Chapter 1

A small, bright light appeared in front of David Stanley's eyes and slowly expanded. At the same time, the world around him started to fade, melting away into a black void until the light swallowed the dark abyss. His consciousness fell away from his body and became one with the light, or at least that's what he believed happened.

On the other hand, he also believed he could be dying, but if he was the concept didn't seem to frighten him, which made him curious. That he could be curious led him to believe he still had a sense of self, that his ego was still intact. He also knew the light and his consciousness were without form or substance. He didn't know why he knew this fact. He just did.

Suddenly the light seemed to hover, and a scene came into focus below the light. He recognized the room, a kitchen, and its occupant, his mother. The scene was fuzzy around the edges, and the colors were faded like the colors in a failing computer monitor. Obviously, the light containing his sense of self had vision, which confused him. Without form or substance, the light could have no eyes, but still it could see. It didn't have the benefit of sound, though, and he wondered if his ego carried any other senses during the trip. He watched his mother's lips moving as she spoke... no, he decided, she's not speaking; she's singing. Her hips swayed alluringly to a syncopated beat, and she twirled around, dancing to the sounds of music the bright light and David's ego couldn't hear.

His mother had a wooden spoon in her hand, and for a few seconds she waved it like a conductor's baton, directing the music she was enjoying as she continued to sway to its beat. As she dipped the spoon into a pot on the stove to stir whatever she was cooking, the light started to fade, and the black void returned around the edges.

He opened his eyes, and the world around him quickly came into focus. He still occupied a chair in Ms. Shannon's English class where he'd been when the episode began, but now the young teacher stood over him with a worried look. She'd been standing at the blackboard, David remembered, when the light started to form. Now she stood next to him. Time had elapsed during the event, he realized - another curious fact that meant little in his befuddled state.

"Ah, David, you're back amongst us. Are you all right? You've had us worried."

"Yes. What happened?"

The pretty teacher shrugged, causing her perky breasts to sway, not unlike the sway of his mother's breasts as she danced during his... what? He tried to label the event, and although it didn't seem possible, he decided he'd had an out-of-body experience.

"Can you stand up?"

"Of course."

"Well?"

David pushed himself to his feet with ease.

"Walk with me. You need to see the school nurse."

"No, I'm fine, Ms. Shannon," David said and sat back down. He blushed, feeling extremely embarrassed to be the focus of everyone's attention.

"You're not fine. You suddenly slumped on your chair, and if Tim hadn't caught you, you'd have fallen to the floor." Tim Darlington, a classmate and friend, occupied the chair to his right. "You were completely unconscious. Come with me, David," she said and turned to Ellen Farley at the front of the class. "Ellen, take charge." Then she announced to the rest of the class, "Read the short story on page ninety-two of your book." The class groaned. "It's only three pages long. I'll give a short quiz on the story at the end of the class."

The groans increased in volume as David followed Ms. Shannon out of the classroom. An hour later, Carol Stanley, the boy's worried mother, picked him up at the school. She queried him as she drove toward their home.

"Should I take you to a doctor, Son?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine, Mom, really."

"But Ms. Shannon said you passed out in class, and the nurse thinks you might have had a seizure, or a stroke, or something."

The teenager had not told the school nurse about his vision. Intuitively, he'd felt she wouldn't believe him. Heck, he could hardly believe it himself, and he'd experienced it. Should he tell his mother? He needed to talk with someone about what happened.

"I didn't have a seizure or stroke, Mom. I think I had an out-of-body experience." He went on to explain in detail what had happened and the vision he'd seen, and as he described the kitchen scene, he watched his mother's eyes widen with shock.

"What was I wearing?"

"Cut-off jeans and a red blouse, though the color of the blouse was faded. All the colors seemed washed out to me." He'd seen the blouse on her before and knew it was brighter in reality than it had been during his vision.

She gasped! "Son! When I received the call from the school nurse, I hurried and threw on this dress. I couldn't come to the school in cut-off jeans and my old, red blouse. Fifteen minutes before the call, I was making spaghetti sauce and singing along with the radio!"

Stunned, David sucked in air. "You're kidding! I thought my mind was making something up, sort of like a dream." What he'd seen during the event had been real! Amazing! Instead of frightening him, this new knowledge exhilarated him.

"What song was playing?"

"I don't know. I could see but couldn't hear."

Strange. More than strange, he thought. As he pondered what happened, fear replaced the euphoria he'd first experienced when he discovered he'd actually watched his mother from a distance.

"No doctors, Mom. I don't want to become a lab rat."

She shook her head. "You might be right. Still..."

"Uh-uh. No doctors. I'm fine. Mostly, I'm embarrassed."

She reached and squeezed his hand. "Okay, no doctors for now, but if it happens again..."

"What kind of doctor would you take me to - a neurologist, an internist? Maybe a psychiatrist? If it happens again, I still won't admit any out-of-body experience to anyone but you, Mom, so you'd be wasting your time and mine."

Carol Stanley was worried. She'd married young and gave birth to David a year after her wedding day. Then Darla came along about a year later. Five years later, her husband was killed in an automobile accident. The proceeds from life insurance policies helped, but she had to find work to make ends meet. She discovered she had a knack for selling and soon established her own business as a manufacturer's representative. The business allowed her to work out of her home and care for her children.

After a reasonable time, she'd tried dating but had failed to find love again. Following a few disappointing excursions into romance, she'd backed away from the frenzied dating scene. She met men in the course of her business, and she traveled to trade shows periodically, giving her ample opportunities for sex on her terms. If love came around again, she'd be happy, but she was happy anyway. She'd quit frantically searching for love from a man and gave all her love to her children.

Both her children were good students and rarely gave her serious trouble. Oh, sometimes she wanted to strangle them, usually when they fought with each other like cats and dogs, but for the most part, she was proud of them, proud of their maturity and good sense, and proud of their appearance - David was a tall, handsome boy, and Darla was cute and all girl. Then David had his first out-of-body event, and her life changed. She had a son with an unusual ability - or curse. She couldn't decide which.

This morning, David had arrived for breakfast, looking shamefaced and refusing to look her in the eye. He's feeling guilty about something, she assumed. When she queried him, he mumbled and refused to discuss his problem, whatever it was, which was unlike him. Then Darla bounced bright-eyed and enthusiastic into the kitchen, and David made some cutting remark, which set Darla off, and soon the siblings were bickering. Situation normal.

Almost normal. Her son still refused to look directly at her. Why me, she asked herself. Why is he reacting differently toward me? A horn honked, and Darla jumped up.

"That's my ride. I'll be late coming home from school this afternoon, Mom, gymnastic practice and tryouts."

"All right. Good luck, sweetheart. I hope you make the team."

Darla had always been the athlete in the family. David was interested in math and science, not sports, but he wasn't what the kids called a nerd. With broad shoulders and a deep chest, he excelled in swimming, and always made the swim team.

When Darla rushed from the house, Carol turned to her son. He blushed and studiously studied the tabletop, and she wondered if he'd had another out-of-body episode.

The first time his consciousness took flight, David had been fourteen years old. Another year went by before his second out-of-body experience gripped his consciousness. Like the first one, Carol had been the subject of the scene he'd witnessed. She'd been seated in a restaurant with a friend having lunch that day, and he described the scene perfectly when she talked with him later. When he lapsed unconsciousness the second time, David had been in a friend's home. The second trip lasted longer, about a half hour, so when he woke up a paramedic was bending over him. His friend's mother had become frantic when she couldn't revive him and had called an ambulance. While he was in the hospital, Carol insisted on a battery of tests designed to detect seizures or strokes, but the doctors found nothing. Like the first time, the boy had declined to tell anyone about the visions. If the events had remained at only one per year, Carol wouldn't have been so worried. But the incidents had increased in frequency. During the last month they'd arrived about once a week, and she'd been the subject of all of his visions.

David didn't appear guilty when he went up to bed last night, she thought. So whatever happened took place between now and then. Suddenly, she blushed. He watched me! Saw me last night! She swallowed the excess saliva that had suddenly filled her mouth.

"You had another event, didn't you, David?"

He nodded, but wouldn't look at her.

"When?"

