Copyright© 2006 by Wolf Goddess

Sharing stories is by far the closest one will get to making love to another person's mind. You might wonder how, or you might have already done it. Just in case you may not be getting my point, I see writing stories as my arousal creating a sensual atmosphere, a tool of seduction. When you come along, you are drawn into it.

As you read, my words slide their way into your subconscious, igniting a sensuous impression within your mind, which in return, arouses you. If you continue reading, chemical changes ripple around and you begin to feel what I have created. Those sensations travel the length of your body, kindling the need to make love.

After you have reached the end of my story, you will probably exhale and release the inevitable mind orgasm. If you send your thoughts my way, explaining how much you enjoyed it, how much I turned you on. By the time I have read these comments, the process repeats itself within me, making it your turn to make love to me.

With that said, I would like to share a story... since the atmosphere for it is surely forming.

As most of us know, Jamie Lee supposedly beheaded some poor soul in that forced sequel of a movie. No disrespect, but that simply was not the Michael Myers we all dreaded some decades earlier. It was an impostor, I tell you, for Michael has very wide and very strong shoulders, that man did not.

The producers wanted to end the film due to the fact that they could not find the real Michael. Which reminds me, I need to run downstairs to my apartment, but don't fret, I shall return. Michael can be quite the hulk when he's aroused, but we're working on taming that a bit... though not too much, you'll see why. I am, though, in need of a new computer, which is why I am using someone else's to write this to you. Michael made the mistake of thrashing it to the floor when I told him to catch me.

Oh, I notice that I'm digressing, and that is a no-no when writing a story, my time is limited as it is. Though let me inform you that the new Michael is in no way broken in the weaker sense, but actually... let me just tell the story, shall I?

A hushed alertness draped the entire neighborhood the day Michael Myers slipped into town. Word had spread, and his presence was felt. His intentions were feared, however, no one knew of his whereabouts. Every one's hair was at a constant stand on the back of their necks, frustrating the poor town. Several times I imagined spotting him in the shadows, but when I looked again, the scenery had changed and the eerie feeling was gone.

No one really led on to how anxious he or she had been; but later, the darkness always answered all the questions one needed to know.

Throughout the day, many people panicked when friends or family went missing for long periods of time, and sighs were heard once their whereabouts were discovered, although, that did little to quell the fears circling the atmosphere that morning.

An hour later, I left my apartment. I made the mistake of ignoring Michael's absence, entertaining the idea that we were all hear-llucinating from recycled gossip. Old men sitting around generating enough fear to cause a state panic. I concentrated on work the first half of that morning and left a little early to run an errand for a friend, only because I was headed in the same direction for lunch.

I skipped up the stairs, pushed through the front doors, and jumped into the elevator once it opened. When I reached the top floor, there was nothing but silence. The silence wasn't too frightening, but soothing in a way, I had been uptight since the mention of Michael Myers and was not in the mood to talk. Then I remembered. The chairman was having an office party and it was probably just getting started downstairs.

So why would Trey ask me to pick up material while the offices were empty? I had wondered. If I was trespassing, he was going to pay dearly for this. He would understand the meaning of deep tissue massage that would last for weeks. Before walking away from the window, I caught a glimpse of someone briskly walking through the parking lot, toward the building.

"Oh, SHIT!" My breath caught and it was all I could say.

It was Michael. Suddenly, he stopped and looked up. His unseen gaze paralyzed me where I stood. So this was what true fear was like. To think I figured I would be cool under this kind of pressure. I counted on my instincts and will to kick in when faced with death.

I only thought to run once he started for the stairs, but my legs would not comply. I stood there like a helpless ass, spinning in circles, trying to remember how to walk. How to run. I wondered if the neurotransmitters in my brain had begun to back up and crowd each other, because the messages weren't being received. I immediately forgot how to breathe, I could not comprehend what I was doing there or what was happening, but my visual senses still worked.

