A Wind Shear

A Wind Shear is a story about a woman who is skating on the edge of insanity. It is the interplay between the conscious and the unconscious; between real life and a barely repressed fantasy life. Because the balance has become so precarious she finds herself helpless before fantasies that threaten to overwhelm her at any moment. Alarmed, she seeks help but only to find that a male presence in the closeness of a small office only serves to cause a powerful upsurge in her barely repressed fantasies.

*****

Yesterday she took a really big hit, the worst so far, and it seemed to last a long time. It scared the hell out of her! They were coming more frequently now, and each one harder and longer than the last. When they first started Meredith wondered if she was coming down with something, maybe the flu. But now she knew it was more than that. Something was dreadfully wrong! The last one was more like a whole-body seizure.

In the wake of that episode, she had been left profoundly shaken, trembling, and scared out of her wits. There was a queer, disorienting feeling, and there was something else. She felt a curious tingle of arousal, a quickening, definitely sexual arousal it put her on edge. She spent the rest of the day horny, and in a daze, thinking constantly of sex. And she didn't sleep at all that night, terrified, convinced she going out of her mind!

They had started a week ago. The first "wind shear" - those were the words that came to her mind - was no more than a wave of dizziness that swept over her and just as quickly evaporated. She shrugged it off; vaguely wondering if she really was too young to be having hot flashes. But later that day another one hit her; the next day, two more in rapid succession. Sufficiently alarmed by now, she immediately called her doctor.

Her doctor did all the usual tests, but she could find nothing wrong. She put her on Prozac; it didn't help. Then she suggested, somewhat tentatively, that Meredith see a psychotherapist.

And so she ended up at Dr. Glass's. As it happened, Meredith was on her way downtown to the doctor's office when the massive one overtook her, slamming into her with hard thud that took her breath away. When she recovered, leaning over and gasping on the sidewalk, the hot flash had settled in, and on its heels the sudden warmth, the wooziness that left her so weak she had to sit down, or lean against something solid while she panted, struggling to regain her equilibrium. Then came the shearing noise, like sheet of paper being torn, and the world around her blurred into a shimmering haze for a few panic-stricken seconds before abruptly snapping back into place: perfectly clear and reassuringly solid, just as before.

But now, there was a difference; Meredith found herself in a bright new reality! It was a weird out-of-body experience. Suddenly, she saw herself moving as in a dream in some intense, unbelievably wild, erotic experience - one that left her tingling and breathless with sexual anticipation.

Before her was a girl, just a few paces in front of her, walking briskly away. From behind she could see that the girl was tall and slender, built like her, with the same helmet of smooth caramel streaked hair, gently curved and falling to the collar. The girl was striding down the street with determination as though in a hurry, and Meredith felt the urge to keep up with her.

But the most startling thing was the way the girl dressed. She was all in black; an erotic outfit of shiny latex. A short vest tightly hugged her thin, small-breasted body, and leaving bare her long arms and lanky shoulders. A shockingly tiny miniskirt swished along her striding thighs as she moved with arrogant indifference. She seemed oblivious of the devastating effect she was having on passersbys, brazenly showing off those elegant legs sheathed in long black stockings, sleek calves encased in high leather boots.

The girl could be her twin - an evil twin sister, Meredith thought. (She herself would never be caught dead in such an outrageous outfit!) But she instinctively knew: this girl was not her sister. It was herself. It was as though she was watching herself strolling down the street. She stood by - a detached observer, watching the brazen young woman, admiring that proud high-heeled strut, the provocative sway of those mini-skirted hips.

Suddenly, she felt she had to talk to the booted girl. She was running, chasing after her, her heart racing, her pulse pounding. She was right behind her when she reached out to touch her shoulder; the girl spun around to face her.

Meredith was stunned. The face she saw, the face that met hers - was her own, looking back at her as in a closely-held mirror! Under the familiar fringe of bangs, she found herself staring into dark brown eyes that were wide open and curiously glazed over. And just below those startling, unseeing zombie-eyes, were the lips and mouth, splattered with a sticky white gruel: the unmistakable residue of male climax dribbled down her chin. Some man had used her, left his cum on her face!

