Summer in Savannah

Summer in Savannah
Copyright ©2005 by Crystal Barela

Summer in Savannah was wet and sticky like the insides of Joanne’s thighs after a dirty thought. This afternoon she’d had plenty, lying in the backyard this afternoon and missing her lover. She was in a hammock; glasses perched upon her long nose and a book open across her belly. But her thoughts weren’t of the pages between the worn cover, or the canopy of blue above her, interlaced with the branches of oak trees and the creeping hangings of Spanish moss.

This hammock held memories of her childhood.

Afternoon lemonade while her momma sipped mint juleps and her father threw the Frisbee with her dog Patches. Grandma snapping sweet sugar peas and the two of them eating just as many raw as found their way to the dinner table at night. Kissing Bobby Wickum before she knew what sex was and discovering that sex was only right if it were a woman’s body she touched.

Tonight it would be where she proposed to Kim.

They’d met in New York through a want ad in The Village Voice. Kim had wanted a nude model for her photo projects, and Joanne had wanted to do something her parents would completely disapprove of.

It was a surprise to find that having Kim’s camera lens focusing on her body was a turn-on. The way Kim would bite her lip in between showers of compliments as the shutter clicked again and again. How Kim, seemingly without thinking, would approach Joanne and move an arm to a better position, brush a breast, stand too close.

The sun was setting, turning the water beside Joanne into a golden pool. Bits of white light were caught and scattered across the pond’s surface, when Kim’s familiar lanky silhouette approached. The camera was a limb, just as an arm or leg and it rose in greeting, documenting Kim surroundings and her lover.

“It’s just as you described,” Kim said approaching the hammock. She knelt on the grass and brought her nose within an inch of Joanne’s. “You’ve gotten some sun.”

“An afternoon in a hammock will do that.”

“You smell like sunlight.”

“Miss the city, do you?”

“Not one bit.”

Their lips met in a soft kiss, both of them remembering the many sighs and moments in each other’s arms. They had only been apart a week, but it felt like years for both of them.

Kim stood and took hold of her lover’s skirt hem. Slowly, she rolled the white cotton fabric up Joanne’s long sun drenched legs, revealing knobby knees and soft thighs. Joanne’s mound was natural, wild riots of curly red hair, a fire between her legs and skimming her belly.

“What are you thinking?” Joanne asked, letting her knees fall open.

Kim brought her camera up and focused the lens on Joanne’s bush. The shutter clicked several times.

“Every one of those freckles will kiss my tongue tonight.”

Kim set her camera on the ground then stepped out of her khaki shorts, revealing a tattoo of a black swan soaring towards her neatly trimmed bush, as if about to take up residence in the nest of silky hair.

The hammock swayed as Kim climbed onboard, nearly toppling them to the soft grass beneath. Their giggles echoed across the water as Kim’s toes found purchase in the cool green blades, steadying them in a gentle sway.

Firmly astride her lover’s hips, Kim took hold of the hem of her black tank top and threw it over her head, breasts lifting toward the sky. The hammock danced slowly, and Joanne enjoyed the bounce of her lover’s breasts and the tangle of their reunited pussy hair.

They lay as one, stomach and breasts pressed firmly together, elbows framing Joanne’s face.

“I’ve missed you.”

Kim rested her cheek on one hand, and lowered the other along waist and hip to tug on Joanne’s bush. The blush that spread across her lover’s skin wet Kim’s pussy and inspired licks and nibbles along her jaw. When they made love Joanne was on fire, her skin glowing like embers were lit beneath her.

“You’ve been thinking of me,” Kim murmured.

Joanne’s pussy was damp, her lips silky and hot clinging to Kim’s fingers, pulling her hand deeper into a moist embrace.

When they’d met, Joanne would have been too shy to fuck in her parents’ backyard, not that she would have admitted it. Nearly two years later and a slave to the lens, she flaunted her body naturally. She moved in ways that best caught the light and most flattered her figure.

Kim picked up a rhythm, the hammock swaying front and back between the tall trees, her fingers sliding deeper and deeper. Joanne’s clit was rock hard.

Breasts that cast a near perfect shadow in the right lighting were salty and damp after an afternoon outdoors. Joanne’s nipples were hard little pebbles and when Kim drew one into her mouth, Joanne’s hands cradled her head like she was a baby, pulling her close.

Kim felt like an infant gaining sustenance. Joanne made her feel that way. Desperate, hungry and needy.

Someone overhearing them might have thought the sounds were children playing as their sighs echoed across the water, if it weren’t accompanied by the wet sticky sound of fingers in pussy. The wet noises mixed with the buzz of the insects, whispered I love yous, and the croaking of frogs.

Joanne’s fingers twined with Kim’s, each finding the other’s excited nubbin. Kim sat up, riding Joanne like she was on a rocking horse, cannon-balling down a race track. The hammock swayed dangerously but they fucked harder. Their names a chorus until Kim’s fingers were caught in Joanne’s velvet crush, knuckles aching, making her come in turn.

They were still, Kim snuggling into a spot next to Joanne, the stars glowing down at them. She pulled Joanne closer and leaned over to kiss her cheeks, only to find them covered in tears.

“Baby?” Kim kissed them away. “What’s wrong?”

