The Gift

The Gift

By

Claude Truveau

The second time it happened she had her arms straight against the back of the bench. Her naked bottom was extended towards me and her back was arched in a particularly flexible position. Her black jogging shorts were at her ankles. I had my two hands on her breasts and was gripping hard through her tee shirt. I had entered her from behind, her slick pussy hungry for my long, hard cock. I pounded away, lost in the immersion, the thrill, the energy, the sex. Yes, it was all about the sex.

Let me go back a bit here to explain. This is only a piece of the pie, so to speak. At the exact moment I was in the middle of fucking the female jogger, I was hellbent to attempt to understand what was going on. And answers were coming slowly if at all. So, I returned to fucking. What's a feller to do?

Suffice to say I have a very active imagination. I also have a very active sex life. However, that too is held solely within my imagination. Some might say our entire lives are built upon imagination. But this isn't a metaphorical exploration. This might be hell. But for the moment, it's somewhat like Eden.

A few stats about me in addition to my cravings. I'm 42, a loan officer at a large banking institution, single, and not really looking for a long-term thing. This is directly related to being in my head so much. I could have a disorder. Or several.

The first time it happened I was walking on a trail near my home. A beautiful, tree lined, dirt path that skirts along the ocean. About midway on this loop, it crosses a 70-foot bridge over a drying creek bed. It's the middle of summer and it's hot. I came upon the bridge and there were four women standing halfway across. Probably all of them were in their mid-50's. I'm a very congenial and friendly person, especially when I'm walking. I say hello to everyone. It's my thing. I give the group a hearty salutation. They are trying to take a selfie. One of them asks me if I'll take their picture. I say, "Whatever you need." It's all very joyful and fun. I snap 4 photos and hand back the phone. We say our goodbyes and I continued my walk, leaving them and the bridge behind.

As I hit the dirt trail again, I have a mild fantasy idea that comes to my mind. This isn't uncommon. I have fun within my own personal experiences as a general rule of thumb. It breaks up long walks. I think, "Wouldn't it be funny if all four of the women were topless, surrounding me, and sucking me off one after another?" I laugh at my fervent mind, close my eyes, recenter myself, and open them.

I find myself back on the bridge. The four women are standing in a circle around me, waiting. It's striking. They are fully clothed. They are all smiling, staring at me. I look down and I'm fully clothed. I'm also hard, erect as a skyscraper. My tip is peaking out of the top of my pants. My subsequent actions were not seemingly of my own accord, but what does that really matter? In retrospect, my actions didn't have any consequences attached either. Well, that is probably a sentiment up for debate.

I say, "Off with your shirts and bras." They do what I say. "Dance around me like fairies or nymphs, or Beyonce show girls." I'm in the middle of them now, titties bouncing, stomachs bouncing, thighs bouncing. I mean, in a strange way it was very satisfying. They were all smiling and laughing, and pointing at my bulge. They are going round and round. I'm getting dizzy.

"Okay, ladies. I'm going to need each of you, one at a time, to suck my dick. I'm pulling it out now for your desire and pleasure." I look down and my cock is huge. Staunch and impressive. I'm speechless. "This is definitely an altered universe," I say within my head.

Each takes a good, solid turn, taking me in deep within their throats, gagging, laughing, spitting on my monster organ. It's a god damn suck off party on the bridge. Birds are singing, we're somewhat in a shady spot, it's summertime. Could it be any better?

"Okay, which one of you wants to finish the job? Let me see a show of hands." All four have a hand up.

"I have a trivia question. Whoever answers first wins the prize of having me cum in their mouth, on their titties, and everywhere else my spluge travels." They are all rapt with attention. Topless middle age beauty queens, ready for more.

"Name the 4 presidents on Mt Rushmore. Ah, I see the brunette over there with her hands in a prayer posture. Do you have a guess?"

"Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, Lincoln."

"Yes, we have a winner. Get that pretty face over here." She does not disappoint. She takes me in, fondles my balls, puts a finger up my ass, and even does a prostate milking. I don't even know what a prostate milking is. I think of a dairy farm. And then I cum. I hit the back of her throat, and when I pull out, I'm all over her chin, chest, and stomach. I cum so much it's like a vanilla pudding commercial. Where's Gary Coleman?

"I think we're done here," I state plainly. They put their bras on, shirts on, laughing and carrying on, like they're on a picnic. It's sex on toast to me. I add, "I'm so happy we all had such a great time. See you all down the road of life. Take care. My bitches."

I walk onward towards the end of the bridge. I look to the heavens. I close my eyes with thanks. When I open them, I'm back on the trail well past the bridge. I look back and there are the four women, still gathered, taking pictures of each other, having fun, and if I'm not mistaken one of them waves at me. I look down at my crotch. Nothing untoward happening there. And I feel like I just walked across a bridge. This is an odd duck for sure. Unexplainable.