A little deductive reasoning didn't hurt either: Michael likes to kill people. Knives are deadly when in motion. Michael is in the building, with a knife. Of course, that did it, and I bolted through the desks and searched for something. Dammit! I shouted. I had forgotten what I was looking for and my unstableness had begun to grate on my nerves. At that moment, I could not remember that I was indeed searching for the elevators.

My anger at behaving like a frightened bitch reminded me of why I was running, which was not my character at all. However, I am not a stupid frightened bitch. I heard footsteps as I headed for stairs and by that time, my stomach was in the wrong place... maybe down by my ankles somewhere.

Quickly, I changed my mind and finally ran to the elevator. A door at the end of the hall slammed shut with a loud thud. I almost sprained my neck turning his way, and only when he turned my way did I see the huge blade, glistening in the semi-darkened hallway.

The doors had not opened as he started his journey in my direction. As always, my eyes noted his attire, always so fully dressed. Delirium had probably settled in by this time, because I recalled a story I had written about him as a horny, young teen. What did he look like naked? I would always ask myself.

More forbidden thoughts caused my walls to throb; my thighs trembled more from a secret desire than from fear, however I was thoroughly relieved when the doors finally opened. The doors took their time closing in, I could feel his impending aura, his evil intentions pushing through, closing in on me before he even walked up. That slow, methodical walk that always gave someone the chance to live just a few minutes longer.

The oddest thing happened then. Instead of reaching in, he allowed them to close tight as he stood there intimidating me with that shadowed stare. The goddess in me stared him right through those dark holes, daring him to enter... praying that he would not. Michael's head jerked to the left before he was out of sight and I silently prayed no one was in that hallway with him just now.

My anger grew over the next few hours and I intentionally at my lunch outside, surrounded by many people, but intentionally. The hairs on the back of my neck reached up and I knew he was watching me. Skin certainly had a way of coming alive when being observed by another soul. Silently, I beckoned him to come to me, my brain was misinterpreting my fear and anger; my arousal was heightened because of it.

I was in no hurry to get back to work just now, but headed there anyway. The walk was slow, deliberate. Michael had decided to borrow a vehicle and coasted along the street behind me. I focused on my surroundings then and for some unimaginable reason, I crossed the street and walked in the direction of my apartment. Some people call me crazy, but I sauntered along that sidewalk as if being a mere object of some one's affection.

It took a few minutes to reach my apartment. With a bright sun, a few clouds, and a dangerous stranger following close by, it was an intoxicating mixture. So I reminisced. I certainly was not the only girl in town, but the name Goddess was not given to all the ladies just because of their moist petals. I did not tell anyone about my secret desires, my appetites, but there were a few who looked into my eyes and discovered just what I was. It either frightened them or called to the secrets that lay dormant within them.

Auburn curls on a slender and tanned body attracted attention everywhere I went. The curves that sculpted my body held the gazes of many admirers. I never did like to reveal so much naked flesh, that was meant as a reward, but I do like to dress in a way that my clothes are envied for the way they hug and move against my body. If my intense, green eyes didn't stop them in their tracks, my walk certainly did. I flowed gracefully through the city, not being so obvious, although my movements are hypnotic, seductive, and easy.

On a day like that day, fear was like an aphrodisiac, which saturated my nerves with a drugging effect. When that happened, I was liable to do impulsive things like, lead Michael Myers into the direction of my little abode.

Wispy clouds slid in front of a soft moon the moment I laid my head on the pillow. Michael had stayed out of sight until the dawn disappeared. I tossed and turned in bed, but never fell asleep. By the window I heard a sound and sank further beneath the feather comforter.

His strength didn't surprise me for he popped the lock easily, pulled himself up, and hopped quietly inside. I watched him through half-closed eyes and noticed his clothing again. I used to think his skin was made of steel, and that thought branched into an idea, a foolish idea.

My hand slid inside my panties as I watched him perform his impending stance the same way he always did. My finger circled my clit as he stepped closer toward my bed. I slid fingers between my gradually moistening lips, watching his strong legs slowly bring him to his destiny, depending on the outcome of the night. I was nearing orgasm, but couldn't quite make it for he had just gotten too close for comfort... or concentration. Again, my thoughts strayed...