“I love you so much,” Joanne whispered. She began to sob, overcome with emotion.

“I love you, too.”

This amazing woman, this talented, beautiful woman, loved her.

Kim held Joanne close, tracing her vertebrae, and whispering soothingly until she was still, her breathing even.

“I spoke to my parents,” Joanne whispered.

The family luncheon had not gone well, and she felt guilty for putting the hope in her lover’s heart that they would welcome Kim with warm hugs and soft kisses on her cheeks. The stories Joanne had told had given the impression of a loving, open, adoring family. Turns out they were only free-thinkers when it came to other people’s children.

Daddy thought her attraction to women was a phase and that she would settle down with Bobby. Momma wanted a big wedding where she could invite all the local society women, and that wasn’t going to happen if Joanne married Kim. Joanne would become the dirty little secret no one spoke of.

With a sigh and a mall smile, Joanne reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out a gold band studded with rows and rows of diamonds.

“What’s this?” Kim asked.

“This is the Woodward family ring.”

The hammock was still as the air and the silence of crickets.

Joanne took Kim’s hand in hers.

“You know, I love you more than I will ever be able to tell you.” Joanne could just make out her lover’s face. Her brown eyes were big wet orbs, tears clinging to her long lashes.

“This ring has been passed down from generation to generation, as a sign of trust and fidelity. I have never felt more safe and loved than when I am with you.”

Tears began to roll slowly down Kim’s cheeks.

“Kim Ann Marcus, would you bring me the greatest joy I could know, and promise to be my wife?”

In answer, she kissed her best friend’s lips, her eyes wide open, wanting to remember this moment as clear as a photograph.

The ring sparkled in the moonlight as Joanne slid it over her lover’s trembling finger.

“Your parents weren’t angry?”

“More disappointed than angry.”

They wrapped their arms around each other and Joanne let one leg fall over the side of the hammock and gave them a push.

“But as my grandmother said, the ring is mine by rights, and my parents have no say in who I give it to.”

The stars danced above them.

“Grandmother has invited us to breakfast tomorrow morning,” Joanne said with a catch in her voice. “She said she can’t wait to meet the woman who’s earned my heart.”

“And I can’t wait to meet the woman who’s helped shape it.”

The hammock swung gently, rocking them to sleep with dreams of tomorrow and hopes for the future.

Another Night at Daddy's

Another Night at Daddy's [3000 words] (FFF, toys, anal)

Copyright © 2005 by Crystal Barela

Ricky spread a handful of grease through her jet black hair and combed it into a practiced ducktail. It made her look tough, and she liked that. Curling her lips around a cigarette, she blew smoke at her reflection. She tucked the tails of her shirt into her faded Levis, leaving the front unbuttoned. The sliver buckle of the studded belt looped through the tabs of her jeans read “Dick,” circled with a slash through it.

“Hurry up, Slut,” was the call from down the hall. Her roommate, Sam, appeared behind her in the crooked mirror. “Fuck,” she drawled, eyeing the show of cleavage in the vee of Ricky’s shirt. “If I knew my old lady wouldn’t kick my ass, I’d ball you right now.”

“As if I’d let you,” Ricky mumbled from behind her cigarette. “Hey!” she protested as Sam came up behind her, laughing, and humped her ass. “Shit, will you grow up!” She pushed Sam off and picked up the cigarette from where it had fallen into the sink.

One last look in the mirror and Ricky headed down the hallway to the living room. She took her black leather jacket from the back of the recliner, zipping it to her throat and turning up the collar. She was looking to get some hot tail tonight, and the sooner she got to Daddy’s, the sooner she’d get her rocks off.

“Come on!” she hollered as she left the house. “Your old lady’s gonna be pissed!” The screen door bounced shut behind her.

At the end of the driveway Ricky swung her leg up over her hog, feeling the familiar thrill of her crotch settling into the leather. It increased as she started the engine and sent the vibrations through her body. She ground herself into the seat for that extra buzz and gunned the engine. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Sam lock the door and run to her own bike. With one last drag of her cigarette, Ricky tossed the butt to the ground and revved the engine.

The earth flew by and her bike ate up the asphalt. Ricky was smiling from ear to ear as the wind rushed past her face.

---

Daddy’s was not the most popular dyke bar in town, but it was Ricky’s favorite. She felt right at home with the dark corners and crappy lighting. The floor was sticky with spilt drinks and unnamed bodily fluids. There was no air conditioning, and danger hung in the air along with the strong scent of Marlboros. Yeah, it was an acquired taste; one that she felt suited her.

Daddy’s was the only place in town with pool tables, so that was an added draw. This was a typically busy Saturday night, and wherever Ricky looked she saw eager chicks waiting to get some action.

“Hey, Maggie,” she called, unzipping her jacket. The layer of smoke at eye level made her squint across the bar.

“What’s your pleasure, sugar?” Maggie shouted over the din. She leaned across the bar so that Ricky could get a good look at her double Ds. They were impressive.

“You still have Pete’s Wicked Ale on tap?” Maggie went to get her order while Ricky leaned back against the bar. She let a little cleavage show as she checked out the possibilities. Without being picky, she did have a penchant for redheads, who, in her experience, usually had tempers. She liked her women feisty, to give her a wild ride. It seemed she couldn’t be happy unless someone was throwing things at her.