I spent the better part of the afternoon thinking fantasy after fantasy after passing women, men, and, well, to be politically correct, people. I came up with the most inane and dark concepts and to each one I closed my eyes and opened them. And nothing happened. "What the fuck?"

Back to the female jogger, or as I like to say, "The second time it happened."

It's the next day. I like to take long morning walks. I have a route that circles the town, goes over a freeway, around a campus, down a bike path, alongside a river. I was near campus housing when I noticed a jogger coming towards me. She looked to be in her early 20's, wearing black shorts, a red tee shirt, white shoes, and a rainbow scarf. You'd probably miss her if you weren't looking for her. Like if you were in a small room with Richard Simmons.

She passes by me on my left and I of course, say hello and wave. College age women don't typically give me the time of day. Maybe they're scared? Maybe anti-social? She wasn't any different. She ignored me. I turned around and caught a sneak peek at those shorts. All I could think in response was, "Youstauffa." And with that, a fantasy was born inside my head. I closed my eyes and reopened them.

I am suddenly ten feet in front of her and she's jogging towards me. I say, "Hi sexy." And she stops.

"Hi," she exclaims, like I'm an old friend, or maybe a professor. "What cha up to handsome?"

I'm flattered. Until I realize this strange, unusual, and absolutely incredible life sustaining opportunity had reared its ugly head again. "Let's sit over there," and I point to a bench.

We are next to each other. I know what to do, or at least I think I do. "Stand up and pull those shorts down to your ankles and give me some up butt." I have her assume my position of choice on the backside of the bench. "Spread those legs baby cakes." She does. Her bush is trimmed and I am primed. Her face points to the sky. We're in the middle of a busy area of town. There is no one around.

I pull out my cock and it might be even bigger than last time. My fantasy had something to do with the ghosts of John Holmes, Ron Jeremy, Harry Reems. The other critical part of my fantasy the first and second time it happened was that I would have stamina. To be perfectly honest, I have a serious case of ED. In my fantasy life, I'm hung as a beast and I last forever. In reality, you even look at my penis during foreplay and it's over like a walk off homer.

Baby Cakes and I get it on for what seems like an eternity. I'm slapping my stomach against her butt for so long I fear sparking a burn pile. She's looking around at me, grinning, yelping, making short high-pitched screams of pleasure. And then she has a quaker of a climax. Her pussy is like Yosemite, and I'm the mountaineer. And then I cum.

"Get dressed darling. And be on your way." I watch her jog away. I close my eyes, and raise my head towards the heavens with thanks. And like the first time it happened, I reopen my eyes.

I'm back on the path, and I look behind me, and there she goes, about 100 yards away now. She doesn't appear any worse for wear. I look down at my loins and there is nothing out of place. I'm not even hard. I'm not breathless. I am once again, dumfounded.

Here are a few things I know so far. Yet, do we actually, even know, anything?

I get one episode per dayI have to consider a fantasy immediately after passing a person or peopleI'm completely in control of the fantasy from beginning to endI only need to close my eyes and open them to enter the fantasy and end the fantasy once I'm doneI retain a memory of the fantasyMy playmates retain nothing

The third time it happened was in a meeting room at work. I work for a large company and our meetings are held weekly. There were 20 people at this gathering on the second floor in a spacious conference room. It's Thursday. We were just wrapping up a finance topic. It was boring as fuck. I imagined a fantasy and I closed my eyes. When I reopened them, the game was on.

"Everyone stand up," I say. "Now, completely undress. All of your clothes off and on the conference table." They all comply without hesitation. Like mummies heading into the pyramid.

There sat a myriad of artifacts from my peers. Black loafers, slacks, skirts, pants suits, undies, and so on. It's somewhat overwhelming. "Al wears panties? Deb has padding in there? Is that a butt plug?"

I'm at the head of the table looking at all of my associates, my fellow management icons, naked, standing behind their office chairs, and waiting for my next directive.

"Everyone, turn to the right. Now put your hands on the shoulders of the person ahead of you. Perfect." I wanted music to play, and play loud. And out of nowhere, there's music.

It's a circle of nakedness. I say, "Do the Rumba." Stepping back to the corner of the room I stand and watch. And the performance begins.

It's a dancing circle of laughter, shaking booties, some leg kicking, hair tossing. I'm loving it. They're loving it. It's a wedding reception or a 50's soiree. I pull out my phone and shoot a video. "Priceless. Maybe I'll put it on Instagram." The group gyrates past me three times.

When the song ends I have them put their clothes back on. We all sit down, and when we're all settled in our usual spots, I close my eyes, look towards the heavens, and reopen them.

I hear the boss say, "That's a wrap everyone. Thank you for a great meeting. We'll see you tomorrow." And we all head out to the hallway, to our offices, and to our normal, everyday lives. Everyone, save for me. I'm living a different life. I wonder what's coming next. I have to wait until tomorrow. More will be revealed.

