© Copyright 2004
Author's Note: The following is a fictional story. In it, fictional characters have hot, sweaty, unprotected, fictional sex. They live in a fictional world without fictional diseases. You do not. Be careful. All characters in this story are old enough to know what they're doing. Now, on to the show!
This is a flash story epic. It is based on the song titles from an album by the musical group Fleming and John. The name of the album is "Delusions of Grandeur."
Each section of the story is based on one of the song titles.
As with all of my flash stories, each segment is exactly 300 words long, not including the titles.
I'm Not Afraid
Shelly came to my door, battered and bruised, begging for a place to stay. I recognized her as an occupant of an apartment down the hall. I'd lusted after her for years, but she was married.
"Shelly! What happened?"
She looked away, and I could see the skin around her eye, puffy and dark with bruising. I understood now. She was getting smacked around.
"Are you okay? Did Jake do this to you?" I asked, concerned she may be hurt. She said she was fine, but paused, glancing down at her feet, before nodding again. Fucking Jake. I shook my head. At least she was here. That was the first step for her.
We walked into the bathroom, to wash away the dirt and grit.
I watched as, unconcerned with my presence, she undressed. She stretched her back, and I fought to suppress a moan as her breasts pushed against the threadbare cloth of her blouse, stretching the thin material.
"You just gonna watch, Eric?" she asked, noticing where my eyes were looking. I started to stammer an apology, but she shrugged, again nonchalant. "I don't care if you stay, but you're washing my back."
I nodded dumbly as her nimble fingers made quick work of the rest of her clothes, now piled together on the cold tile floor.
She stepped into the shower, sighing as the warm water washed away layers of grime. I watched enviously as suds from her shampoo slipped between the firm cheeks of her ass. I realized I was staring, and again offered to leave. She shook her head.
"I'm not afraid," she explained. "You won't hurt me."
I wondered why she was so sure. I wondered if she had been surprised each time Jake hit her. She was right, though. I wouldn't hurt her.
Break The Circle
I was surprised how many wife-beaters were willing to show their faces, although I suppose it was good they wanted to change
It was the second meeting of Shelly's support group for abuse victims, and she had asked me to come with her. She had moved out of her apartment the week before, a move I supported wholeheartedly. Her husband didn't appear happy, and cursed her as she gathered her belongings.
"You must be willing to break the circle of violence," the speaker said. "Violence begets more violence. Abusers abuse, while victims turn repeatedly to those who abuse."
Break the circle. It sounded simple enough, but I knew it was never that easy, at least for most couples.
We drove back to my apartment. I had a spare room where Shelly was sleeping, while her belongings slowly took over my living room.
As I pulled over to the curb, Shelly turned to me, a question in her eyes.
"Eric? Can we go dancing? Jake... never liked me to go dancing."
I nodded, happy for any happy diversion.
We bounced to the powerful beat. As the tempo slowed, we clutched at each other, faces sweaty with our exertions. Shelly slid her body against mine, swaying sensuously to the beat. I felt my arousal increase as she pushed her hips against me, my cock swelling and thickening in my slacks.
On slower numbers, Shelly melted into my embrace, and we swayed together. I could feel the soft pillows of her breasts and the heat of her pussy as her crotch lightly humped my leg.
Sliding my hands down her back, I rested on her firm ass cheeks. She moaned into my ear, her lips brushing my neck.
"Thank you," she whispered.
I chuckled silently. Anything to help her break the circle.
Delusions Of Grandeur
We lay in bed, my hand trailing over Shelly's smooth back. Her fingers were still playing with my rapidly softening cock, her right leg resting over mine. I could feel the heat of her pussy and the soft hairs of her mound as Shelly slid against my body.
"That was unexpected," she said, looking into my eyes. I cocked my head in question, stretching my neck to kiss her lightly on the forehead. I tasted the salty tang of her sweat and licked my lips before kissing her again.
"What do you mean?"
She smiled sadly for a moment. "I was convinced it was me, you know? Everything that went wrong, it was my fault, so he'd hit me. Anything out of place, anything that didn't go as planned, it was all because of me, so he'd toss me around a little bit. I figured I deserved getting beat up."
I reached my hand to her face, stroking her cheeks.
"Never your fault," I whispered into her ear. "You're sweet and gentle and kind and loving and beautiful. He's the asshole."
Shelly released my penis before throwing her hands around my neck, pulling us close as she squeezed me tightly.
