A LOVE OF VARIETY
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
Jarrett had gone to Wenn's funeral the week before and said his proper courtesies to Wenn's mother and sister, had drunk the wine and told the stories, and figured that was the end of it. He had carefully not mentioned to any of them how Wenn had followed him around like a lovesick puppy and had tried to peer at his manhood every time he dared to duck into an alley to relieve himself after a bout of drinking; that wouldn't have been seemly. But he had let them think he'd been a good friend of Wenn's who would miss him and in truth, he would miss some of that, the way Wenn was always ready to loan him some silver when he was short and not press him for repayment and was always keen to listen to him talk or just to sit quietly beside him and enjoy the evening. His passing after an unfortunate incident had indeed left a hole in Jarrett's life and he let Wenn's family think the hole was larger than it was.
On this night, the first of such, he was lying in his bed. His manhood had risen as it does when one is has barely entered his second score of years like Jarrett, and when his finances were suffering so that he had to limit his attendance at the pubs, and had little to spend on the company of men like himself. So many men either demanded payment for their services, or at least expected him to pay for their dates in whole or in part. So he had limited himself to a single excursion after work every tenday and the rest of the time he did as he did this night, he took himself in hand and pleasured himself and let that and his fantasies take the place of the man in his bed. Or his in the man's.
He had begun to stir to his passion, with the pleasure beginning to build within him and take over his concentration when he first heard it. "Jarrett? So good to see you, Jarrett?"
The voice was both familiar and strange, frightening. "Wenn?" Jarrett gasped as he let go of himself and yanked the coverlet over himself.
"No, no, don't cover yourself. Please, continue, I beg of you."
Unsure of why he did it, Jarrett complied, removing the cover from his midsection and grasping his tool again, it surged with surprising urgency and he again began to ply his hand upon it.
"Yes, Jarrett, love that huge organ, make it spray out, I need it, Jarrett, I need it this night, give it to me, give me the power of your seed!" Wenn's voice urged him.
The words of his deceased friend, far from frightening Jarrett, spurred his desire, he began to moan and grunt. And as he did, he saw the wispy smoke-like features taking form near his bed, and as his climax assaulted his senses, spraying out and over him, the form moved down to place itself within the geysers as they spewed forth, and as Jarrett ejaculated, the form took recognizable forms and features, still translucent with the colors washed out, but definitely there. Wenn, it was his ghost that had come to visit Jarrett!
Jarrett panted and gasped as his climax released him and Wenn's spirit leaned down and sucked at the puddles of jizz on Jarrett's stomach and glans. There was no sense of being touched in any of that, but Jarrett felt the vitality go out of his seed as Wenn drank it into himself, fed upon it.
Wenn rose and smiled at him then. "Jarrett. My dear, dear friend. I have returned for you."
Jarrett was genuinely puzzled at that. "Why would you do that?"
"Because, my dearest Jarrett, I have loved you for long as I have known you."
No surprise there. "I know. But you're dead now. Shouldn't you be...someplace else?" Jarrett would place high odds on Wenn ascended to the Blessed Kingdom, but the Accursed Realm was not a place he wanted to mention to his spirit directly.
"It happens this way from time to time." Wenn sat down on the bedside as if he were real, and rested a hand on Jarrett's thigh, uncomfortably familiar save that there was still no sense of being touched in reality.
"It turns out that when one is too much in balance between the two realms of afterlife, the spirit can be offered the chance to linger here for a time. So naturally, I chose to come back to spend my time with you, my dearest love. Perhaps in my death I can attain what I never could in life."
Jarrett chose his next words with care, he didn't care to turn Wenn's spirit into a malignant presence after all. "You must understand, Wenn, that my feelings for you have never gone in that direction."
"I know, but perhaps your feeling may yet ripen once I show you what I can do." Wenn went on.
"So what can you do?" Jarrett wanted to know.