“Tabatha was in here looking for you,” Maggie said, setting the beer on the bar. Ricky cringed, wondering what her psycho ex wanted.

“She say why?” Ricky asked. She pulled her billfold from her back pocket and dished out some cash onto the bar.

“To give you hell.” Maggie laughed, pocketed the money, and went off to help another customer. Hell, Ricky thought. Well, that’s what Tabatha is ... hell on wheels. She hoped she didn’t run into her tonight.

Bringing another cigarette to her lips, she let it dangle there, unlit, while her eyes feasted on the hottest ass she’d seen in a while. It, the ass that is, was at the pool table, bending over to make a shot. A very short black leather skirt barely covered it, a skirt so short that Ricky had a wonderful view of a clean-shaven pussy. The woman straightened up, bringing into view a long mane of russet colored hair falling in a sheet down her back, golds and reds glistening under the beer lights. Ricky brought her lighter up and lit her cigarette, slowly exhaling a stream of smoke.

“Hey, Maggie,” she called. Maggie walked over, tucking another tip into her bra. “You know what she’s drinking?” Ricky asked, gesturing toward the redhead at the pool table.

“I don’t know why Ican’t interest you in some fun,” Maggie crooned, leaning close enough for Ricky to taste the mint on her breath. “I played the flute in high school,” she confided. Ricky raised her eyebrows. “I can flutter my tongue, 216 beats per minute.” Ricky laughed and raised her glass in salute.

“What’s she drinking?” Ricky asked again.

With a practiced sigh, Maggie went to make the mystery woman a fuzzy navel. Scanning the bar, Ricky noticed that Sam was already off in the corner with her old lady. They were making out like high-schoolers. She smiled, putting out her cigarette in the ash tray. Sam was lucky. She had found love early.

“Heard you like fuzzy navels,” Ricky said, shrugging off her jacket and hanging it on one of the wooden hooks that lined the wall by the pool tables. The redhead was even more striking close up. Her eyes were a surprising dark brown and framed by thick lashes. Her body was all soft curves, hips full and wide, waist a gentle indention leading to her decidedly perfect breasts. If her skirt should be illegal, then her shirt could be taken in for the same infraction, Ricky thought. She could see every curve through the sheer fabric. The woman’s tits were full and her nipples dark, pleading for attention.

Her dainty pout stretched into a smile at Ricky’s approach. “Do you have one?” the redhead asked. She took the drink, and set it next in line with another half dozen similar offerings.

“Why don’t you find out?” Ricky asked. Her new friend laughed, leaning back against the table and crossing her arms beneath her breasts so that they rose to flirt playfully with Ricky’s eyes.

“You see the woman behind me, racking up the balls?”

Ricky took in the aggressive-looking butch dyke slapping the balls into the triangle. She had a black flattop, thick black framed glasses, and a nose ring. The sleeves on her plaid shirt had been ripped off, revealing rather impressive biceps. Not as tall as the red-head, but thick and muscular. “You need to get permission from her. I’m her bitch.” She giggled, taking the first of her fuzzy navels. More than one person had thought of the drink idea, but none of them were playing at that table.

The question is, does Butch like to pass her Bitch around, or does she want to share in the pleasure? Ricky walked around the table to Butch’s side and leaned in close, letting her thigh touch the other woman. “Whatcha drinking?”

“Whatcha offering?” Butch growled suggestively. Ricky felt heat rise in her body as her eyes met Butch’s. They were open to play. Ricky grabbed the waitress and ordered a Budweiser.

---

A good hour later, Ricky leaned over Bitch, pressing her bush into the redhead’s ass through their clothes. She was helping Bitch with her stroke on the pool table, and she had more than a good buzz going. Her new buddies were very friendly; it was only a matter of time before they went outside to cool off.

“Ouch!” she yelped as Butch walked by, slapping her on the ass. Bitch giggled beneath her, driving her wild. Ricky closed her eyes, fighting off the urge to take her on the pool table. The teasing and innuendos needed to be set into action. She ground herself suggestively against Bitch as they took the shot and asked, “You two want to get serious?”

The redhead’s eyes met Butch’s and she nodded, leaning her pool queue against the wall.

---

“Nice softail, man,” Butch said when they got outside, running her hand along the handlebars. Bitch hopped right on, making motor noises and pretending to rev the engine. Ricky lifted her eyebrows, but said nothing, focusing on the ass bouncing on the leather seat.

“And totally customized,” Ricky bragged. She pulled out what looked like a strap-on from the saddle bag. It resembled your basic belted dildo but the strap was longer than most would need. She bent across the seat, between Bitch and the handlebars, and buckled it tightly around the frame of the bike. The large black rubber prick rose into the air. Strapping it onto the bike was preferable to a woman sometimes. Ricky could ride for miles with the vibrations of the bike ripping through her body, bringing on amazing orgasms. “I call it my pommel,” she shared, straightening and winking at Butch.

“Fuck no!” Bitch immediately pulled up her skirt and positioned herself over the dildo, then lowered herself down onto the cold rubber, warming it slowly with her juicy lips. She gasped and giggled cautiously, taking in its entire impressive length. Butch smiled, her arms crossed over her chest. She was softly whistling, “Back in the Saddle Again.”