Had anyone ever had the chance to touch Michael's body? I just had to find out what it felt like all the while thinking that my curiosity was going to be the death of me. Excitement and fear fought for a place in my mind while he walked closer. Cold steel appeared in his hand in a flash. I jumped up and raced for the window, intending to jump out. Michael hadn't expected me to be awake at this hour and whirled around to face me.

The cool air drifted around my scantily clad body, raising my flesh, but the cold could not have fueled my hesitancy.

"Look, Jason... F-Freddy... whatever the hell your name is... ," See, I'm not proud of that, but it often happens to the brain when the chemicals go haywire. "... have you ever thought of therapy?" I continued, intending to stall him.

He stood there, with mask and knife, looking at me as though I were out of my mind. I calmed my nerves and spoke softer, more rational, but he wasn't hearing me. It seemed to make him even angrier and he stalked toward me.

Again, I couldn't think rationally and before I knew it, his strong hand was tight around my neck in seconds; my toes just barely scraped the hardwood floor. At their own volition, my hands went to his zipper at the same moment his hand was on me. I managed to pull the zipper down a few inches as he brought his knife up, but my hand slid through his clothes before he had the chance to do the same with his blade.

Hot skin touched my cool hand due to the blood draining to other areas of my body. Michael stumbled backwards a few steps, the contact foreign to him, startling. But as his hand came down, the knife made a small slit in my forearm and I screamed. I didn't remove my other hand until he dropped me in a pile on the floor in front of the window.

He watched me again, his head tilted to the side ever so slightly and he growled at me. The sound tickled my thighs, and flicked against my clit, but I moved away from the window while he composed himself before coming at me again. He pulled me up by the waist and turned me around. For some strange reason he brought me to the floor mirror in the corner.

My thought was that he wanted me to watch myself getting sliced, and to my horror, brought the blade to my neck. He pressed in deeply; the sharp steel didn't need much pressure to slice through my soft flesh.

"What you felt a moment ago... on your chest," I sobbed, "it was exciting, shocking, yes? It made your blood rush, didn't it?" I babbled, trying to distract him. "I didn't even have to use a knife," I told him as I watch a line of blood trickle from my collarbone to the top of my shirt. "There are other ways of sharing your pain, Michael. Ways that will leave a deeper, lasting impression on your senses and satisfy you more than... what you been doing."

The man was strong, shouted my bones as his forearm flexed and tightened around my waist. Seconds felt like minutes, the knife was still at my throat, but suddenly, I toppled to the ground, again. I landed right on top of his boots, twisting my wrist.

With the minuscule power he had just given me, I vowed to get even for the pain swimming through my body. Gracefully I came to my feet and headed straight for him. That's when he threw the knife my way. It landed next the window, embedded in my damned wall.

"You could've just set it on the night stand," I said with a raised eyebrow. "Is being a virgin that frustrating for you, love?" I toyed with him, purposefully. "Okay, okay... God, I was kidding," I said. "I know you have a sense of humor, Michael. Come on... have you seen the mask?"

Why provoke, you might ask. It's just my nature. I have a tendency to warn guys about women who like to incite... intentionally, unless they enjoyed girls like that. This guy had such a temper and once I pried my hair out of his hand from that last remark, I noticed his zipper again.

Something that probably only came down for bathroom breaks. Or did he even use the restroom, because I had heard he wasn't even human. Glancing down, his tented trousers concluded that argument. When I inspected those black holes, I realized that I hadn't even seen his face. Michael grabbed my wrists soundly then as I took hold of the fake hair.

"It's okay," I told him. His knee-jerk reactions were making me so very sad for him and I decided I wouldn't be too hard on him... in the beginning. So I pulled upward very slowly, exposing a very strong chin, and placed soft little kisses upon it. Again, he jerked. The mask went higher revealing his nicely shaped lips. The bottom was pleasingly plump so I pulled him closer to me with my teeth firmly grasping it.

