Substitute Seed

a Short Story

Copyright © May, 2001, Kellis



“I intend to fuck you,” he said calmly, loud enough to carry over birdsong, the summer wind in the trees and distant traffic, when she was about 20 feet away.

Her eyes widened slightly, the only immediate reaction.  Her long steps and wide-swinging hands never faltered.  She came on unhesitantly.

At half the distance her lip curled in a sneer.  “Is that your best pickup line?”

This was the first time he had heard her voice.  It was femininely high, pleasant to his ear despite the tone.

Both kept walking.  As they passed, each on the right, he turned his head to follow her and added in the same calm manner, “Whether you want it or not.”

Her eyebrows rose.  Looking back over her shoulder she snapped, “Then say what you mean.  You intend to rape me.”

He grunted, turned his back and continued to plod down the trail, a path through the thick stand of woods behind the school.  Others also used it for exercise, that modern replacement for religious immortality, but not at this hour.  Five days earlier he had begun this route, choosing suppertime precisely because of its solitude.  For four days he had seen no one else along it except this woman, whose schedule was apparently in striking agreement with his own.  They had met each day, except for a rainy one, at nearly the same spot on the trail.

She seemed to be about his own age, give or take a few years:  trim, with small breasts and wide female hips, evident despite the jogging clothes that both wore.  She was long-legged and nearly his own height.  His first close-up of her face had caused him almost to miss a step.  She could easily be made beautiful with a little makeup and professional attention for her hair, which was always straggling from a ponytail.  Her face was oval with a button nose and full, passionate lips that he wanted to kiss, to plunge his tongue between, to ravage.  He could not recall another woman who had generated such a desire in him.

On their first meeting and each subsequent one she had stared into his eyes as they approached.  That and her movement to the left edge of the trail were her only acknowledgments of his existence.  After the third such silent passage he had judged her a haughty and arrogant type, probably a Lesbian, probably enjoying her assertion of women’s right to use the trail freely as men.

Today his opening declaration had been spur-of-the-moment.  At least it had gotten a reaction!  Her sneer had galled him further, prompting him to raise the stakes, but upon reflection he was ashamed of issuing what she must regard as a serious threat.


* * *


Yesterday’s vow certainly failed to intimidate her!  At this point the trail ran straight for over a hundred yards.  As he turned into it he saw her do the same at the opposite end.  He smiled briefly, pleased at her resilience, when he saw that she was still alone.

But she walked with a different style.  A bag hung by her side, suspended from a strap on the opposite shoulder.  One hand was in the bag;  the other swung only slightly with each step.  She marched resolutely toward him.

Today when they were about 20 feet apart, she spoke first.  “I warn you:  I have a can of mace.”

He strode toward her, as usual moving to the right of the trail.  “Do you have it in your hand?”

“Yes, I do!”  She closed the distance, eyes flashing.

“Good!” he declared as they drew parallel, adding over his shoulder as they separated, “When you need it, you need it quickly.”

He walked on, wondering if she looked back, almost unable to bear the curiosity.  Afterwards he had to chuckle.  Was she disappointed that he gave her no excuse to use her weapon?


* * *


Twice more they met with her hand in the bag and her eyes locked on his, but neither said another word.  On the third meeting she had left off the bag.  Again both hands were swinging wide.

At their now customary opening distance he said, “So you found a smaller can, did you?”

“No,” she answered, closing the distance.  “I found I don’t need it.”  Her sneer was again very much in evidence.

It goaded him.  As they passed, he declared as if completing a sentence, “Right here on this trail.”

Her response was only a faint gasp.  He was strongly tempted to look back but pushed steadily on.  Again he felt a measure of shame after a while and shook his head in astonishment at himself.


* * *


She surprised him as they approached their next meeting.  Instead of moving to his left, at about 20 feet of separation she moved to his right, directly before him, and stopped.  When he moved to the left to go around her on that side of the trail, she sidestepped to stand in front of him again.  Necessarily he came to a stop, eyes narrowing in inquiry.  At least she had no mace bag.  Both hands dangled limply at her sides.  Suddenly he noticed other differences.  She was wearing a T-shirt instead of her customary tank top and for the first time she sported earrings, large gold loops.  No wisp of hair had escaped her ponytail.  Her face seemed smoother.

She took a deep breath and blushed.  “Well, here I am.”

“That’s clear,” he retorted dryly.

“I’m defenseless.”

“Do you need defending?”

“Don’t you think I should?”