“Start the engine!” Bitch pleaded. Ricky mounted behind her and turned on the ignition. Bitch’s giggles became groans. Ricky reached around to massage Bitch’s nipples, pleased to find them like long erasers. She kneaded the full breasts, letting their weight fill her palm. Her other hand slid around Bitch’s waist, fingers coming to play in the folds of the clean-shaven pussy she had admired earlier. It was wet and slick, smelling of hot sex and warm seat leather.

“Butch…Butch,” Bitch chanted, until Butch came up beside her, just in time to kiss her as her orgasm peaked.

Ricky jumped when a car door slammed nearby. A couple walked into the bar, arms around shoulder and waist, paying no attention to them.

Butch lifted Bitch off of the toy and set her on the ground. Her smile was wide with satisfaction. Yep, that is the coolest thing, Ricky thought, getting off of the bike, unstrapping the appendage from the seat, and putting it away.

Butch was leading her woman down the alley on the side of the bar. Her arm was around Bitch’s waist and they were nibbling on each other. Ricky lit a cigarette and followed. The lighting was bad, and the smell was less than thrilling, but she knew the back of the bar opened into a field followed by what seemed like endless mountains. The moon was bright and there was plenty of room to play.

They walked around the corner and there was a large black van, straight out of every horror flick Ricky had ever seen; the windows dark, the bumpers rusted. Butch pulled out a key and unlocked the side door, which opened with a squeal. The interior light came on and brought a shag carpet and a bed into view. Ricky raised her eyebrow and took another drag of her cigarette.

Bitch crawled in and Butch pushed against her ass, making her fall across the bed in a fit of laughter. Ricky chuckled too and put out her cigarette in the gravel.

“Come on,” Butch called. Ricky looked up, met Butch’s heat-filled eyes, and climbed aboard.

“Fuck!” Bitch cried out as Ricky’s hand opened her box.

“Yes!” ordered Butch, twisting a nipple roughly. Ricky was sweating, twisting her hand in Bitch’s love juice. She could not believe how far her hand was up this woman’s snatch. The muscles squeezed her wrist. She slowly opened her fingers, causing Bitch to groan. Ricky twisted her hand and Bitch’s hips rose into the air, seeking. Smiling maliciously, she pulled her hand out with a loud sucking noise.

“No!” Bitch protested, and Ricky didn’t disappoint her. She dove in again and picked up a steady rhythm. Butch had removed her clothes and was now squatting over Bitch’s head. Ricky’s eyes were drawn to the ropes of muscle in Butch’s thighs as she held herself over her lover’s face. Bitch’s eager tongue was like an arrow finding its target. Her eyes glazed over and she began cursing, calling Bitch a nasty whore, a fucking slut, a dirty cunt sucker. She was moaning and bouncing, her small breasts jiggling. Her abs were tightening and quivering, the sight making Ricky even wetter.

Suddenly Butch screamed and her cum came flying out in a stream. Bitch was swallowing, her tongue searching Butch’s honeypot for even more. Butch dropped back on her hands and her juice sprayed straight into Ricky’s face. “Fuck!” Ricky laughed, wiping her face. Her hand was mangled by the vice of Bitch’s trap as she came in turn.

“You want your twat sucked? That fuckhole of yours filled?” Butch asked as she approached Ricky. She took a fistful of greasy locks and pulled her up so that Ricky’s nose was in her pussy. The smell of slut butter wafted from her made Ricky’s mouth water. “Eat me,” Butch commanded, and Ricky didn’t hesitate. Her mouth latched onto Butch’s lips. Her tongue dove between the folds, finding her hole wet and salty. Ricky’s nose bobbed against her clit in an eagerness to please. Butch pulled Ricky’s hair, and yanked her face harder into her lower lips. Ricky brought her hand to her own cunt and began frigging herself.

She jumped as she felt Bitch’s long-nailed fingers join her own, gently pulling the soft hair of her pussy. “Let me take care of that,” Bitch whispered. She licked her ear and bit it playfully as she slid into Ricky’s wet folds with practiced fingers. Ricky could feel Bitch’s nipples pressing into her back, and something hard and wet sliding along the crack of her ass. “Feel that Honey?” Bitch cooed. Ricky couldn’t answer. “That’s my cock. It’s special.” She nudged Ricky’s hole. “Feel how big it is?” Bitch poked her again, teasing her entrance. Ricky shoved back eagerly, wanting that fullness. Bitch laughed and began to push into her cunt. Ricky groaned, finding her pussy protesting. Whatever Bitch was shoving into her was huge. She felt the walls of her cunt expanding, inch by inch, the width of the cock stretching her wide.

Butch pulled Ricky’s face from her snatch and leaned over to kiss her. She licked Ricky’s lips and cheeks, sucking every last drop of cum from her face. Ricky then felt Bitch force her “special” cock inside. It would be painful if it didn’t feel so good. It hit every wall. It filled every bit of space. Ricky took hold of the shag, pushing back against Bitch as she began pumping into her. Groans echoed in the small space.

“Oh, fuck, Daddy,” Bitch said, and Ricky turned her head to see that Butch had strapped on her own bit of fun. It was heavily greased. Bitch froze inside as Butch began fucking her ass hard. They knelt in a row, fucking and cursing.