It was lust, pure lust that powered up in her, radiated through her entire body, shook her like the racking prelude to an orgasm. She was in the grip of an overpowering urge to touch her vagina, her "pussy", her "cunt". The words came to her with new power. The throbbing yearning to pleasure herself proved irresistible, her hand moving down between her legs with a will of its own.

The world shimmied once again in a dizzying blur, and when it snapped back, Meredith was left standing there on the street flushed and sweating...and to her surprise, definitely wet between her shaking legs. Had she actually touched herself...there? In public; on the street? She was back on familiar 7th Avenue, once more among the indifferent crowd of New Yorkers, a few of whom looked at her with mild concern before moving to sidestep the well-dressed, staggering woman as they hurried by.

***

By the time she managed to pull herself together enough to stagger to the doctor's office, Meredith was verging on a state of sheer panic. She was convinced of it: she was losing her mind!

Leonard Glass watched in alarm as his clearly distraught patient rushed past him, as though fleeing to the sanctuary of his inner office. Meredith gratefully collapsed onto the couch, still shaking from her harrowing experience. After a few calming words from her concerned therapist, she was able to take a deep breath, shake herself, close her eyes, and begin to babble out her strange tale.

In a voice that told of her desperation she described the disturbing experience to a keenly interested Dr. Glass. How the shearing snap came over her so suddenly, blew her away and left her disoriented...and curiously aroused. She told him of the scariness of the disturbing erotic scene, so vivid, so real. The booted girl...herself... with that... and here she faltered, deeply humiliated at what she had to tell...gooey "stuff" all over her face. Her faltering voice broke. Dr. Glass looked down on the lowered head of his shaken patient, and patiently waited while she composed herself enough to continue.

She told him how the hissing blur came back over her, swirling around her once again. How things jiggled than instantly snapped back into reality. Once again, Meredith had been welcomed back to the real world. All around her people were going about their lives, paying little attention to the slightly disoriented woman teetering on her heels, reeling on the sidewalk as though she were drunk. The massive wind shear had left her wobbly, frightened, and profoundly, deeply shaken.

***

Her hand trembled as she reached for the coffee Leonard thoughtfully provided. As she sat on the couch, Meredith turned to look up at the therapist who stood hovering at her side. Her agonized eyes met kindly ones that seemed to regard her with fatherly concern. It suddenly occurred to her: what a handsome man, an amazingly attractive man, Dr. Leonard Glass actually was! He was tall and masterful, looming over her; an older, wiser man with those gaunt chiseled feature and those steady gray eyes - eyes that pierced her soul.

Dr. Glass was fascinated. He readily admitted that he was puzzled by the strange symptoms his new patient reported, but he didn't seem to be terribly alarmed. He spoke to her in low caring voice, slowly and deliberately, calming her. These things were a sort of dream that intruded on her consciousness, he explained. Not exactly a day dream; more like a nightmare with all its emotional impact. He was sure there was some sort of psychological explanation, and together, they would work to get to the bottom of it.

Meredith wasn't so sure, but she was profoundly grateful for the Doctor's warmth and self-assurance.

He had her lie back on the velvety chaise lounge he used as his couch. Her head and shoulders, slightly elevated, resting comfortably on the scrolled pillow at one end, while her legs extended lengthwise along the forest green of the plush padding.

From behind her, she heard his chair shift closer. She sensed his nearness, his presence, his male presence. The doctor was seated just beside and slightly behind his supine patient. Leonard leaned back in the solid comfort of his old wing-backed chair, splayed elbows planted on the arms of well-worn brown leather, hands clasped as though deep in thought as he looked down on her benevolently and led his pretty patient back through the past few weeks of her life.

She sent her mind back to the time of the first wind shear, probing, searching for some clue.

She began telling him about her days, her routine, and as she talked a vague feeling stirred inside her. There was something there. Her thoughts kept coming back to her computer. She could see it where it sat ensconced in her home office, as though patiently waiting for her. She saw herself sitting there one sleepless night a few weeks ago, bored, her face bathed in the blue glow of the screen as she idly surfed in the wee small hours of the morning.