They stared at each other.  He took a deep breath.  “Look, this has gone far —”

As he spoke her hands crossed in front of herself and jerked her T-shirt off over her head to fall on a nearby bush.  Today she wore no brassiere.  Her small but well-rounded breasts jiggled freely when she straightened up to glare at him.  The nipples were distinct in small areolas.  He had only a quick impression before her hands shoved baggy shorts down to her ankles.  She pulled one large shoe through its leg opening and stood up again.  Her belly was flawless, smoothly rounded below a dimpled navel.  Her pubic hair was trimmed but thick.

“No, it hasn’t!” she declared.  Her hands balled into fists.

“It … hasn’t?”

“Hasn’t gone far enough.”  She took another very deep breath as her blush deepened.  “You said you meant to rape me here in the woods.  Well, I can’t stand the suspense.”

He felt heat on his own face.  “Uh, ma’am, I never used that word.”

Her eyes flashed.  “Damn you, don’t you try to weasel out!  If you won’t do it to me, I’ll swear you did anyway.”

“Good god!”  He felt his mouth fall open.  “B-but … what if someone comes along?”

She sniffed.  “It’s suppertime!”  She stood with hands on well-padded hips and lifted her chin.  “You said you would fuck me, whether I wanted it or not, right here on this path.  Do you admit those words?”

“I guess … I have to.”  Did she have a recorder concealed on — huh!  Not on her person!

“Well, then, are you a man of your word or just a man of words?”

“Ah, eh, well …”  He stood dumbfounded with sagging chin.

Staring at his expression, she chuckled and shook her head.  “At least you’re not running away.”

One step put her within arm’s reach.  Deftly her hands clutched the top of his shorts on either side and pulled them, underpants and all, down to his knees.  She dropped to her own knees in the dust of the path.  Her hand raised the shriveled manhood to her lips, where she sucked it into her mouth.

“Holy Christ!” he declared, staring down in disbelief at the bobbing head.  He found his voice.  “What in the hell are you doing?  That is, what are you up to?  Look, I didn’t mean anything by those remarks.  You’re a beautiful and desirable woman.  The first time I saw you I wanted to kiss you, to plunge my tongue into your mouth…  My god, I can’t believe what’s in it now!”

The head continued to bob back and forth, taking in the whole growing organ.

He added, “You only stared me in the eye every time we met.  I decided you were a haughty bitch who needed taking down a peg, but I’m ashamed of the way …”

His voice ran down as he felt the first stirring of pleasure.  She backed away from a straining erection, caught his hands in hers and pulled him down upon her as she rolled back into the dust.  He entered her with a slight difficulty, beginning with very short strokes, holding his upper weight off her with hands extended into the dust.  She sighed gustily when at last he sank full length within her.  Her hands came up under his tank top, forcing it up to his armpits, and circled around his back, pulling herself up against his naked chest.

“You wanted to kiss me,” she reminded him, staring from eyes only inches away.

He began to thrust, long slow strokes, as they kissed.  Her hips answered his.  She sucked in his tongue, swabbing it with her own.  When his withdrew, hers followed into his mouth.  Saliva overflowed from both.  Suddenly this became the most passionate sexual encounter of his recent memory.

He lifted his head and warned, panting, “I can’t hold back.”

Her response was to slide hands down his back to clutch his buttocks cheeks, then raise her knees and wrap her legs around him also.  Clearly he would not be allowed to withdraw.  Did she want seminal fluid to prove his guilt?  But he was already beyond such speculation.  Groaning, aware only of the supreme pleasure in his gut, he emptied several days’ accumulation into her eager receptacle.

Dazedly he backed off her.  Immediately she got to her feet, stepped back into the leg of her shorts and snatched them up around her waist.  In a jiffy the T-shirt descended over head and torso.  She hardly looked at him before turning away, head down, to march up the trail.

“W-wait a minute!” he called, getting to his feet and staring after her.  “We have to talk!”

Her only response was to increase the length of her stride.  “Please wait!” he begged.

She turned her torso to regard him while continuing to walk.  “I’m leaving before you think you have to kill me to keep me quiet.”

Kill you?  I love you!”  As he declared it, he realized it was true.

She responded with a peal of harsh and sarcastic laughter before facing away and continuing her retreat, one hand clutching her groin — or so he concluded from the way she pulled its elbow into her side.

“Don’t worry,” he called ironically, “all of it won’t run out!”

She ignored his sally.  He stared after her, pulling up his shorts.  She dwindled and shortly disappeared around the distant curve in the trail.  He shook his head, taking a deep breath.  “My god,” he muttered aloud, “I guess I’m ruined.”  Briefly he felt anger at both the woman and himself.  Her claim to find the suspense intolerable hardly made sense, considering all the alternatives available to her.  Batty broads!  Who could understand them?

Batty himself, he realized, if he hung around there any longer.  Her specimen of his DNA would be useless without another to match against.  He broke into a departing run.