Ricky’s hand found her clit and she pulled and pushed it the way she liked it, while her pussy took in the biggest rubber cock she had ever known. They moved in unison. The only sounds were their nasty words and the suction of their juices mingling.

Ricky found her spot. The air seemed to vibrate. It felt as though she were on bike and they were speeding up a winding road, faster and faster, until she toppled over a cliff, falling into sensation, needing oxygen. She collapsed against the shag wall, trying to breathe. The air was heavy with the sweet smell of their silky cum and stale unwashed carpet.

Bitch eased out of her. The absence of her colossal dick caused Ricky’s muscles to contract in protest. Bitch giggled and crawled in front of her, squeezing in next to the wall. Her special dildo projected out of her nest like some obscene growth. Ricky was drawn to it. She took it in her hands, twisting it in Bitch’s twat. Her lather bubbled around the circumference. “Come here, honey,” Bitch invited, her voice hoarse. She put her hands around Ricky’s waist and pulled her closer, sliding her massive gap-stopper back where it belonged. Bitch began nibbling her lips as Ricky swayed slowly into her body.

“Ricky!” They all jumped. “Ricky! You fucking slut!” Someone was hitting the side of the van. “Ricky! I know you’re in there!”

“What the fuck?” Butch said as she opened the door, wet cock swinging into Tabatha’s outraged face. Tabatha wiped her cheek in disgust and forced her key into the side of the van. Before she could go more than a foot, she was on the ground, with Butch’s knee in her back.

“Ricky, I loved you!” she sobbed into the ground.

“You gonna join us or leave like a good little girl?” Butch asked, removing the keys from Tabatha’s hand.

“I’m only leaving if Ricky comes with me!” Ricky and Bitch were still joined at their fuck centers and the very thought of leaving this party caused Ricky’s quim to quiver unhappily.

“Sorry, honey,” Ricky said, ignoring her ex and rocking her hips against Bitch, who moaned dramatically for Tabatha’s benefit. Butch took her knee off Tabatha’s back. As she started to clamber upward, her rosebud pout come directly in line with Butch’s rubber hard-on. She looked up at Butch with weepy eyes, her tongue sweeping across her lips invitingly.

“Suck it, brat!” Butch demanded. As Tabatha leaned in, Ricky smiled. It was just another night at Daddy’s.

From the Sea

From the Sea [3461 words] (FF, oral, toys)

Copyright © 2005 by Crystal

I am not afraid of death. Death is more welcome than an existence where she is not. If I cannot touch her body, there is no place for me. If I cannot breathe in the sweet scent of the sunshine from her skin, then there is no point of living. If I cannot hear the sound of her laughter drifting through our house, there is no home. Parisa has returned to the sea.

---

As is my want, I love to wander at night. I would not recommend this to those who are strangers to these parts, but I know every crag and hill by heart. The Orkney Islands are alight with stars, so bright that if I stretched a little more, I could bring one home with me. The moon was full, lighting my path as I started down the rocky incline towards the beach. As I approached the shore, I heard voices and slowed my steps. There, dancing in the surf were eight of the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. They were tall and lithe, with skin the color of alabaster. They laughed amongst each other, splashing and teasing in the cold waters. I knelt down on the sand and my eyes took in their graceful play.

One of these gorgeous creatures stood and stretched her arms towards the heavens. Her hair was a dark sheet of black that sparked with brilliance under the moonlight. Her lips turned up in a generous smile as she brought her hand in front of her. A moonbeam fluttered in her palm, sparkling with light. She turned her back to me, and I felt my pulse race at the sight of her full hips, and dimples just above the curve of her posterior. She made herself comfortable on a crop of boulders that jutted from the sea, lengthening her body under the night sky, and the light of the captured moonbeam accentuated her every curve.

One of the other women swam out to the rocks and climbed up to lay beside her, draping her arms and legs over her body, nuzzling her neck. Then another came and curled around the other. One after another they joined the object of my interest. All lay in a comforting pile, gently touching and breathing together. I was drawn to them.

I stood and removed my sandals and skirt, wanting to be as they were. As I walked towards the shore I took off my shirt and tossing it to the sand; I froze. My shirt lay amongst the skins of seals. I knelt, picking up one of the pelts; it was the softest fur I had ever touched. I rubbed my cheek against it, my eyes not leaving the mass of beauty upon the rocks. They were Selkie. My grandfather lulled me to sleep with their stories. My heart jumped and I clutched the skin to my chest.

“Release the skin!” Her voice carried across the water to my ears, yet it sounded like a whisper spoken in my head. I clutched the skin tighter to my breasts and backed away. They dove from the rocks into the water as one, their heads bobbing to the surface as they reached the beach and rose out of the water in a graceful wave. They quickly gathered their skins from the sand and pulled them over their heads. They slithered into them, twisting their bodies back and fourth, breasts bouncing and hips swaying. The skins molded around their torsos, covering their backs first, and enveloping their limbs and chests until you could see nothing of their former humanness. They leaped into the sea and swam out to where I could barely see them. All accept the Selkie I had admired earlier.