"Last night."

"Let me guess. It was about ten o'clock. Right?"

He flushed and nodded sheepishly.

"Damn it! Double damn it!" She plunked herself on the chair next to him and took his hand in both of hers.

"I'm sorry, Mom."

"Oh, it's not your fault, David. I know you have no control over those mental trips of yours, but damn it, I can't go through life worrying whether my privacy is being invaded or not. If you keep having these events, you need to learn how to control them." She chuckled. "Though I suspect even if you could control the length of your trips, you would've dallied to watch me last night."

"No, I'd have left you to your privacy."

Grinning widely, she said, "Liar. Well, what did you think of your old mom? Was I sexy?"

"Yeah." Another sheepish expression.

"Look at me, Son."

He raised his eyes, but then lowered them again.

"Yes, I masturbate. I'm a normal, healthy woman, Son, and my only sexual outlet is masturbation, though from now on, I'll do it under the sheets, not on top. I know you play with yourself, too. After all, I do the laundry. And it's my guess, you do it more than I."

"Probably," he muttered.

"Did seeing me excite or repel you?"

He raised his eyes again. "Mom, watching you last night was the sexiest thing that's ever happened to me. It was strange though. While watching you, I felt extremely excited, but when I reentered my body, I was... well, I was soft."

Carol chuckled. "Not for long, I bet."

David laughed. "No, not for long. I suspect my sheets will need to be laundered today." He glanced up at the clock. "I need to run, or I'll be late. May we talk some more about this tonight?"

"Of course."

After making her morning business calls, Carol stripped down and hopped in the shower. As she dried herself with a fluffy towel, she wondered if her son was hovering over her at that moment. Curiously, the thought excited her. Looking up, she winked. She reached and pinched first one baby-chewed nipple and then the other. Gazing at herself in the mirror, she said out loud, "Not bad for a thirty-seven-year-old woman with two teenaged kids." Her breasts were still perky. Oh, they sagged a bit, but not much, and she still had the same measurements she'd had when she married, except her hips had widened a little. David had obviously liked what he'd seen. He'd admitted to jacking off after reentering his body.

Naked, she strolled from her bedroom to his. Pulling down the covers, she inspected the sheet by running her fingers over the surface. Yes, she felt the crusted blotches of his semen. She groaned inwardly and felt twinges of arousal center in her pussy.

Was he watching now? Not likely. The events seemed to happen once a week, not every day, not yet, at least. Rolling over onto his bed, she raised her knees and splayed her legs. One hand went to her pussy, the other to a breast, and she fondled both. Closing her eyes, she pictured her son stretched out on the bed last night as she was lying on it now. In her mind's eye, she could see his cock, long and hard in his stroking fist. Her fingers reached inside her vagina and scooped up some of her natural lubricant, and as her fingers rolled around her clitoris, her imagination gave her a view of her son's busy hand stroking his cock.

Last night after his journey, he'd relived his vision and jacked off as he replayed the sight of her fingers in her pussy. Was he thinking about her now? Was he reliving the scene yet again? Was he sitting in a classroom with a hard-on while scrutinizing lewd images of her nakedness in his mind? Was he watching her play with her pussy? She groaned and shoved a second finger inside her.

Last night, he'd watched her shove fingers inside her like she was doing now, and instead of being embarrassed, like she should, the concept excited her beyond belief. She'd told him she would masturbate under the sheets from now on, but she wouldn't. She wanted him to see her, wanted him to watch. She knew her desire to be watched, especially by her own son, was indeed perverted, but she was the involuntary subject of his visions. Should she stop being herself merely because her son could observe her most private activities? Soon, she'd travel out of town to a trade show. No doubt she'd climb in bed with Hank again. She wasn't in love with the man, but she enjoyed sex with him, probably because she only saw him four times a year. Should she defer this necessary infrequent source of pleasure because her son could be watching?

She couldn't stop her son's invasions of her privacy any more than he could. With both of them victims to his curse, they could either accept the situation and go on with their lives or seek help from professionals to somehow eliminate his flights of consciousness. But if they sought help, David had the situation pegged correctly. He'd become a lab rat to those investigating paranormal incidents. And what or whom did his flights hurt? It wasn't as if he visited others during his journeys. He watched only her. She could cope with her loss of privacy to protect her son.