* * *


It rained the next two days.  He had time to think and to realize that this woman was on his mind to stay.  On the third day he drove to his entrance of the trail just before suppertime, parking among other cars half a block away, and turned his binoculars on the break in the trees.  About ten minutes after his normal entry time he spied her, emerging at her usual fast walk.  She looked just the same, even wearing a T-shirt as on their last encounter instead of her more usual tank top.  She turned up the street toward the distant traffic.  Doubtlessly she would complete her stroll on the sidewalks, as he did, back around to her parking place near the trail’s other entrance, except of course in the opposite direction.

She had nearly reached the street corner when he decided no one else would follow her from the woods.  He started up and drove around the opposite block, parking in the lot near that entrance.  No one emerged from the trees on this side, either, before she appeared at the distant street corner and turned toward him.

He asked himself incredulously, “Didn’t she squeal?”

Apparently not.  No police car waited near either entrance, and if cops were in the woods they were playing it cagier than he would have believed.  He contemplated ducking down and noting the car she used, perhaps following her home, but a curious sense of indelicacy rose in his mind at the thought.  What would he do if he found out, stalk her?  Shaking his head, he started up and drove away in the opposite direction.


* * *


But he had to see her again, he concluded after a nearly sleepless night.  He plunged into the woods at the usual time on the following day, careful to keep the same steady march that he had always employed.  Just as he entered the straight stretch, he was rewarded with sight of her turning into the far end of it.  They proceeded unhesitantly toward each other.

She was wearing the original tank top without jewelry.  When they were 20 feet apart, she stopped in the middle of the trail.  “You’re back!” she noted, hands crossing in front of her.  She flung the tank top over a bush.  Today she was wearing a white brassiere.

His approach slowed as he stared at her.  “We need to talk.”

She ignored his words.  Bending, she forced shorts and panties to her ankles, stepped out of them with both feet, twitched them aside and lay down upon her back in the dust of the track, knees apart and raised, pudendal area open to him, staring up at him with hands behind her head.

Talk was obviously not on her mind.

She had sucked him erect at their previous encounter.  With an intake of breath he sank to his knees before her and bent forward, face between her legs.  He was not inexperienced at this maneuver and in fact rather enjoyed it.  Soon her hips began slightly to rock and her cool thighs closed on his ears.  At this evidence of her arousal he attacked the clitoris itself lightly but fast as his tongue would move.  She shuddered violently and forced his head away.

He paused, rising up enough to see her face.  Mouth open to pant, she stared at him hungrily, stretching her legs apart so far that her hipbones creaked.  Quickly lowering both sets of his shorts, he let himself down upon her.  Today her hand guided the entrance.  Her legs and arms enclose him.  He gave her more of his weight, hands reaching along her sides to clutch her rocking buttocks.  They kissed as they had before with probing tongues.  Her nostrils flared.  Shortly she began to moan with each exhalation.

Presuming that she was on the pill, no longer concerned about the evidentiary deposit, shivering at full penetration, he surrendered to ecstasy and filled her vagina with his ejaculation.  She cried out, a long wail, her body tense as his own.

They lay briefly in contact, recovering their breath, but when he rose on his extended arms, her hands at his chest forced him farther back.  Deftly she withdrew herself from beneath him, legs flashing between his arms, and sprang to her feet to retrieve her clothing.

He rose on his knees.  “Please wait!  We do have to talk.”

She was pulling on her shorts.  “What is there to talk about?  You can’t do it again for half an hour and I can’t wait that long.”

“But … but …  Who are you, for god’s sake?”

The tank-stop settled over her head.  “It’s better that we don’t know each other,” she retorted without looking at him.  Suddenly she was marching away up the trail.

He stood up, pulling up his own pants, and stared after her.  “Do what in half an hour?”

She called over her shoulder, “Come.”

“Maybe not, but I can make you come a lot sooner.”

His confident claim produced no reaction.  She continued at her same steady pace.  He thought of running after her, of forcing her to tell him about herself.  Force her how — threaten to throw her down and rape her?  If she outran him he could probably intercept her on the street as she returned to her car, but why bother?  She would tell him nothing so long as she wanted them to remain intimate strangers.

He shook his head.  That was a man’s attitude toward the whores he might hire.  Presumably whores felt the same, but this was no whore.  He sighed.  What was she in fact — other than a beautiful batty broad?


* * *


Of the next four weekdays one was rainy, but she met him on the other three.  Her timing was off slightly on one.  He had to wait in the middle of the straight section for two minutes before she appeared.  She stifled his demand for explanation with sudden fellatio.  Each day she wore jewelry and a T-shirt with no brassiere.  Each encounter ended the same as the others:  a vagina soaking in seminal fluid and no information exchanged.

