The Werewolf - Sex Stories

The Werewolf

... luster, as if tarnished a bit around the edges. Once dressed they lingered a few minutes, Jess-Belle twining her fingers around Billy-Ben's. "You'll come back to me, won't you Billy? You'll come back again next full moon?" Billy-Ben pondered for a moment, and then he just nodded. Jess-Belle favored him with a quick kiss and left with the taste of his smooth young lips on hers. The walk back took longer than the walk out on account of she was sore. She didn't bother to walk softly or cover her tracks this time. She remembered the words of the song her old aunt used to sing on nights like this: "The werewolf, the werewolf, comes stepping along. He don't even break the branches where he's gone..." The cottage porch creaked as she reached for the door latch, and she paused. Something was moving off in the woods again. She heard the faint padding of a foot on loose ground. She felt--or thought she felt--eyes on the back of her head and imagined turning around and seeing those eyes, and the face they belonged to. Had it been watching her all along? Did it know what she'd done? Her hand trembled... She darted inside and ran the lock home. She pressed her ear to the door, but all she could hear was the thudding of her own heart. She teased a curtain aside and looked out. Nothing was there, of course. But there was a place where some branches were swaying, as if something ...

... had been there only a moment ago-- It was the wind Jess-Belle decided. Surely it was just the wind? None of the other branches were moving, but that didn't mean she couldn't believe it. Still, she double-checked the locks on the doors and all the windows, and only once satisfied that they were secure did she go to bed. She didn't bother to undress or even take off her boots. She must have tracked forest dirt and pine needles all through the house, but she'd clean up in the morning. For now she lay on the top covers, curled around the empty spot on the other side of the mattress. She traced the dent of a head that wasn't on the pillow and thought. The curtains were drawn but the moonlight got in anyway. There was no keeping it out on a night like this. She hoped Billy-Ben got home without being caught. He was too young for all this, she knew. Not just too young to be with her but too young for all these secrets. She felt guilty for putting him up to it. But he's a grown man, she reminded herself, or close enough. He can make up his own mind. She rolled over. She never could sleep on nights like this. What she'd told Billy-Ben was true: Sometimes she really did hear something howling at the moon, something sad and lost and dangerous. What she hadn't told him was that it wasn't out there in the forest she heard it. It was the sound her own heart made. And it scared her.