"The spirit may choose what it attaches to, whether it is to a place such as a house or other special place. Some linger in hopes their violent deaths will be thus avenged by the reminder of what happened to them. Or they may simply have loved their home so much they don't want to leave it. Others remain repeating the same events over and over, again in hopes that something missing in their life may be corrected. I have attached myself to you, in hopes that you may come to feel the attraction to me I feel for you, and we may thus join in the same part of the afterlife."
"So you want me to fall in love with you?"
"And why not?" Wenn asked. "You know how much I care for you. Why shouldn't you return the feelings?"
"You..." Jarrett sought kind words again. "You were never my sort, is all. Not the kind of man I wanted for my lover."
"Ah." Wenn considered this. "So what kind of man do you want?"
"Well...."
"If you could choose any man you wanted, who would it be?" Wenn pressed him.
Jarrett saw no reason not to answer that truthfully. "Sometimes it's one sort, sometimes another."
"Who do you want now? Which man, name him."
The man was right on the tip of Jarrett's tongue and had starred prominently in his fantasies of his just-completed masturbation. "Well, there's Rost, the son of Maaven the greengrocer. You've seen him in the stores helping his father." Rost, the son of Maaven, had returned to the town after a sizeable absence of residing on his grandfather's farm, and in the years between, he had grown from a lanky teenager to a brawny, handsome young man, with tawney golden hair, dazzling green eyes and smooth, healthy skin over a regular, square-jawed face. His smile was even and the greengrocer's business boomed as the womenfolk in town found reason to patronize the store so they could bask in his attentions, and Rost recognized their attentions and flirted with them all, never leaving the store for the day without going right out to meet some female figure dallying nearby, Rost had been cutting a substantial swath through the maidens of the township.
"Yes, I've seen him. Is he the kind of man you desire?"
Jarrett smiled. "He stirs my loins the right way, yes."
"Very well." Wenn rose from the bed.
"I am sorry." Jarrett said sincerely. "But I cannot lie about what I feel."
Wenn turned and smiled...and faded out.
Jarrett settled back onto the bed. Had this been a mad dream of some kind? But the spunk on his stomach was still there. And it felt strange, not the warm congealed substance of spent love it normally did. Like a foreign fluid had been dropped on his body. Completely dead. Jarrett wiped his seed with the corner of his coverlet, covered himself up completely and sent himself to sleep, still unsure whether his odd conversation with his departed friend had ever happened.
Jarrett went the next day to his own work, a metalshop, their shop sold all sorts of durable metal items from silverware to pots and pans to weapons to farm tools. He did not love his work, but it was where he had been apprenticed when younger, he had "made his bed" and now had to live in it. But it meant that people from all over the town, from all walks of life, entered the shop from time to time.
Unlike the greengrocer, Jarrett's shop closed shortly before sundown, he was used to being done with work sooner than others. He was surprised, then, when he arrived at his home to find someone waiting for him outside. "Rost!" he called out with pleasure and surprise when the big man approached him. "What brings you here?"
"You do." Rost said to him.
Jarrett was pleased but puzzled. "I do not understand." Rost had no reason of his own to approach Jarrett, the attraction was clearly one-sided and hopeless.
"You want me, don't you?"
"I...uh...." Jarrett stuttered, to declare his love for a straight man was usually a very bad idea.
"You told me last night you wanted this body."
Jarrett blinked, looked closer. "Wenn?"
"Yes, I have borrowed Rost's body." Wenn/Rost told him. "For the next hour or so, he is all yours. In loving him, you will be loving me."
"Indeed?" Jarrett blinked again, smiled.
"May I please come in with you now?" Wenn/Rost asked.
"Please do, at once." Jarrett turned and fumbled with the lock on his door.
Inside, he turned back only to be bodily tackled. Wenn/Rost was pouncing upon him with all the ardent desire of the repressed longing he'd held his entire foreshortened life. Jarrett felt the strong arms enclose him and bore him over to the bed bodily, those arms fastened around Jarrett's chest and arms, a painful hold, but it was only a few steps, and then he was cast upon the bed and bounced.
