. The alpha watched in wonder, knowing the transformation to be a miracle.

The young man’s neck grew longer as his shoulders narrowed. He lost height and mass. His arms and legs thinned into gracefulness. There was muscle there, but it was long, smooth and flexible; far less bulk than had existed before. The young man’s waist narrowed while his hips flared. Hands and feet shrank; the digits fading to slender beauty. His chest grew, buds of breasts forming; pushing outward. At first they showed no signs of stopping, expanding to ridiculous proportion.

The alpha’s eyes widened. He was clearly unhappy with the size of the breasts; and they began to subside.

It was then the transformation reached its critical point; as the young man’s penis, which had stood so proud and erect just moments before, telescoped inward, reducing its size…his testicles pulling up into his body. Soon there was nothing but smooth skin where his manhood had been. The young man’s eyes did not leave the alpha, as there appeared between his legs, the cleft of a female. The vagina formed; the folds of the labia growing more prominent as the clitoris pushed outward. The hood over the new nub of pleasure also appeared…but did not cover. With any arousal at all, his little clitty would be exposed and sensitive to even the lightest contact.

And, in that moment, it was no longer possible to call the person on the kitchen floor “him.”

She had emerged from the chrysalis of what she had been. The final bit of change came as all the hair on her body fell away save for that on her head; and the triangle above her sex. Both the new woman and the essence of man suffered a moment of “déjá  vu” as the universe shifted to embrace a new reality.

And still her eyes did not leave him. She hungered, yet remained motionless.

The alpha approached her. She was lovely. Dark of complexion, she exuded a smoky sensuality that seemed older than her years. She wasn’t tall, but was very well proportioned. She was long of leg, narrow of waist, with smoothly round hips and a smallish, but clearly female, bottom. Her breasts, when they came to rest, were appropriate to her body; petite, but ample: full, proud, and soft. The nipple that topped them was large, the size of a silver dollar, the dark areola dotted with tiny bumps. The nubs protruded a full quarter inch and were thick and firm. Her shoulders had narrowed, but did not round. They were strong.

His eyes travelled up, drinking in the graceful swans neck…and upward still. Her green eyes like stained glass, flecked with gold, rested in a face that reminded him of Barcelona. She boasted high cheekbones, full lips, and a jaw that was strong and yet still managed a profound femininity. Above those stunning eyes, narrow eyebrows arched prettily. There was no obvious attempt at artifice, no shaping or penciling, just a graceful curve. Her hair was a rich ebony that seemed to shimmer with black pearl-like luster. She shone with a beauty so natural it could have properly belonged to an earth angel. She looked something like her sister…but concentrated.

When he dreamed of a woman, this was the one he saw.

He knew she burned for him.

The woman moaned, her mind fogged with both lust and an overwhelming desire to heal, nurture and comfort. Slowly and carefully she rose, flowing toward the man. Then, she stopped. She could barely think, and did not think at all of her changed condition. She knew only that she must master herself. She must offer him more than just a sexual release. She must bring him to her. So, with an exercise of sheer will, despite her rampant desire, she stopped. He must come the final few feet to embrace her.

To the Alpha’s vast surprise, he did as she wanted; closing the gap between them. Taking the girl into his arms was a joy the like of which he had not felt in an age. She lifted her lips to his, expecting a kiss. He gave her what she wanted; kissing her deeply. It had been long since any woman had seen past his erection. His kiss was out of practice; but he was Alpha. Pleasing women came naturally to him. And, if pleasing this one required he be adept at kissing, he would be better than any man who ever lived. And he was.

His erection throbbed painfully as they broke the connection. “On your hands and knees,” he commanded.

She refused! Instead, she let her mouth roam…kissing his neck and shoulders, the tiny nipples on his chest. How could a woman in the throes of the hunger disobey? He could not imagine it.

“I am partner, not slave,” she whispered, managing to voice the thought despite the hunger-induced delirium of her mind.

Her hand wrapped around his genitals as she kissed his chest. She began to caress his already throbbing member.

His own hunger now burst forth. He roared his pleasure. It was more than satisfaction with her form; it was admiration for her being. She dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth. If any trace of her sister remained, she did not taste it. The only flavor she noticed she knew to be him. He lost his fabled control over his own body, and came into her waiting mouth, his semen geysering from him. She accepted it, swallowing as much as she could…the rest seeping from the corners of her mouth to run down her chin.

She had tasted him. He knew he must taste her in return. Gently, he settled her on her back, whispering to her that she completed him. His hands gently cupped her breasts. He kissed her mouth, tasting a remnant of himself on her lips; and not caring. His lips roamed her, kissing eyelids, her temples, her ears and her neck; pausing at a spot on her throat where he found that kisses made her tremble. All thought save her pleasure vanished from his consciousness. His lips moved downward still.

The hunger raged in her, fogging her mind. Each touch he gave her sent waves of electricity through her body. Her spine was charged with current and lightning arced between the nipples that sat atop the mounds of her breasts. The feeling multiplied a hundred fold as she felt his mouth engulf her distended nipple, pulling gently at it with his lips, and nipping at the base. His tongue explored her areola, as though he would count every bump that pebbled it. And still his head moved downward; to kiss bellybutton, mons, and thigh. He nipped and nibbled at the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, from just above the knee, working back toward the center of her womanhood.
Finally, he placed his kisses upon her sex. Any sense of self that might have remained vanished in her. She disappeared completely into her pleasure. His tongue ran along the ridge of her pussy…then penetrated its petals, opening her, and darting inside.

A low sound of pleasure escaped her full lips, as she parted her legs further so that he could more easily reach her. Upwards went his attentions. Her juices flowed, offering him nectar sweetened with the flavor that was unmistakably her. She was startled by a girlish moan when, at last, he reached her bud of pleasure. He rested there, teasing, taunting…then suckling.

His attentions had the desired effect. A few moments later the tidal wave of climax flooded over her. She felt she would drown in it, the victim of concentrated delight. It buffeted her, and she was carried along by the tide; flotsam riding the wave that engulfed her being. Slowly, the waters began to recede.

At that moment her eyes opened to see his face above her own. He was between her legs; the tip of his cock poised at her entrance.

“Fill me,” she said.

He did.

She hissed as her maidenhead tore. The man had violated one of his basic rules. He had taken a virgin.

He was huge, and she was newly deflowered. She should have felt nothing but discomfort. But somehow, it was not so. Whatever had changed her, had built her for this moment. Her clitoris was near the entrance of her pussy and was in near constant contact with his cock. Each stroke was bliss for them both. She looked at his face, and read well the joy she gave him. It was no less than that which she received. Nothing that had ever happened to her compared to this. He was hers. He was bliss. Together they climaxed again. She passed into unconsciousness.