She stood her eyes fierce and lips drawn. I swallowed hard as I watched the beads of water traverse her body. My eyes greedily took in her full breasts, the gentle curve of her belly, and the down at her center. I wanted her.

“Look your fill, mortal,” she ordered, “Then give back what is mine.”

“No.” I knew the curse that plagued all Selkie. If I did not give back her skin, she would have to come with me. She would live docile and do my will. She would please me for as long as I kept her skin from her. So strong was my desire that I didn’t care if it was wrong. All I could think of was her long limbs wrapped around me. Her beautiful face staring at me from across the dinner table. Her laughter would be a song as I worked in my garden.

“Please, return my skin,” she demanded again. I picked up my shirt and tossed it to her. I turned from her and went to where my skirt and sandals were. I knew she would follow. Her hand found my shoulder and she squeezed hard…not in a friendly way. I looked over my shoulder and our eyes held. “Remember this. If you bring me to your home and make me your lover, you will die on our parting. That is the cost.”

I knew what she said was true but her hand on my shoulder sent electricity through my body. The warmth of her skin so close called to my own. A Selkie could not leave unless she had her skin. I would be sure that she could never find it.

---

“Is this what you seek?” she growled, pushing me against the kitchen table as we entered the house. The vase fell to the floor with a crash. Her lips were hot and insistent on mine. She swallowed my voice as our tongues tangled and my hands sought the curves of her body. She was warm and soft like the sun; all heat and energy beneath my palms.

“Or this?!” she insisted, her hand pushing up my skirt and squeezing my thighs. She nailed me to the wood of the table with her hand. It swam in my juices, diving in and out like a dolphin. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe…the air was thick with the scent of my need. She laughed against my thighs, her lips joining her hand. Her tongue swept my cleft then latched onto my clit…sucking and pulling until my ceiling opened and the sky exploded above me. Then darkness.

---

I awoke to the sound of crying. I had passed out on the table. The house was torn to pieces. Everything was pulled from cupboards and tossed to the floor. Furniture was overturned. “I can not find my skin!” she wailed, her breasts heaving with her angry sobbing. I arose groggily as she collapsed on the bed of feathers from the shredded pillows. They hung in the air, drifting about the room in an unnatural snow, and covering her fetal form upon the mattress. I crawled through the bed sheets and curved my body around hers as I had seen the Selkie do on the rocks. I weaved my arms and legs with hers until you could not tell where I began and she ended.

---

That was the last time she cried in front of me. True to what legend had told me she remained in my home, seemingly content. She did all that she thought would please me. She woke before me and put the coffee on to brew. She crawled back into bed and snuggled with me while it percolated. She laughed at my jokes and held my hand when we went on walks. She talked of all my interests and pleased my body in every imaginable way. But I could not please Parisa.

Having a love slave, constant companionship and everything I ever wanted in a woman is not as satisfying as it might seem. It became my heart’s foolish desire to grant her every wish.

---

That Spring, I caught her staring wistfully out the window toward the sea, as she often did. She was sure to hide it as soon as I noticed.

“Let’s take a walk.” I said, putting down my sketchbook. She grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door. She took me on a familiar path; one we had worn into the ground over the past two years. Where there was once grass, there was now dirt and sand. Rocks and shrubbery had been ruthlessly thrown to the sides of the path, leaving a bee line to Parisa’s favorite haven.

“Come on!” she called, tugging my hand like an eager child. She broke free to rejoice amongst the waves. I watched her dance as she did that first night. Arms stretched towards the sky and hips swaying. The white linen of her dress was plastered to her body from the spray. The rouge of her nipples, the shadow of her belly button, and the hair of her sex winked at me through the sheer fabric. She took my hands and drew me into the circle of her arms. We twirled and laughed until we were dizzy and falling against each other.

Our mouths met. We drank the salt of the sea from each other’s lips and our tangled hair caught on our fingers. The rough grain of the sand became our bed as we fell to the earth and gloried in being alive. I rolled her onto her back and pushed my way under her dress. The blanket of linen embraced me, leaving me to shower her flesh with my attentions. I licked and nibbled my way around her body. I suckled her toes and breasts. I lavished her pussy with my respect, letting my tongue become a tool for her pleasure. I relearned every fold, every hair. My nose nudged her clit while my tongue dove into her depths. Her noises were aquatic, like the songs of mermaids. Granules of sand mixed with her juices, lending a welcome grittiness to our love making. She writhed beneath me, tugging at my hair and calling my name. Joy washed over me at her coming. Her body was an altar for my happiness.

---

I was in the garden, trying to get my stubborn vegetables to grow in the rocky soil, when I found a pile of sea shells. Parisa had been gathering them on our many visits to the beach but was afraid that I would disapprove. I began collecting them myself and leaving them around the house in places that I thought she might find them. She had thousands of them. She strung the shells together and hung them from the ceiling; row after row hung over our heads so we lived under a tinkling canopy of pearly white. When the windows were open they rang together like wind chimes.

When we slept at night I listened to her breathing as it mingled with the sound of the shells and I was comforted. She had made this her home.

---

“Tilt your head down a bit,” I suggested. Parisa did so, and she was forced to look up through her lashes. “You are divine.” I murmured, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She smiled and pursed her lips at me. She was the perfect subject. She could lie for hours without moving. Bright colored silks framed her, teasing us with the promise of revelation. She loved my worshipful brush.