Wenn/Rost's hands clawed at Jarrett's clothing, his trousers were undone and pulled down his legs pell-mell, and his loinwrap almost torn off of him, and Jarrett was exposed from waist to knees, his manhood displayed...and covered again as Wenn/Rost dove onto him and gulped him down to the very base as his hands continued to wrest the leggings from his body.
What followed was not entirely comfortable, however eager and intense it may have been. Wenn had perhaps been hampered by his rather plain appearance into less sexual experiences even had he not evinced an unrequited attraction to Jarrett. And Rost of course knew nothing of how to please another man's prong. The mouth on Jarrett's prick was dry and unskilled but it was the mouth of a man that Jarrett had himself longed for, and it was plied upon him with a desire of a man who carried that desire with him beyond the grave. Jarrett found pleasure and pain battling in his brains with the winner very much in question, but he bore up under the combat and pleasure finally carried the field, and he rose to his climax and sprayed into Wenn/Rost's mouth and throat as he moaned in a climax made the more intense because of the pain that had been inflicted along with the joy.
Wenn/Rost suckled at his prong as if it were the fount of all blessings, and drained every iota of Jarrett's love fluid from him. Rose when it was done and knelt above Jarrett, wiping his face.
"And are you happy now, my dearest love?" he asked.
"I will be when you finish with me." Jarrett replied and wrapped his now bare legs about the brawny greengrocer's son.
Wenn/Rost's reply was only to smile and undo his own waist fastenings, lowering his breeches so that he could bring his own tool to bear. Jarrett glimpsed the thick, fat dong and groaned in anticipation. Wenn/Rost spat and oiled his prick with his spit, and then levered it to Jarrett's ass.
As Jarrett felt the huge pud sliding into him, he threw back his head, groaned and his hands reached up to clutch Wenn/Rost tightly. Wenn (the spirit within) was in his glory and Rost (the spirit depressed within but still present) found his dong milked by Jarrett's eager anus which gloried in the presence of the hard tool within him. Wenn made the experience last quite a while, and Jarrett joined him in the climax which eventually arrived.
Wenn/Rost lowered his face in exhaustion when the climax was done, and when he lifted his eyes, it was Rost alone who regarded his partner.
"What have I done?" he gasped out.
Jarrett felt it best to pretend ignorance. "I know naught, save that you came to me." He said.
As this was only truth (though not told whole), Rost could not search his fragmented memory and find anything else. "I must have been mad!" He groaned. "None may know of this! None!"
"I have no need to tell anybody." Jarrett agreed. "Though if you wish to return, my home is open to you."
"Blood-spilled plains of the Dark Realm!" swore Rost as he adjusted his clothing and fled into the streets again.
Jarrett laid back in sweat-stained satiation. When Wenn's spirit came to him a while later, he said, "Well, I must admit that I never visualized you as my lover, but I am finding the idea to be very...ideal."
"I wish I could have held you while I'd been alive." Wenn mourned.
"This is better." Jarrett said emphatically. "We can both be happy this way, you get me and I get any man I want. What could be better than that?"
Wenn's response was to quietly vanish away.
The next day while on the way home, Jarrett found a contingent of Guardsmen riding through his town. The leader of the contingent was a specimen of manhood both strong and delightful.
"Wenn? Can you hear me?" he called out.
"I am always with you." the voice said to him softly in one ear.
"I see the man I wish you to get for me next." Jarrett said. "The Captain of that contingent of Guards who just passed. Can you bring him to me?"
There was no answer. Just a sighing sound.
"Wenn?"
"So I shall." came the answer. "Leave your door unlocked and he will be there soon as I can capture him."
Jarrett hurried home and undressed completely. He wanted to enjoy this.
It took almost an hour, but then the door of his one-room home opened and in walked the regal form of the Captain. "You have come." Jarrett sighed happily.
"I have come." the Captain replied. "I know not why I have come, but I felt compelled."
