Adult content. Not intended for persons under the age of eighteen.

Midnight
Anida Adler

Jamie usually liked graveyards. Especially old ones, and this one was old all right. She loved wandering among the headstones, reading the inscriptions and trying to picture the lives that had their fullstop here. She didn’t mind the dead beneath her feet, felt at one with their histories, their long-forgotten loves and regrets.

It was strange how the same benign vibes took on a more cloying character when the sun wasn’t there to warm them. As if they congealed and got sticky, lost their sweet nostalgia. The yew tree’s welcome shade was now a dark blanket over the ground, leaves’ shapes etched in moonshadow on the graves. They scratched the ground like fingers, as if protesting the ended lives down there.

Jamie shuddered, turned the shudder into a shrug to rid herself of her fanciful fears. For all her belief in the supernatural, she was at heart a pragmatist. Why would any of the good people buried here, even if they were able to rise, mean her harm?

“Ridiculous,” she muttered and straightened her back. “Where was I now?” The sound of her voice in the silence was reassuring. “Um, seven. Eight, nine, ten…” she counted the stones as she passed them. At seventeen, she stopped and turned ninety degrees. She’d measured that afternoon where the exact centre of the graveyard was. Two rows on, and she was there. She stopped.

“This is it,” she said quietly. Only the rustle of wind in the yew tree answered her. The beat of her heart played bass to the symphony of leafy whispers. Jamie slipped a hand into her jeans pocket and pulled out a glass vial. She checked her watch. Her timing had been perfect. It was one minute before midnight. Close enough, if her great-aunt was to be believed.

She took a deep breath, savouring the aroma of damp grass and earth, then lifted her hand and threw the vial on the ground.

Nothing happened. She let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d held and frowned, then bent over and fumbled for the vial in the darkness. “Great.” It hadn’t broken. Jaimie took a guilty step closer to the grave on her left. “Sure, Jamie, don’t bring your penlight,” she berated herself. “You won’t need it on a full moon night. Stuuuupid.”

Again she lifted the vial above her head and this time threw it at the gravestone. It smashed with a gratifying tinkle. Jamie gave a satisfied nod, then remembered what her great-aunt had said would happen when the vial broke and lost her smug smile. She waited. And waited. Nothing happened.

“Ah, well,” she said to herself. “It was worth a try.” She turned to leave and bumped straight into something solid.

Big hands closed over her upper arms and stopped her from stepping back. Jamie suppressed a yelp, but she could do nothing about the shiver that shook her body. “H-hello.”

The bulky shape said nothing. He also didn’t let go of her. Jamie breathed in the scent of sea and sand. Just when she thought she would scream simply to break the tension, he spoke.

“Finally.” His voice was like dark chocolate, like an intimate caress, and Jamie felt her long neglected pussy flush with heat. “I was wondering when you’d call me.”

“You knew I’d do this? You knew I’d go to my aunt for… for…”

He chuckled, pulled her close to him. Jamie wanted to feel odd about the embrace - he was, after all, a stranger to her - but it felt as if she belonged there against his chest, as if she’d known him forever and made love to him a thousand times. She rested her ear against his button-down shirt and let the sound of his steady heartbeat calm her own.

“Yes,” he said. “I knew. You took your sweet time about it, though.” His arms closed around her. “I’m hungry. Very hungry.” One hand travelled down to her arse and cupped one cheek, pulled her hips against his so she could feel precisely how hungry he was. The other hand slid to her hips, then across her belly and up to her breast.

“Hey, hang on, wait, um… what’s your name?” She could hardly find the elusive words to make a sentence through the flood of lust in her brain.

“Steffan,” he replied, then tipped her chin up with one finger and tasted her lips as if they were sweet wine. Delicate, slow touches to the corners of her mouth ignited a fire in her womb. She closed her eyes and ran her hands over his hard body, his tight arse encased in linen trousers that hid nothing of the well-developed muscles under the fabric.

Steffan caught one wrist and moved her searching hand to his crotch. She closed her fingers over his erection, stroked him through his trousers and revelled in the moan of pleasure she drew from him.

“I have to have you,” he murmured. “Now. Right now.”

Reality returned with a splash. “We’re in a graveyard!”

“No peeping toms, then.”

Jamie fought her own inclination to bend over the nearest gravestone and instead pushed against his chest. “We can’t. It wouldn’t be right. My car is just by the gate, we can be at my house in ten minutes.”

Steffan dipped his head, pressed his mouth to hers and teased her lips with his tongue. She opened for him, her resolve to go home dissolving like sugar in hot tea. Just as she started fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, he stepped back. “Your house then. Where is your car?”