His mouth parted and I could tell he was hyperventilating. My eyes began to sparkle at this discovery. As I raised the hood further up, his cheeks and nose came into view. The rest I tossed to the floor with a tug, my curiosity getting the better of me. My fingers swam through the lightest brown hair with wisps of blond matted hair. Uncertainty, unfamiliarity, and fear gripped Michael strongly all at once and he turned on me.

In an instant, I no longer felt the smooth floor, but the air surrounding my feet. He put me in a bear hold, his fear nearly crushing the life from me. I looked down at him and watched his dark eyes, watching his visage when he is in that zone. I wanted to kiss him then; it was all so painfully arousing. We fell back against the bed, and one large hand grasped my neck once more. I felt light-headed, felt the darkness growing. Pushing his chest was pointless; talking was impossible.

My hand, which was pushing against his shoulder, managed to work its way to the middle of his chest. Thankfully, the zipper had slipped low enough for me to get to his nipple long enough to slide a finger over it. I was sure that when he was this keyed up the rest of him should be completely alert, as well.

The warm flesh that passed over his erect nipple weakened him beyond his understanding. Instead of breaking my neck, he rose up with a swiftness you only see in the movies. He stumbled backward until he hit the wall; a different kind of ecstasy coursing through his veins, an adrenaline created from a different source.

I took advantage of his precarious state and thought it would be the perfect time to introduce myself.

"My name is India, but close friends call me Goddess," I said. I walked boldly toward him. I mean after all, he was still a man.

The mask he was so known for, the mask that had given me the creeps my entire childhood and adulthood was thrown to the floor and forgotten the moment I felt his hard cock press into me on the bed. The lights were still out. I still hadn't seen his eyes; his upper body was cast in a dark shadow. He gazed at me from that darkness in fear, in amazement at what I was making him feel. This confused him I could tell, but I would tell him later that he was afraid of something that had nothing to do with strength or the lack of it.

Michael's eyes roamed the length of my body, from my tank top to my panties. His gaze traveled back to the hardened circles watching him from behind thin fabric. As my pupils dilated further, I noticed his eyes moving lower to the curve of my hips, with him being paralyzed this time.

Holding out a hand, I made a gesture to consummate our introduction. He only continued to stare. I was beginning to like his gazes; I knew the human part of him that others said disappeared long ago was resurfacing. A little too slowly for my appetite, but I shouldn't have complained for he was there, the most mysterious man ever to grace the spirit of earth was watching me with growing fascination, hungry for human intimacy.

I moved slightly toward him, his body flinched. The perfect idea to get him to relax came to mind. I sauntered over to my bed as slowly as I could, looking back to make sure he noticed that each sway of my hips was for his benefit. Taking the hem of my shirt, I brought it over my head and tossed it near the mask. To my surprise, he bent slowly and picked it up. In the shadows, the scene was mind-blowing for a girl like me.

Michael brought my shirt to his face and inhaled my scent. My blood was racing, my breath erratic as I watched his bowed head do the first human thing I'd never imagined him doing.

When I sat on the bed, the shirt was forgotten as his mind registered my hands caressing my breasts. I smiled as he glanced down at the twitching movement near his hips, looking back at me with the most incredulous expression. I then let one hand slide down under the elastic waistband, watching him as intently as he watched me. The sensations were too strong and my elbow gave way. Falling back against the bed, I lay there and began caressing my clit to a nice orgasm. When I opened my eyes, I almost screamed. He had moved closer for a better look, but a look of disappointment was in his eyes.

Looking down at my hand, I figured it was because my panties were obstructing his view. So I pulled them off. The fact that I didn't stroke my clit in the last few seconds hadn't stopped the climax from building. It took on a life of its own, moving like a sensual dance upon my nerves. The sight of him hovering over me drove me crazy with lust. I tried to reach between my legs, but he grabbed my hand.

"No," I said breathlessly, almost giggling, "I have to finish."

With my free hand, I dipped a finger in the cream pooling between my engorged lips and brought it to my tongue. After letting my hand go, Michael mocked me and dipped his finger in to do the same. When he licked the cream from his finger the way I had done, I lost it. My head hit the bed, my finger pressed into my clit producing shudders and trembles throughout my body while I orgasmed under Michael's blue-eyed stare.

Seeing all his features as a whole looked like one big seductive entity just specially made for a woman like me. The god Dionysus would have been so lucky to have looked like this man. He was gorgeous with his messy blond hair, thick brows and curious blue eyes. Michael had one sexy mouth and I was very pleased to have finally cast my eyes upon it. After the waves subsided, I decided that we needed to talk.

"With the way you behaved today, I knew this meeting would be inevitable," I told him as I situated myself comfortably on my stomach. "Do you speak?" He only nodded a yes. "Well, Michael, if you want to get to know me, it's required that I hear your voice," I said, staring at his face as if I were looking into the moon. His beauty was hypnotic, contrasting mightily with his legacy. I giggled as Michael stared back at me in the same fashion just inches from my face as if he were looking into the sun. Thoughtfully I decided that the moon had finally found his sun... and she would guarantee that he would never regret it.

"Come, precious, we need to get you in the bath."

Instead of following, he stayed knelt at the foot of the bed. I knew doubt and mistrust were taunting him once again, as well as many other disturbing things he probably had never felt in his life. However, when he stood, he was more uncomfortable with the huge boner he sported. I could understand how disturbing that must have been for him. To have an erection under totally different circumstances, besides the fact that no one had ever seen him naked.

"Michael," when he looked up at me, I was truly smitten, "You're safe."

When he stood, I had to hide my obvious amusement at watching him come toward me with his jumpsuit looking like a torpedo. I turned my head, closed my eyes, and thought of something that would take my mind off it. He would not understand, I told myself. I kept the lights of for his benefit, but enjoyed the way the moon shone down on us from the skylight.

His zipper melted down the front of his clothes when I brought it down. Sweat and a masculine odor drifted up to my nostrils, but I wasn't the least bit offended with his scent. This kind of rawness only heightened my awareness of man; however, I do have my limits. Once his overalls were opened, I slid my hands underneath his collar and touched his strong shoulders. If his inner turmoil mirrored my own, then he must have wanted to melt at the electricity created by the connecting of our flesh, as I wanted to. Then I had an idea.

"Take your clothes off, Mister Myers," I said, sitting down on the edge of the tub, knowing that that would be the last time he would hear the word Mister come out of my mouth, unless I wanted his attention. When he slid the entire suit to the floor, only to myself did I think the man should be called Master Mike, but since he was in the presence of a goddess, he would get all the praise due to him while crawling to me on his knees.

"Turn around, love," I told him as the tub continued to fill.

Michael turned his back to me, his back flexing as he tried to keep his breathing under control. The poor thing, I thought, but instead of reaching out and consoling him, I let him bask in the scrutiny, giving him a taste of his own silent gaze. I let my stare travel his entire body. His neck was strong and I imagined it between my thighs as his tongue flicked over my pussy. I scrolled down his handsome back and imagined those muscles contracting and tensing as he drove his large cock deep between my walls. When I looked at his ass, I was impressed and thought two things: what my hands would look like squeezing it as he thrust into me and how red it would glow when I spanked it.

My eyes traced the ridges of his calf muscles, which were lightly dusted with hair. His feet were so handsome, so sexy that I wanted to get on my knees and kiss them. It wouldn't be a reversal of roles on my part, because even on my knees, I would still be in charge. My mind came back to the present and I could discern the subtle way he waited for my approval.

"I'm very pleased with your body, Michael," was all I would reveal to him when I finally stood in front of him, noticing how he towered over my 5'5 frame. "Get in the tub, sweetheart."

Once inside the tub, his body relaxed just a fraction. Michael looked as if he were in a dream as he stared at the moon through the skylight. His emotions were still bottled up tight and the expulsion of his feelings is what I wanted to see; certain facial gestures that would reveal the vulnerability in his eyes is what I longed to feel and decided to take my time with this one.

I was aware that something could backfire and who knew what could happen. Michael's eyes never wavered from my naked breasts, which swayed while I bathed him. He longed to touch me, his flexing muscles divulged that much, but somehow he assumed he needed my permission. His assumption was correct, but knowing he resisted the temptation as his body screamed to do just the opposite, delighted me.

