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From: Incest Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
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Subject: Heaven (mf ff sp en)
Date: Thu, 11 Jan 2007 16:12:10 -0800
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/heav.html
Heaven
by Luke
Dead. It didn't seem right. Sam thought he'd heard the
doctor, distantly, pronounce him dead. Had it been a heart
attack? For sure, they'd blame it on smoking. Or lack of
exercise. Or diet. Which reminded him he was hungry -
wouldn't cold shrimp and a beer taste good now!
And when was "now" if he was dead? Where was he?
"Sam. Sam. Open your eyes. You've had a rough time but
it's all okay now," a voice reassured him. "Come on, Sam,
it's okay."
Sam opened his eyes. A man's face, looking a little
concerned and a little bored.
"Anything to eat around here?" Sam asked.
The guy laughed. "Sure. And it's not fattening. And, it
can't kill you."
"You mean, you can't mean..." Sam didn't know how to say
it. "You mean it's true?" He felt foolish.
"Look, I could say you're back in the hospital, which you
might believe for a while, or that you've been kidnapped by
aliens, which you might believe for even longer, but I'm
not that kind of guy." The man drew up. "I'm a greeter
for the afterlife."
Sam was numb. He sort of half-listened as the fellow
explained more than he wanted to know about the afterlife.
Where to stay, how to order things from catalogues, local
customs such as how to politely dispose of the food you'd
just eaten, who to talk to, how to tell where you were, and
what to do at "night."
Sam had a question. "I don't see any sun. Does it get
dark?"
"Ah, no. We in this area just call it night. We agree to
sort of an eight hour quiet period in every twenty-four
hours. It's something we're used to so... we keep it up,"
the guy explained. "That's when we read, have sex -
usually - and write our stories."
"Sex?"
"Yes, and sometimes lots of it, but that's an individual
matter," the man almost smirked.
"If fact, it's almost night time now, and I'd like to get
down to a little local meeting place to see if I can't
arrange something for myself - and you too, if you're
inclined." The man started off to the right.
Sam followed. "Did you lead an active night life on
earth?"
"No. Well, not like that. My wife and I had a great
relationship. Very active. But now I'm here and she's
there, happily remarried, by the way. So I like some
companionship, and there are three ladies I see more or
less regularly. I hoping to meet one of them tonight, if
someone else doesn't shag her first."
Sam chuckled. He was beginning to like this place.
The fellow's friend was waiting for him. True to his word,
he introduced Sam to a woman before he left, explaining to
her that Sam had just arrived.
"I'm Marilyn," she announced. "Uh, did he explain that we
sometimes pair off at night?"
Sam cleared his throat, which seemed to be coated with
moss. "Yes."
Marilyn looked at him. Sam's fingers nervously touched his
face. "Sam, are you worried about this?"
After Sam confessed his unease, his concern about whether
this was adultery, his excitement, he felt a lot better.
He felt in control. He felt horny.
Marilyn snuggled against him. "I like it when a man takes
charge," she whispered. Sam put his arm around her and
squeezed firmly and began to kiss her face.
"Makes me feel like a little girl," Marilyn chirped. Sam
began to stroke her breasts as he lightly licked near her
eyes.
"A bad little girl," Marilyn panted. Bells went off in
Sam's head, alarms left by a hundred spanking stories.
"Bad little girls get spanked," he said automatically. His
hand went to her behind.
"Yes. I deserve it," Marilyn simpered, wriggling into his
hand.
Sam wanted to turn her over, lift her skirt, fondle her
ass, spank her, then fuck her. He'd daydreamed about this
all his life, but never done it. An upturned bottom on his
lap. Now, it was Heaven at last!
Sam pushed Marilyn down over his lap. He raised her skirt,
seeing the black panties, garter belt, and mesh stockings
through a red haze.
Marilyn raised her rump and Sam slowly pulled down her
panties to her knees. "How many do I get, big boy?" asked
Marilyn.
"Let's see," mused Sam. his fingers running under the
garter straps. "I think twenty for a warm-up. You count -
or else."
Marilyn breathed quickly. "Do you hit hard?"
"Very heavy. But now it's just a starter, just to give you
an idea what happens to bad girls," Sam put a leer in his
voice.
"Okay, I'm ready," announced Marilyn, raising her ass a
bit, her crack a foot from his face.
Sam was ready, too, his cock pushing up into her, the blood
surging into his hand. What he'd always wanted. Now he'd
do it!
But he couldn't.
Sam just couldn't.
Sensing his hesitation, Marilyn urged him on: "It's okay.
I used to play this game a lot with my boyfriends."
Sam just couldn't. He froze.
"Sam, honey, didn't you ever spank anybody?"
"Well, no. I tried to talk my wife into it once, but she
said no," Sam answered.
"Oh, that explains it," said Marilyn.
"That explains it?"
"Yeh."
Frustrated, Sam wanted to hit her. "How does it explain
it?"
"You can't do what you haven't done." Seeing his
puzzlement, Marilyn elaborated "If you didn't do it during
life, you can't do it here. That's the rule."