They picked their way to the squeaky old gate, Jamie’s legs feeling like jelly. Every step she took rubbed the seam of her jeans against her clit. She thanked her lucky stars she’d thought of buying a thong and matching lacy bra that afternoon, just in case her crazy plan worked.

How she drove them home without crashing would forever be a mystery to her. Steffan’s hand rested on her thigh, his fingers brushed over her tingling flesh and she wished he was touching naked skin. He gaped at the passing buildings and lights.

“Do you have electricity,” she asked, “where you come from?”

“We have something similar. But the shapes and colours are all different here.”

She parked her car in its space in front of her ground floor apartment. Steffan kept his hands stuffed in his pockets as she unlocked her front door. Melody came trotting to Jamie's feet as soon as she stepped inside, tail high and miaow ready. She froze, turned and darted into the kitchen when she saw they had a visitor.

“Ah, that’s Melody,” Jamie said. Steffan closed the door behind them softly. She realised she clutched her keys in a death grip and hung them on their hook beside the door, brushing against him. “She’ll, um, she’ll probably come back in again to…”

He cut off her nervous sentence in the best possible way, gently kissing her words away. Jamie forgot about the cat, about everything except the core of tingling in her womb that radiated sparks of awareness to the rest of her body. She lifted her hands to Steffan’s chest, lay her palms flat on the hard muscle and simply enjoyed the feel of him, his fresh smell of sand and waves.

As his arms closed around her, she found his shirt buttons and started undoing them. He moved his kisses to her neck, tasted her skin as if he savoured every nuance of what she was. Her pussy was dripping wet, she felt the dampness seep into her jeans.

He stepped back to pull off his shirt and she stopped breathing. Shaggy, dark brown curls, a face that looked as if it was used to smiling and eyes that twinkled blue in the light spilling into the foyer from her sitting room. He toed off his loafers and pushed them aside with his foot. With his gaze locked on hers, he undid his leather belt, the buttons of his crotch, then let his loose-fitting trousers drop to the floor.

No underwear. Jamie’s heartbeat stumbled at the sight of his cock. It wasn’t all that long, but it was thick. “Your turn,” he said, his voice husky.

Reality dawned on her then. She was acting like a sex-starved hussy with a complete stranger. Why did the thought bring an increased tightness to her pussy, a burst of pleasure to her brain?

“Hmmm. I think perhaps I should help.” Steffan stepped from his trousers on the floor and reached for her tee shirt. He pulled it from her jeans and she lifted her arms to let him pull it over her head. What did he think of her straight blonde bob? She didn’t think of attracting men when she went to the hairdresser, just practicality. Would he like the bra she’d bought? And her jeans were a little loose on her, she should have…

“Beautiful.”

When had she closed her eyes? She opened them to see Steffan staring at her breasts, raw desire etched on his face. As if handling something sacred, he cupped her breasts. They fit his hands as if they’d been made for him. His thumbs stroked her hard nipples, then his hands went to her belt and undid the buckle. The button. The zip.

“We’ll have to get your shoes off first,” he said.

“Oh, I can… oh!”

He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the sitting room, put her down on her couch. Could he smell the musk of her arousal as he knelt to take her shoes off? She lifted her hips to free her jeans when he pulled them off. He put them aside, then stroked her legs from the ankles up, slowing his hands’ journey as they travelled up her inner thighs. Jamie’s breathing quickened, turned into short gasps. Her clit felt as if every nerve ending in her body had travelled to her pussy and converged in that hooded nub.

His fingers brushed against her labia and she opened her legs wider. With agonising slowness, he traced the line of her thong to her thighs, brushing over her pussy lips with his thumbs.

“So ready,” he whispered. Then he pulled her thong off and Jamie again lifted her hips to ease his task. Steffan tossed the little garment aside and, without giving her time to think, lowered his head to taste her juices.

The touch of his tongue was enough to bring her to the edge of orgasm. He licked her clit gently. She wanted to grasp his head, fork her fingers into his thick hair, but he caught her wrists and spread her arms, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed. All she could do was lift her hips to meet his probing tongue, teasing, coaxing her body to breaking point. The tingling in her womb contracted to the size of a fist, then for a moment Jamie froze.

The tingling exploded inside her, washed through every muscle, every sinew and vein. She opened her eyes when the pleasure subsided, to see Steffan stare at her with a look very similar to the one her cat wore when it had convinced her to feed it some tasty morsel.

Jamie swallowed. "That was..."

"...not all of it," Steffan finished her sentence. He grasped her ankles and pulled, sliding her off the overstuffed, puffy couch and onto the carpet. The rough fibres of the carpet abraded her arse, the sensation somehow erotic. When he had her on her back, he crawled over her, pinned her wrists to the floor and touched her needy pussy with the tip of his cock. "Ready?"

"Very."