A weekend intervened before their next meeting.  He used the time to reconnoiter the woods.  When she met him on the following Monday, he took her elbow as she lowered it from removing the T-shirt, and led her into an almost imperceptible path at right angles to the trail.

“What’re you doing?” she demanded.

“Getting us a little more privacy,” he explained in his prepared speech.  “This is a popular place.  It’s incredible that nobody has caught us.”

She gritted her teeth, pulling back.  “I don’t want privacy.”

“Well, I do!  Come on, now.  It’s only a little further.”

T-shirt in one hand, she let him pull her reluctantly into a small, grassy clearing hardly two yards square.

“And this will be easier on your back and my knees,” he added, releasing her to disrobe himself.

Naked except for her running shoes, she lay back on the grass.  But he only stood above her in contemplation, flaccid organ dangling.

With a snort she rolled herself impatiently forward and took him in her mouth.  When he was fully erect, back she went with legs spread expectantly.  He knelt between them, licked her a few times to be sure of her readiness, then lowered himself in penetration with arms extended to keep most of his weight off her.  He began to thrust. 

Her hips rolled to match him but she soon frowned.  “What’s the matter?”

“You won’t tell me your name.  All right, I can accept that, since I have to.  But tell me one thing.  Why do you do this?”

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.  At last she retorted, “Why do you?”

“I told you:  I love you.”

“Love!” she exclaimed in derision.  “You don’t know anything about me at all.”

“I know the way you look, the way you sound, the way you smell and oddly enough, the way you feel inside.  For a million years the human race reproduced itself on no more than that.”

She emitted a little snort and added, “What an interesting choice of words!”

“It’s true!  I understand my motive, even though it’s so risky that it’s stupid, but what about yours?  Is it pheromones?”

“Pheromones!  That’s crap.”

“Then what is it?  I need to know what keeps this going.  It didn’t start with rape, you know.”

“Didn’t it?”  Her eyes implied secret laughter.

He took a breath and said flatly, “I need to find out if we have any future together.”

Her lip curled.  “Let me put your mind at rest.  The answer to that is a big, emphatic, ‘No!’  I’ll quit coming here when this warm weather ends, hopefully sooner.”  Her eyes flashed.  “Hopefully next week!  And that will be the end for us.”

He paused.  At the look on his face she sighed.  “Look, for eight years I’ve been a happily married woman, socially, financially and almost every other way.  Nothing shall be allowed to hazard that.  And no, don’t tell me whether you’re married or not.  I don’t care.”

“Then why … this?”  He executed a deep thrust.

She grinned sourly.  “You may not want to know.”

“But I do want to know!”

“All right.  You have blue eyes, rather wide-spaced.  You have strawberry blond hair that’s thin and straight.  You have a short neck.  You’re somewhat tall with a medium build, and your face is strikingly familiar.  The main mismatch is your chin.  It’s a little too square.”

When it was clear she had said all she wanted, he asked in confirmation, “So I’m the kind of man you were looking for?”

“Yes.”  She laughed slightly.  “And to think I almost didn’t realize it!  Now come on and do right by the woman you claim to love.”

He resumed thrusting and soon inseminated her in the usual manner.  Other than a groan that matched his, she did not speak another word.


* * *


It rained four days of the next week, but she went to the clearing with him on each of the other three.  He asked no more questions, determined to enjoy her body for so long as she would permit it.  She was certainly having orgasms on each encounter, sometimes two or three, though she allowed him only one.  His confidence in her dependency grew.  As they were dressing on the seventh day, he mentioned as much to her.

“You can’t mean to give this up,” he suggested jocularly as he pulled up his shorts.

“I admit it’s been heaven.”  She even smiled at him.

“Well, then?

“Well, what?  You’re not the only angel around, you know.”

Her implication stopped him.  “I can’t believe you’d find the match for us just anywhere!”

“I already have the match,” she retorted, turning away toward the trail.

Following close behind, he could only respond weakly, “You have?”

“Oh, yes.”  She giggled.  “And he’s so much like you, you’d be amazed!”

He stopped on the trail but called after her, “Will you come tomorrow?”

She actually stopped ten feet away to look back at him.  “No.  I won’t be here tomorrow.  Not for the next week.  If I come back at all, it will be a week from today exactly.  No.  Make that eight days.”

“But …  What’s happening?  Are you going out of town?”

“Nothing so dramatic.”  Her eyes twinkled.  “Either I get my period or I don’t.  Either way I won’t be here tomorrow.”

He felt cold.  “What do you mean, if you don’t get your period?”

“That’s why it’s so important that you resemble my husband!”  With a peal of laughter, she spun and for the first time ran away from him up the trail.


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