Jarrett blinked. Wenn must not be as much in control of this one as he had been with Rost. "You came so that we could make love." he explained incompletely. "I have been waiting for you."
The Captain blinked, then Wenn's presence seemed to surge up in him, for he smiled and began to disrobe. Jarrett followed the disrobing with eager eyes, for the Captain was both handsome and massive, and when he climbed into Jarrett's bed, the mattress bounced and buckled as if a bull were climbing in with him. No wonder Wenn was having trouble controlling him.
But this Captain didn't seem to need much control, for he didn't hesitate at any point, he climbed onto Jarrett's chest and sat there, feeding Jarrett his huge dong and when it was greased up with Jarrett's saliva, he waddled backwards and lifted Jarrett's lower body upwards by both ankles and plugged Jarrett firmly.
The thrusts of the Captain were both powerful and lusty and practiced. It had been many a male butt he had plugged with this massive tool, and he jarred Jarrett heavily with every thrust into him. Jarrett moaned and clutched to the Captain's forearms as he was assailed by the powerful thighs of the Captain.
The Captain didn't keep Jarrett in that one position, but turned him around and began to ram him again with Jarrett on one side and the Captain over him, a bit later, he rolled Jarrett onto his stomach and pounded him from above with a ferocity that make the entire building shake so that Jarrett's neighbors protest.
The Captain came with a loud roaring sound of ecstasy that resembled a battle yowl. Jarrett felt the hot flood filling him and threw his own head back and joined in, spraying his sheets with his spunk. Done, exhausted, he lay on the sheets, breathing heavily as the Captain released him, dressed again and departed.
When Wenn joined him, Jarrett was nearly asleep. "Are you all right?" He asked, concerned. "My control of that man was not as strong as it could have been, had his nature been other than it was, he would not have come to you."
"It was all right." Jarrett sighed. "Variety is the very spice of life. It is part of why I could never give my heart to you."
Wenn seemed reassured by this and why not? Jarrett had given him a reason other than himself for the lack of Jarrett's interest in him while alive. "Well, you have the variety now. For as long as I can give it to you, that is."
Jarrett fell asleep before he could ask what that meant.
The next weeks were for Jarrett a voyage of exploration. He began to cast about for men which Wenn could capture and bring to him for his desires. He enjoyed a different man every night, and after a short time, could not dream of any other life than he was having.
Perhaps he should have expected what finally happened. One cannot take any man he wants without end without, at some time, choosing someone who had a jealous mate or lover to contend with. Jarrett did not know which man it was that was his downfall, for all he knew was that while en route to his home one day, he found himself faced by a hooded man with a knife who, without word of revenge or explanation, plunged the blade into Jarrett's throat. Jarrett fell, choking and went from pain-filled dimness to pain-free blackness and from there...he went across.
To call where he went a place would give it attributions that would not apply. It was simply...a place and when he got there, Wenn was waiting there. And Jarrett found himself with information that he had never known he knew.
"So it ends again." Wenn said to him.
"Yes." Jarrett agreed. "Another cycle concludes."
"I wish we could choose to be lovers while both of use were alive." Wenn said wistfully.
"I would give you that if I could." Jarrett told him with an honesty that could not admit of any falsehood. "But I am who I am, and you are who you are."
"I know." Wenn agreed. "Well, we love who we love."
Jarrett reached the equivalent of his hand up to the equivalent of Wenn's cheek in appreciation. "And I love variety."
"Very well." Wenn agreed. "Well, which land shall we choose this next time?"
"How about the Southlands?" Jarrett suggested. "I crave their golden brown skin and marvelously crafted faces."
"Very well, the Southlands." Wenn agreed. "Shall we rest in spirit form a while before we start living again?"
"Why bother?" Jarrett said. "The sooner we are born again, the sooner we can love again."
"After I am again dead, that is." Wenn agreed. "Very well. Let us go."
And the two spirits went out of the place, to again join the ranks of the living and start their next cycle of life and love once more.
THE END
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E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM