The Werewolf - Sex Stories

The Werewolf

... forest and up the hillside, to the place where the trees broke and the clover grew in as soft as a feather bed. She flopped down on it just like she'd done as a little girl and looked at the night sky. The moon was like a big yellow eye. It was strange to think she'd never seen it this way before. What have you been up to on nights like this, she wondered, when I haven't been around? Have you been keeping secrets? A shadow fell over Jess-Belle at the same time a hand touched her shoulder. She grabbed the arm and rolled over, yanking the intruder off his feet, and for a second the two of them rolled down the grade together, one tumbling over the other. When they landed Jess-Belle was on bottom, chest heaving from the struggle, and on top of her was a surprised young man--barely more than a boy--whose unruly blond hair was dotted with clover leaves from the fall. He held up one hand in a gesture of truce. "It's me!" said Billy-Ben. "I know." "Then why'd you pull me off my feet?" "You scared me. You had it coming." For a second they stayed like that, with Billy-Ben sprawled on top. His other hand had landed just under her left breast. When he noticed it he blushed and rolled over, dusting off his shirt and breeches. Jess-Belle propped herself up on one arm and looked at him. In the moonlight he looked even younger than he was. She saw him swallow hard before he spoke. "I'm sorry I snuck up on you Mrs. T--" "Call me Jess-Belle. Not Mrs. Turner." "Jess-Belle," Billy-Ben said. ...

... "Right. I'm I didn't mean to scare you." "Yes you did," Jess-Belle said. Then she snuggled up to his side. He jumped as if a bee had stung him. "You knew just what you were doing." "Reckon I did," he said, then went quiet. From the top of the hill they could see almost the entire valley and, distantly, the few faint lights of the town. Everything was still, as if the night was holding its breath. Jess-Belle slipped her hand into Billy-Ben's. "Did you make it out okay?" said Billy-Ben. "I was worried..." "About the werewolf?" She snarled, then giggled like a schoolgirl. "'Course not," said Billy-Ben, sounding almost defensive. "I meant did you have any trouble with Mr. Turner?" "Mr. Turner is never home on Full Moon Night." Billy-Ben blinked. "Why?" "He's the werewolf." Jess-Belle looked Billy-Ben in the eyes. She held the look as long as she could before cracking up. Snorting between giggles she said, "I'm just teasing, Billy. It's because he closes the shop in the town so late and he doesn't want to walk all the way home after sundown on nights like this. You know how folks are: superstitious." She laid her head on his shoulder again. "There's no real werewolf. That's an old folk's story." "'I know that," Billy-Ben said, but there was a tremor in his voice that suggested relief. "I wouldn't be out here if I believed, would I?" He dared give her body a little squeeze, as if to prove it. "But Mr. Turner must believe it, if he doesn't want to walk home on Full Moon Night," ...