I stood back and loaded my palette. “Do you not tire of this?” she asked as I mixed my paints.

“What?”

“Capturing me.” My eyes darted to hers and she held them.

“No. And I never will.” I turned from her and stroked the canvas with my brush.

“I am beautiful am I not? More beautiful than any woman you could find in your world?” I met her eyes again and she continued. “Am I not more intuitive?” I concentrated on shape and form, letting her ramble. “Do I not anticipate your every wish? Your every need?” She shifted so that her hip lifted slightly. She winked at me and I gritted my teeth. I hated it when she could read my thoughts. “You only hate it when you want to keep something from me.” Her voice was cold and I pretended like I didn’t know what she referred to.

---

She laughed as she tightened the belt around her waist. She stood, the dildo waving at me as she walked. “I could learn to like this,” she said, grabbing a fist full of my hair. “Lick it!” she commanded, pushing my face against the rubber. I dutifully ran my tongue along its length, lapping at the tip like a kitten. “More!” she ordered, and forced it between my lips. I gagged as it hit the back of my throat and she laughed again, pumping her hips against my face. I swallowed as much as I could and reached my hands around to cup her ass. I kneaded it, loving the firm roundness. Sometimes I would ask her to bend over with her back to me and play with her pussy. She was so sexy; her breasts framing her pussy as she brought herself pleasure.

Now she wanted me to bend over. “Be still,” she whispered near my ear and I trembled at her voice. She let her fingers trail along my spine, then tease the crack of my ass. She tickled my thighs and laughed as I squirmed under her electrifying touch. “You will do as I say!” she demanded. I jumped as she slapped my ass and moaned as she soothed away the redness with her lips.

Parisa brought herself flush against me and leaned over my back. “You will give me all that I desire.” She murmured adjusting her prick so that it teased my needy cunt. I could hear slight sucking sounds as she nuzzled the entrance. I moaned wanting her to ram me. I wanted her to fuck my brains out.

“As you wish,” she cooed. She drove the 10 inches into my welcoming cunt over and over, punishing my needy hole. I pushed back against her as she pressed her hands into my back. Because I was draped over the couch I could not reach my clit. The force of her thrusting kept me from moving. “Tell me what you want!” she ordered.

“Please touch my clit!” I pleaded. She kept fucking me, not satisfying me or allowing me to do so myself. I begged over and over and she would not stop slamming into my pussy. I gasped her name, and bit my lip, drawing blood. She stopped. The length of the prick filled me and my muscles clenched around it ravenously. This was more torturous than when she was screwing me. At least then I had the friction of the couch. She leaned over my back, letting me feel the hardness of her nipples and the sweat of her exertion. She took a firm grip of my hair.

“What do you want, darling?” she cajoled, kissing my neck. I moaned and tried to move my ass. She slapped it and asked me again, yanking my hair.

“Touch my clit,” I groaned. She laughed softly nibbling her way to my other ear.

“What will you give me?” she asked. She rotated her hips, causing my clit to rub against the sofa. I moaned feeling tears in my eyes.

“Anything!” I croaked, and she eased up.

“Is that a promise?” She asked softly.

“Yes! Anything…anything!” She lifted her weight from me and slipped her arm around my waist. She pumped the dildo into me slowly as her hand found my clit. In a couple of deft movements I came, my juices running in rivulets down our legs. Every part of me felt expanded, hairs on end, skin sensitive to the air. “My heart stopped.” I whispered. I was crying uncontrollably. It was too much.

“No. That was my heart,” she corrected, licking the tears from my cheeks.

---

In the bedroom we snuggled close and I told her all that I loved about her. Her generosity of spirit, her passion, her extravagant thought, her perfect body. And as sleep claimed me, I heard her say that she loved me too.

---

I awoke to find her watching me. She was wringing her hands and smiling tremulously.

“Please give me my skin.” She said, excitedly.

“What?” I asked wiping the sleep from my eyes.

“You said that I could have my skin.”

“I said no such thing!”

“Last night, you said that I could have anything.” Panic catapulted my heart as I got up from bed and went to the bathroom closing the door. “You said I could have anything!” she insisted, banging on the door. I splashed water on my face and stared at my haunted features. My eyes latched onto the overly quick flaring of my nostrils as I tried to breathe. It will be OK.

I opened the door nearly tripping over her. “No.” I said firmly.

“But…”

“NO, Parisa!” She shrunk back and seemed to wilt before me. She collapsed on the floor like a rag doll. No tears, just great dry sobs that shook her body. I gathered her up. She shook her head in protest and lay in my arms like a lifeless doll.

“Please understand, Parisa,” I whispered, rubbing circles into her back. “I can’t live without you.”

“I warned you,” she hissed, meeting my eyes with her listless ones.

---

After that day, she never spoke to me again. She was a shadow of the woman I had grown to love over the past four years. The shells I collected grew into an uncontrollable heap. When I brought her to the beach, she sat with her chin resting on her knees staring out over the water and watching the seals frolic amongst the waves. When we made love she laid there and thought of the sea. My broken promise had stolen her will.