It's day four of the rest of my life. I headed out on my morning walk per usual. This is the fourth time it happened.

It was a struggle to manage my sex craved mind on this walk. I didn't want to find myself playing doctor with cats, or enjoying barnyard movie night with a horses and goats. I knew I only had one shot at this per day. I passed an apartment complex and looked into a sliding glass door that had the curtain drawn back. There was a young woman in the window, topless. She was putting her shirt on but was exposed to the world as she was getting dressed. I was turned on by this of course, had a natural reaction, and my latest fantasy was born. I closed my eyes.

When I reopened them, I was in her apartment. She was in bed with the covers up to her chin. I took off all my clothes. I went to her bedside and slowly pulled the covers off of her. She was wearing a pink nighty. A separate top and bottom combination. She was petite with long brown hair, sleeping peacefully.

I interrupted the serenity of the moment and said aloud, "Take off your nighty."

She opened her eyes, took one look at me and my raging hard on, standing over her, and promptly screamed. "What the fuck are you doing in my apartment, you creep. Get out."

I stood there, frozen in place. "Is this part of my fantasy?" I couldn't remember.

She picked up the phone resting on the bedside table and promptly entered 3 digits. 911. "Help," she cried. "There is a naked man in my apartment."

I closed my eyes, looked towards the heavens, and reopened them. I was still standing there, naked, in her apartment. She was still in her bed going over a thorough description of me with the operator. "He has a huge, fucking cock. Is that clear enough for you?"

I didn't need any further motivation. I scooped up my clothes, headed out the door, and ran. I was apprehended only a few blocks from the apartment. Handcuffed, tossed into the back of the police cruiser, and taken to the substation for booking. Naked, as they say, as a jailbird.

On the way to the substation, I turned my head and looked out the back window before we started driving away. I am fairly certain I saw myself on the path, walking around a bend, and out of sight.

I closed and opened my eyes a hundred times on that drive. I tried to explain to the officers about the "gift." And about my eyes. That they control the past, present, and future. And that this was all just a big misunderstanding.

Their eyes? Wide open in the front seat, as I went over the first three events that happened. Maybe that wasn't such a bright idea after being read my rights.

Fast forward three months. Let me go over what happened after I was arrested. In brief.

I was charged with indecent exposure and breaking and entering. During the subsequent trial I took the stand and gave testimony about the gift, the three situations, how I would return to the present after experiencing the fantasies, and that deep down I was a decent and caring human being. That last part, well, they could have added perjury to my list of charges.

Ultimately, I was found not guilty by reason of insanity and sentenced to three years in a mental hospital. Locked ward. When the gavel came down, I was whisked away. There wasn't anyone in the courtroom that day who wanted anything to do with me. Except my public defender. She too kept her distance at the defense table. I don't imagine that helped in the minds of the jury or the judge who sentenced me to the maximum amount of time.

The thing was, and is, I'm a changed man. I'm evil, disrespectful, self-centered. I'm a sexual deviant, unable to control my impulses. I lie and I'm aggressive, demanding, a real pain in the ass for the personnel of the facility where I'm now housed. I'm a terrible person and there doesn't appear to be anything within my power to alter the course of my existence.

I'm secured to my bed most of the time, especially whenever I'm tended to. I'm unable to navigate any relationships. I exist within a world that doesn't mesh with who I am. And to be perfectly frank, it's fine. It's my life and I'm sticking to it.

Then one morning, at breakfast time, something different happened.

I heard the door to my room being unlocked. Breakfast time. The morning attendant would be bringing in my tray and removing one of my arm restraints so that I could eat. I closed my eyes, knowing it was another day ahead. Same as all the other days. When I opened them, the world was bright and cheery.

Jorge brought my breakfast into the room and put the tray on the stand next to the bed. I smiled and said, "Good morning, Jorge." It was genuine. I was shocked. I lifted my wrist so that it was easier for him to undo the locking mechanism.

Jorge regarded me with suspicion. He asked, "How are you doing today?"

"Fine Jorge, absolutely fine. It's a lovely day. So nice to see you. Thank you for your service."

Jorge paused, set down the tray, and walked back to the door. He took a second look at me and left my room. I heard the lock turn and he was gone. I closed my eyes and thought about what had just occurred. "Am I back? Oh, thank the heavens."

I reopened my eyes, looked down at the breakfast tray and took off the cover to the plate underneath. There were scrambled eggs, two sausages, home fries, apple slices, and a mini-muffin.

I found myself getting red in the face. I struggled against the one remaining restraint. I picked up the plate and threw it at the wall to my left. Breakfast was splattered all over the wall and floor. And then I bellowed so loudly it shook the bars on the windows. "How many times do I have to say it. I hate fucking mini-muffins."

-The end