From this vantage point, Leonard found himself looking down with appreciation of his patents' evocative feminine beauty, his eyes adoring the crest of shiny chestnut hair. Meredith had dressed for the warm summers day in a light-weight dress, a cotton print that hung from thin straps nicely leaving exposed a considerable portion of her upper chest and her lightly-tanned shoulders. Safely seated behind her, he could let his eyes study her laid out body without fear of being caught looking. And now he visually caressed her small-mounded breasts, those darling little titties of hers. He had once heard a woman's breasts described as "two fried eggs," and the phrase came floating up from somewhere as he contemplated Meredith C.'s lithe, gently-swelling bosom.

Lost in her memories, she was telling her admirer about how she overheard the girls at work giggling, all abuzz about some new website one of them had stumbled across. Mildly curious, and with only a few words that she caught, she did a quick search.

What opened before her amazed eyes was captivating! A dark and forbidding place, a candle-lit castle that beckoned in its flickering light with all the allure of a gothic romance. It was one of those sites where master and slaves fantasies were given virtual reality, replete with exotic leather outfits. There were bare-chested man and naked women striding about wearing collars and impossibly high boots. The unfolding erotic images captivated her: Women on their knees, with strong masterful men looming over them offering a swollen penis, to be taken into the mouth; the head bowed in an act that heralded the ecstasy of sublime submission.

That night, when she finally got tired enough to sleep, Meredith had an intense dream - so real she couldn't decide if she was wake or asleep.

Four naked women knelt on a thickly carpeted floor. Meredith was there along with three other nurses from the office. To her left was Adrienne, and across from the two them, Whitney and Brooke, also completely naked, knelt upright, waiting patiently. No one spoke. Like Meredith, the others knelt erect, holding themselves perfectly still. Like her, they were all wore the leather collars of slave girls; their purpose, to serve; their greatest joy, to be used, to offer themselves for pleasure.

The next day the disturbing fantasies had persisted, interrupting her waking hours, and later that night she was torn by the first wind shear.

There was a pause. Doctor and patient waited. Leonard Glass sat flushed and excited, dabbing his brow, warmed by the account of his pretty patient as she lay there, telling him her most vivid sexual fantasies. His penis was stirring in a very unprofessional manner to the point where it pressed hard against the crotch his trousers so that he had to shift in his chair in an effort to hide his obvious arousal.

When the silence grew longer and no response came from her Doctor, she turned to look up at him. He found himself looking down into those deep brown eyes, and he knew he was hopelessly in love.

Suddenly, those eyes took on a look of pleading desperation. Did he think she was going crazy? she whispered urgently. An overpowering need to comfort the girl, welled up in him. His eyes took in that pretty face, the shining brown eyes, so earnestly hopeful, and the wide lips, that tired a smile, looking for his reassurance. Although Dr. Glass was one of those professionals who scrupulously observed the therapists prohibition against touching his female patients, he now saw his hand moving with a life of its own, reaching out to her. He tried to control his shaking fingers they came made their first contact with Meredith's bare shoulder in an effort to bestow what he hoped was a re-assuring pat.

At his slightest touch, the woman shuddered. Leonard instantly recoiled in panic, as though his fingers had been burned. But his sudden fear that she was about to protest, was all wrong. To the contrary, the simple touch of the man's fingers on her bare skin had electrified the girl! Simmering erotic feelings from deep inside her now flared up, forming into a hard ache of intense sexual longing. She jacked up, quivered, shook herself like a high-strung mare, and jumped to her feet, all in one quick blur.

"Meredith," he cried out, and as he reeled backward she grab for the startled therapist, throwing her arms around him. She hauled him in, squeezing him to her, grinding her hot body into his. Her lips were everywhere, all over his face, his cheeks, his lips, down his neck as she hungrily made her way in an orgy of discovery.

"Oh...gawd...take me, take me, take me," the frantic woman groveled, her face buried in the crook of his neck, her arms tightening in a grip of sheer desperation.

"M...Meredith," was all he could manage to get out, and that in a barely strangled plea.