My eyes sparkled at his magnificent display of his control. The more I cleansed him, the more taut his muscles became. I emptied the tub and filled it again with clean water. After a second bath, he was ready for a light shave. So I removed my panties to prepare myself. Michael's hands gripped the edge of the tub as I stepped into the waters with him. Bending over, I set the tools down beside us and lowered myself onto his lap. As I descended, his bobbing cock slid up against the length of my lips, passing through the folds of my pussy.

"Shhhhhh. It's okay, Michael. It's okay. Calm... calm... that's it," I consoled him, his eyes closed tight. "Michael, listen to me. I'm going to shave your face. If you don't want to get cut, don't cum. The jolt will surely distract me," I told him, holding his head on both sides. "Do you understand this?"

I didn't get an answer, just pleading eyes, so I asked him again.

"Yesss... Ma'am," his voice came out in a whisper as it should since he rarely used it.

"Good. Now, let's begin," I smiled and reached over to grab my utensils. The movement was worse than a slice of a blade; it seemed, because Michael groaned as if he were in excruciating pain. "Oops, simply forgot about that, love."

A statement so far from the truth, I felt silly saying it. Of course, I didn't show him mercy, I knew how tough he was and wanted to test it further. I lifted my hips and lowered myself down on his erect cock. The sinking was slow, smooth, slippery, and snug. I felt as if I would never reach the bottom, but then, I was moving slowly. Michael's dick was lodged deeply and so perfectly; its presence would be remembered for weeks to come.

My heart was racing; my breathing was gradually quickening, and my eyes glazed over into a sensual trance all while I lathered his face with shaving cream. Such a simple act always reminded me of doing something superior. With the cream on their faces, men were sort of muzzled, subject to my ministrations, my time... in silence. Emphasis was placed on their eyes, which were clouded with many different thoughts. In the silence, their eyes spoke things their mouths wouldn't. Looking at Michael this way excited me. His eyes spoke and my hips moved, his crown pressing into my release button.

Michael began to hyperventilate again so I stilled my hips, although it was time he learned some self-control, control over those knee-jerk reactions of his. Again, the beacon came to life within me; a small point behind the clit at which the orgasm emerged and I willed myself not to lose control. I loved the delay of taking control, the build-up of forbidding the release, and the tremendous liberation of such labor.

Soon, despite my declaration just now, the moment took a turn. After each pass along his cheek, I ground my pelvis against his midsection. The waves splashed around us, obstructing the image of our joined bodies in the water. I could see my cream evaporating as it drifted to the surface of the water. And Michael's knuckles had turned white from his continuous grip on the tub.

Passion danced throughout my eyes like a softly blowing flame as I watched his vulnerability grow, he watched me back with that same passion. I smiled weakly, bringing my hands to his hair and sprinkled the water, which dripped from them over his head. I reached over then to grab the scissors. "Unnnnhhhhh!" Michael groaned louder, a sound that was becoming more and more exhilarating to my ears. I took a few snips of hair from the sides and the back, the thickness of his hair needed no grooming; I loved the way it covered his eyes.

Loose tendrils falling into a man's eyes reminded me of a boy with secrets. I remember seeing a few guys in town look at me from between their hair as it blew in the wind; one of the most erotic things I could ever witness in the not-so secret hours of the day. It was mesmerizing. So I continued to play with my new boy toy's hair, letting it fall over his eyes. The sight of him didn't seem so scary, but tender and sexy. I was compelled to move my hips, the 'taking my time' theory shot to hell in an instant.

My knees were beginning to ache so I situated myself carefully, comfortably. The waters rippled around me as I did. Michael reached behind him out of desperation, not really knowing what he was trying to get, but made the mistake of pulling the towel rack from its hinges. I ignored it for the time being. I mean, it was his first time. His voice was deep, but low as he moaned and called out to God. Instantly, I remembered the words of the old men in town that even evil believed in a higher source.