"You mean, that because I went along with my wife's
resistance to spanking, I get frustrated for all eternity?
That's not fair!" Sam felt vastly put upon.
"That's just the way it is. The only place it's different
is Down There, where nobody can do what they did in life,
they all have to do it differently." Marilyn sat up. She
paused, then said "Well, if we're not going to..."
"Wait a second, just wait a second," said Sam. "You've
been spanked in your life, so why can't I spank you? Does
everything take two experienced people?"
Marilyn frowned. "I'm not sure. I know that I can only
get spanked by a guy who has done it before. But some of
my friends, the ones that had long relationships - very
loving and sharing, you know? - they say one can teach the
other. But I wouldn't know. Say, can't we go back to the
meeting place?"
Sam morosely agreed. They went back. Marilyn tried to
cheer him up with a joke, but it didn't work. Then she
brightened. "Hey Sam, do you like to watch?" Marilyn
asked.
"Probably," said Sam, "but I've never done it, so I
couldn't anyway." Self-pity weighed down his heart.
"No porn movies? Come on, lots of guys see porn movies."
Marilyn looked skeptical.
"Porn, yes, but does...sure, it must. " Sam was definitely
perking up, in several ways. "I can see this 'experience'
thing is a little tricky."
As they entered, Marilyn headed for a door to a back room.
Once in, Sam found himself one of an audience of twelve on
chairs and around the walls, watching a couple on the bed.
Or, rather, the woman was stretched out on the bed, arms
tied at the four corners, and the man stood next to her,
stroking her back. Then he reached behind the bed and
lifted a soft flogger. He used it to stroke from her neck
to her feet, then he began striking her gently with it,
while whispering in her ear.
The woman began to hum or moan - something in between. The
man massaged her calves, then began flogging again, a
little harder this time. He stopped hitting in order to
kiss and bite her asscheeks, finishing with a tongue tease
of her rim. When she began pushing her ass back to him, he
got up and wove the flogger down her back and legs, then
whipped it quickly on her ass. He continued, alternating
soft strokes with blows. Her moans got louder.
After about five minutes of watching the man slowly make
love to the woman, Sam got restless. He had a woody and
nothing to do with it. He didn't want to wank off here in
public.
Marilyn, who'd been covertly rubbing her nipple, asked
"Want me to help with that?" Sam nodded. Her hand went to
his cock. Sam worked his fingers to her crotch. Still
watching the couple, they rubbed. To Sam's surprise,
Marilyn came first. She must have been really turned on.
Sam didn't stop, instead moving his fingers back from her
clit to the labia and easing up on the pressure when he
stroked. In a minute, Marilyn resumed pumping him and
wriggling her hips. Still watching the couple (the man was
penetrating the woman with some object), they climaxed
quietly.
Temporary relief, Sam thought. Ignoring the scene in front
of him - which would have been enough to charge him up
again during his life - he brooded about being unable to
live out his fantasies.
Marilyn, recovered from her orgasm, smiled at Sam and
wandered over to an unattached man. She looked up, batted
her eyes, and asked if he wanted to take care of a little
girl.
Sam went back to brooding. When he looked up, everyone was
gone, except the couple who had put on the show.
"Sorry we couldn't do much for you," the man called out.
"Usually, people get off watching us, which we enjoy."
"No," replied Sam, "it's my fault. I'm just preoccupied
with the business of not doing anything new. Tell me,
don't you find it depressing to repeat everything?"
"It's not exactly like that," the woman spoke up. "Things
are always a little different. They always were. A
different mood, a faster tempo, a more varied touch...it's
not the same two nights in a row."
"You do this every night?" Sam asked.
"About," the man replied. "I should explain that we never
performed before a live audience in life. I once made a
video of my wife, and she would service other men and tell
me about it, but we never did anything like this. Of
course, I don't know everything - she still occasionally
springs surprises on me after one hundred years!"
Sam went stiff. "Surprises?"
The woman chortled. "My little closet. They are sort of
like special clothes I wear for events. I like to change
things around, to keep him on his toes." She leaned into
her husband with affection.
"She must have done a lot more than I ever knew about,"
said the man. "I probably should be mad, but I'm actually
grateful. Could be dull here otherwise. Same stuff over
and over."
"But I thought it had to be stuff you'd done before, both
of you." Sam hoped for the right reply.
"It does, usually," said the wife. "But what is it that
you've 'done before'? In our case, variety was a constant.
We always changed things around during our lives, so we're
just doing the same now."
All of a sudden, Sam was lonely for his wife Jean.
Thinking of her face, the way she moved, her slow smile
made him ache. He wanted to see her.
"Is there some way I can see how my wife is doing in life?"
Sam inquired.
"Oh my yes," the woman said. "Just concentrate on her,
relax your mind and focus on her, and you'll see what she's
doing. For most people, it works right away. If not, try
sort of praying to her. Well, we'll be going now."
"Right. Nice to meet you. Hope to see you again
sometime." Sam waved good-bye.
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/heav.html