He slowly eased his thick penis into her shaft. Jamie groaned as her flesh stretched to take him. The sensation was overwhelming, she felt so full, and still his whole length wasn't inside her. Millimetre by millimetre he entered her body, until his rough pubic curls brushed against her clit. All in. All of that delicious, thick, hard cock inside her and Jamie wanted this moment to last forever.

He didn't withdraw, instead kept her filled, pumped into her in a slow rhythm that rubbed his flesh against her pussy, her clit, stirring that intense tingling in her pelvis back to life. Now it was coupled with the gift of his cock stretching her open, a welcome invasion that blew thoughts from her mind like dandelion seeds.

Further and further this fullness spread through her body, as if the pleasure he gave her wakened every cell and set it abuzz. It was too much, too intense.

And at the point she thought she couldn't bear this any longer and still keep her sanity, the buzzing stopped, the fullness withdrew in a heartbeat to again concentrate in her pussy before it erupted outward in shock waves that rippled through her whole body.

She felt Steffan’s thrusts increase in urgency, his movements in rhythm with the waves of her release until he groaned and sheathed his cock deep in her body. The pulsing of his climax renewed the intensity of her pleasure and she cried out with him, clung to him until the ecstasy subsided. Energy seeped from her body like water through sand, and she was left limp and sated, an edge of sorrow lining her contentment.

He rolled off her, but took her with him so she lay on top of his body, her head on his shoulder. His cock softened and slipped from her pussy. Lethargy overtook Jamie then. She stirred to get up, but he wrapped his arms around her.

“Don’t go. I like being your bed.”

She smiled, but couldn’t find a laugh for his little joke. “How much longer can you stay?”

“Not long tonight, I’m afraid.” His voice was a bass rumble in his chest. She swallowed against the tears that wanted to overwhelm her.

Steffan stroked her hair back from her face. “May I ask why you chose to do this? You’re such a beautiful woman, you have such fire in your soul. Why don’t you have a man in your life to take care of this need?”

“I’ve tried that. I’m too independent. I love being on my own, doing my own thing. Living with someone just isn’t something I can do.”

“And so you chose to call me?”

“Yes.” She could hardly get the word out, she felt so drowsy. Jamie closed her eyes and listened to the hypnotic rhythm of Steffan’s heartbeat. “Because for all my independence, I really need sex. And toys just don’t always do it for me. So I thought… just this once… it would be worth it…”

Slumber overtook her.

When daylight teased her eyes open, Jamie was alone in her bed, in her bedroom, warm under the covers. She allowed the tears to spill then, for a sand-and-sea scent commingled with the heady fragrance of arousal, for a hard, warm body wrapped around and filling her own. She’d never have that again. Coupling with Steffan was an act of gathering fuel for future fantasies. Her great-aunt could give her only one glass vial.

Her day passed in dreary listlessness. She went through the motions of shopping and reading, found herself staring at the page without absorbing the words. Had it been worth it? She asked herself the question a thousand times, and the answer remained an empathic Yes!

Night fell at last and she could crawl into bed. The memories of midnight, of the hours that followed, crept past her defences and played through her mind once more. Her pussy needed little encouragement to remember the pleasure, to revive that tingling need and ask for more. Juices slicked her labia soon, the memory of fucking Steffan so vivid she could breathe the wholesome smell of him. She didn’t need to open her eyes to find the drawer of her bedside table, where her vibrator waited.

Strong fingers closed over her wrist and her eyes flew open. A scream died in her throat when she recognised the silhouette etched against the drawn curtains, glowing from the street light shining outside.

“Steffan! How… what… I didn’t break another vial!”

“What do you mean?” He ran his fingers up her arm and Jamie struggled to find her voice in the storm of surprise and joy in her mind.

“My great-aunt could only give me one glass vial. I could only call you once, I’m not supposed to ever see you again!”

He chuckled, stroked his hand over her shoulder and wrapped his fingers around the back of her head. “Dear, sweet Jamie, did you not know you needed only one vial? One call only, at midnight, in the very centre of a graveyard, and I’m yours for life.” He leaned over to kiss her, teased her lips open with his tongue and dipped into her mouth, mimicing the act she dearly hoped he’d soon indulge in.

Steffan broke the kiss and said: “I live my life in my world, you live your life in yours. But everytime you need me,” he pecked another kiss on her cheek, “I’ll be here.” A kiss on her chin, he pushed the covers down to expose her naked body in the dim light. “And here.” A kiss to her throat, and Jamie tilted her head back. “Here… here…” His kisses travelled down between her breasts, over her belly. “And most of all, here.”

“Yes,” Jamie whispered and opened her thighs to give him better access to her wet, ready pussy. A clock struck midnight in the darkness far away.