"Thank you," she said. "Thank you. I hated myself, and would have killed myself if not for you." She had come to my apartment one day, dirty and bruised and in need of love, and I had done what I could. "You are the one reason I'm still here. The one thing that's given me hope." She paused before continuing. "I love you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
"Me?" I chucked softly. "Trust, me. I have no delusions of grandeur. I know I'm nothing special."
Shelly raised her eyebrows, shaking her head softly. "Yes you are."
Rain All Day
"Jake wants to get back together," Shelly announced. I choked on my toast, and looked at her. It had been a month since she moved out of her abusive relationship and into our loving one. We'd never discussed it, but I thought it felt permanent.
"Oh." I sighed, remembering what I'd heard about victims often returning to their abusers. "Should I help you pack?"
"What? Eric! Oh my God, no!" Shelly looked panicked before realizing my confusion. "Honey," she said, "that's what he wants, but not what I want. I want you." She leaned forward, lightly brushing her lips over my cheek.
"You have me," I answered, watching her eyes light up. I pulled her closer, kissing her on the lips. Chaste at first, it quickly grew more heated as the fires within us spread.
I reached around, grabbing at her muscular legs and buttocks, clothed only in tiny panties, her top covered with an old t-shirt. As I embraced her, she spread her legs, straddling my lap.
Shelly pressed her breasts against me, and I felt the diamond-sharp points of her nipples, poking into my chest. Her damp pussy mound brushed against my leg, and I felt her heat as she humped against my thigh.
Reaching down, I released my erect cock from my baggy shorts. Pulling aside the flimsy crotch of her panties, I sank into her hot tunnel.
We made love in the kitchen, contently moving and sliding against one another.
Soon, I released my seed, feeling her slick folds spasm around me. I collapsed back into my chair, Shelly still draped over me. Glancing out the window, I noticed it had begun to rain.
"I don't care," Shelly sighed. "For all I care it can rain all day, as long as you don't move."
Letters In My Head
"What's eating at you?" I finally asked, unable to remain silent.
"What do you mean?" Shelly looked confused at my question.
"I don't know. You seem a little... mopey, I guess."
"Mopey?" She smiled. "Is that a word?"
I snorted. "Of course it is. Look at Disney, for goodness' sake. You think he'd name one of the dwarfs Mopey if it wasn't a real word?"
"There was no dwarf named Mopey," she said, laughing at me.
"Sure there was," I huffed. "Happy. Sleepy. Grumpy. Doc. Bashful. Sneezy. Mopey. That's seven."
"It wasn't Mopey," she laughed. "It was... something else."
"Oh, really? Positive, are you?"
"Yes. Check online." We did, and she was right. "See! It was Dopey. I was right, you big dope." She grinned at me.
"Fine, you win." I paused. "But seriously, Shelly, what's been eating at you?"
She sighed before answering. "I don't know. I took all the crap and abuse Jake gave me for so long, and now it's done, and I don't really feel all that much better."
"Really?" Her divorce had been finalized the week before, but she was right, she hadn't seemed as upbeat about it as I would have thought. "Why not?"
"Because, I took all his shit for so long, and it's finally over and what now? He goes back to being a jerk, nothing happens to him, and I have all these horrible memories about it. Seems like I kinda got the short end of the stick."
"But it's over. You won."
"I suppose. Well anyway, I keep writing letters in my head," she continued. "All the things I should have said to him, but I was always too afraid. Now I don't need to."
"Don't need to what? To write the letters, or to be afraid?"
She smiled. "Both."
I was nervous as hell, standing at the front of the church. What if she decided it was a mistake. What if she had too many memories of Jake that she was ruined from every marrying again?
What if what if what if?
And then, there she was, standing behind her three attendants. She was dressed in white, as all brides should. She held a bouquet in her hands, and waited while her nephew stumbled down the aisle, spilling rose pedals with each step.
Shelly was more graceful than anyone had ever been. She was more beautiful than any woman had ever been. I am sure of this, and no one will ever convince me otherwise.
We stood before the priest, and I felt my hands shaking. When it was time to place the ring on her finger, I fumbled, swearing silently, unable to accomplish the simple task.
"Relax," she whispered. Together we faced the priest, ready to follow the prescribed script. We followed along perfectly, and soon it was time to face the world as man and wife.
Shelly blushed as I kissed her passionately, in front of friends and family.
The reception was a blur. Too many people. Too many congratulations. Too many cameras and crying children and not enough time with my bride.
I carried her over the threshold, and we made love for the first time as man and wife.