Besides, she'd just rediscovered the pleasure she felt when she was being surreptitiously watched. As a teenaged girl, she'd given a neighborhood boy a few thrills when he peeked in her window at night. Knowing the boy's eyes were on her, she'd stripped and eventually touched herself to increase the peeper's arousal - and hers. The peeper was harmless. She knew him. He was so shy he stuttered when he tried to talk to girls, but he wasn't shy about sneaking across a few fences and cozying up to her window. He'd masturbate and spray the bushes with his come while she stretched out on her bed and pleasured herself. She even left a light on and cracked the drapery enough so he could see her easily. Carol wasn't the only person he spied on, so eventually, the boy was caught. Afterwards, she'd missed his eyes avidly watching her, missed how exciting it had been to know he stood in the bushes outside her window with his cock in his hand.

"Are you watching me now, David?" she whispered as her fingers flashed back and forth over her clitoris. "I'm lying in your bed finger fucking myself. I can feel your dried come on the sheets under my bum. I wish it were wet. I'd rub it on my clit instead of using my own juices." She moaned. The thought of rubbing David's come all over her cunt made her arousal soar. "If you're watching, David, come on me. Let your consciousness tighten up your imaginary balls and spurt come, squirt your semen without substance or form all over me!"

Her body stiffened and her hips rose up from the bed. She plunged a third finger inside her and wailed as an orgasm gripped her. It was a powerful climax, more forceful and thrilling than the orgasm she'd given herself the night before. "Fuck me, David!" she shouted. "Fuck me with your cock, a cock without form or substance!"

She collapsed and a minute later rolled to her side. Tears welled in her eyes. "You're sick, Carol Stanley," she whispered. "David doesn't need professional help. You do."

Rolling from the bed, she stripped the sheets and carried them to the laundry room. Fantasies. She'd always let her mind wander, fantasizing about many things from love and sex to business and health. She'd just indulged in one of her fantasies. That's all it was.

David felt his cock lengthening, his fifth hard-on that morning. He couldn't stop the images from intruding, images he'd witnessed while his mother played with herself the night before. They invaded his mind without volition, moving from frame to frame like a video sometimes, or held steady as if they were still photographs at other times. It was bad enough his consciousness left his body whenever it had an urge to take flight. Now his imagination couldn't stop seeing his naked mother, couldn't stop reliving how naughty she'd looked, how sexy and... downright nasty. God, she'd been delightfully nasty, twisting her nipples, plunging fingers in and out of her pussy, the first real pussy David had ever seen.

When he'd returned from the journey, he'd expected to find himself as hard as he'd ever been, but while his consciousness was out of his body, it felt nothing, experienced nothing. But within seconds after his return, his cock had sprung straight up, assuming the already fully aroused state of his ego, and with just a few strokes, he'd climaxed, spurting semen onto his belly, which had dribbled off onto the sheets. A half-hour later, he'd jacked off again while reliving the event, and once more an hour later, then twice this morning, once just after he opened his eyes, and again in the shower.

His mother had been correct - without doubt he masturbated more than she. Her comment about invading her privacy bothered him, though. He wished he could willfully initiate and stop the events. The school no longer called an ambulance when he became unconscious, and he'd been careful to advise his friends and their parents not to become too concerned when he slumped over into an unconscious state, but still the events frequently embarrassed him.

Resting his back against a tree while sitting on the grass during his lunch break, David tried to ignore his hard-on and concentrated. He struggled desperately to initiate an event, but no pinpoint of light appeared. If he could learn to control the events would he stop them, he asked himself. If he could stop them would he never allow another one to take flight? No, he decided. His consciousness trips made him unique; they'd become personally important to him, a habit like masturbating. Besides, if he had another opportunity to watch his mother masturbate, he'd take it. Grinning, he remembered his lie, but his wise mother had called him on it. No, last night if he'd had control, he wouldn't have backed away leaving her to her privacy. As it was, the trip ended too soon for him. He hadn't seen her have an orgasm.