Like a mad woman, she was single-mindedly attacking his clothes, tearing at jacket and shirt, and Leonard was now happily joining in, alive and tingling with excitement, as he fumbled for the zipper in the back of her dress. By the time her loose dress was down to her hips, she had the man bare-chested. Eager hands flew over his body, as she followed up with mouth and lips and tongue, kissing her way all over his chest, and down lower to his belly, pausing only at the belt line.

Her hands were working open his belt buckle; his pants, down and off, and the lust-driven woman went right for his briefs. She hauled them down his bare legs, freeing a surging erection that sprung up in its newly-freed eagerness. By this time, Meredith was in her underwear. She was breathing heavily, standing just inches away from the surging cock that stood in tribute to her beauty. She was looking him right in the eyes, as she reached up behind her back to find the catch of her brassiere. The bra fell from her heaving breasts, dangled loosely from her shoulders. She swept it aside, and bending over so that her small breasts swayed forward, quickly ran her panties down her legs. Steeping free of them, she eagerly kicked them aside in a wild fling. Now she was naked, deliciously, totally naked in front of the man whose eyes lit up with sincere appreciation.

Then, before the shell-shocked therapist could react to this splendid sight, she fell to her knees before him.

She looked up at him from under that loose splay of silken bangs; big brown eyes searching his, as her hands came up to clamp his hairy thighs. Leonard was speechless, elated, wildly, inanely pleased to see his beautiful patient on her knees before him. He couldn't help smiling as he looked down on the girl as he saw her naked tits, soft and delicate, with wide darkened nipples.

She snuggled against him, pressing her cheek to his upright cock, rubbing her face greedily all over his rock-hard penis, reveling in the feel of his manhood like a great big sensual cat. Then she bestowed on his taut prick a single kiss, followed by a quick lick down its quivering length that sent an electric thrill shooting through him so he had to whimper. He bit his curled lip as her lively tongue slithered wetly down to the base to dart into his crotch and lick his furry balls.

As she nuzzled there, in his hairy crotch, savoring his musky smell, her hand came up to grab his straining cock. Feminine fingers curled around the base of his erect manhood, held him in tight grip, as the girl came up to take him in. She lowered her head, bringing pursed lips to his surging prick. The first touch of her lips was no more than a perfunctory kiss yet the piercing thrill sent him rocking back on his heels. The kiss was followed by the more deliberate probing by her flattened tongue, which now swirled lavishly over the thick, lust-swollen head. Leonard groaned helplessly at the delicious feel of that wet, slithering tongue paying slavish tribute to his manhood. The thrill was indescribable; he watched her slowly bow her head, open her mouth to accept his throbbing stiffened penis in that erotic act so beautiful, so disarmingly evocative, so feminine, so profoundly submissive.

Through half-lidded eyes, he looked down on the girl in astonishment. She was flicking her tongue at the very tip of his cock, then she licked crown thoroughly before running her stiffened tongue slowly down the straining phallus until she reached the puff of pubic hair at the base. There she reversed herself and started back up again using broad flat strokes along the shaft. She eased back to admire her handiwork: the solid, upright phallus, throbbing in the air, glistening with her saliva.

The sight of that fully-aroused penis in the flush of sexual excitement, so close at hand, sent an erotic thrill knifing through Meredith. Burning with the intolerable heat, the woman renewed her attack with increased enthusiasm, working him over with single-minded devotion, wild excitement spurring her on. Soon she was rewarded with a groan that came rumbling up from deep in his throat resonated through his rigid arching body and turned into a low shivering moan. The kneeling woman re-doubled her efforts, looking up from under her bangs as his eyes fluttered closed and the smile of bliss that came over his face told her that the man was fully savoring the delicious ripples of excitement she was sending through him.

His hands came down to clamp her naked shoulders; he held onto her as he let the delectable experience of having Meredith C.'s lapping tongue slithering along his rigid shaft wash over him. He would concentrate on savoring every scintilla of pleasure, each delicious sliver of the rapturous delight: The electric thrill of that small soft hand that took up his cock, cool fingers curling around the base, tightening; pursed lips so soft and heavenly, opening, sliding down to engulf the swollen head of his penis; and the delightful way she used that lively tongue, even as her other hand cupped his tight hairy scrotum, to give him a gentle squeeze before she taking him once more into her warm, receptive mouth.