There was nothing I could do, but give the skin back to her. Her happiness had become my own, and the woman that lived with me was no longer the woman I had grown to love.

I went to the garden, where all of my plants refused to flourish. I dug with my hands, not wanting to harm her fur. That’s how she found me, covered in earth, sodden with the damp air, tears falling down my face. The skin was clutched to my chest, much like the first day I saw her.

Parisa took my hand, and helped me rise. She led me into the house and through the living room, a trail of dirt and mud in our wake. She turned on the bath water and filled the tub. I stood there like a helpless child as she undressed me. She helped me into the bath and climbed in behind me, enveloping me in her body. Our smooth wet skin caressed each other. I lay my head on her shoulder while she soothed me with her touch. Her hands caressed my small breasts. Her palms journeyed in long sweet strokes bringing my nipples to hard points. She massaged my stomach in great sweeping lines. She rubbed my thighs and cunt lips, bringing a gentle hum to my body. Nonsense words filled my ears calming me, until our hearts were a steady thump. The porcelain tub became a cocoon filled with our love as we gently rocked against each other. Water splashed on the floor to our soft movements. Her fingers were an extension of her heart, moving to the time of its rhythm, bringing me home in her arms.

---

She put me to bed. She sat beside me like a mother would a sick child and stroked my head until I fell asleep.

How could someone who apparently loved me so, leave? And leave knowing that her departure would bring me death? But that’s what she did. While I slept with hope that she would be there when I woke, she walked out the door. I awoke to silence. Emptiness. Naked, I ran from our home, to the beach where I had first seen her and I screamed her name. I called out over and over and saw nothing but the turbulent waters. In desperation I swam to the rocks where she had lain all those years ago.

It’s where I lay now. My heart pains me so that I can hardly move. The sun has burnt my skin to a crisp redness. I will be food for the birds soon, and what they don’t eat I am sure the fish will as I am washed away into the sea. Every time I lick my cracked and bleeding lips, I taste the salt of the sea and think of Parisa.

Magdalin

Magdalin [6166 words] (FF, caution)

Copyright © 2005 by Crystal Barela

The bridge crossing the Spokane River was nearly empty at this hour. I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck and scanned the sidewalk in the park, before returning my attention to the rapids below. The cool spray was jarring. This frigid wetness was reality, not the dream that had brought me here.

I know who killed your sister.

A dream of Magdalin; a figment of my pre-pubescent imagination. The imaginary friend and lover of a teenage girl. I thought my psych classes were taking me past this.

I shivered, checking the face of my watch. Apparently, not. My dream was late.

“Just on time, by my calculations,” chuckled a familiar voice in the dark.

Startled, I cried out, my hand flying to my chest. I didn’t dare turn around. The voice was the same. French accent carried deep in her chest, as if she had smoked two packs a day for three hundred years.

She laughed again. “Very nearly, ma cherie.”

My heart was racing and my legs weakened. I placed a hand on the iron railing for support and turned to face the voice.

“I apologize.” She was tall and slim, pale as milk under the soft moonlight. Her black hair was parted in the center and fell to her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Magdalin.

“You know of my sister’s murder?” She was no more that twenty-five, only a child at the time of my sister’s death. She was also a living dream. I laughed. Those psych classes I’m taking hadn’t taught me shit.

Magdalin took hold of my arm and I tried to shake her hand loose. Her grip was firm.

“I know of many things, sweet Jody.” I paled at the use of the endearment. Only my Magdalin called me sweet.

She stepped closer, nearly flush to my body. “You are in danger, ma cherie.”

She pulled me against her, squeezing me hard.

“Do you recall, Waldorf?” She breathed into my hair.

Waldorf; tall, fair and angelic. He had been Carmen’s boyfriend.

“He died the same night as Carmen.” Magdalin nodded, releasing me. I pulled my jacket closely around my shoulders as she placed her white hands on the wrought iron railing. She was clothed in black; certainly not dressed for an early Spring in Washington. I stood beside her, set my gloved hands next to hers and watched the swiftly moving water beneath the bridge.

“Please, you are cold.” She said gesturing towards a twenty-four hour coffee house on the corner. “We will take coffee as we talk?”

Without waiting for my response, she lead me down the block, her hand on my elbow. The doors of the Rocket Bakery were soon in front of us. We found seats at a table in the corner and she ordered coffee for the two of us.

“I knew your sister and Waldorf well.”

“How could…” Her fingers were upon my lips before I could blink, silencing me.

“Please listen.”

The waitress brought our coffee and I held my tongue. I wanted answers. I’ve wanted them for so long.

“I understand your frustration. Twelve years have passed.” I had been eleven when my sister had been murdered. Decapitated. They’d never found her head. Or Waldorf’s.

“No, Waldorf lives.” I shook my head. That was the second time she seemed to respond to an unspoken thought. I wasn’t sure what to make of any of this. Her moss green eyes were sincere.

“I share with you, secrets that no mortal knows.”

Mortal?

“You will find them difficult to believe.” She took my hand in hers, pressing it between her own.

I will tell you what happened.

Magdalin’s eyes wouldn’t let mine go. Her lips weren’t moving, but I could hear her voice clearly in my mind.

Jody, your sister...Her voice stilled and her eyes darted away as if trying to look behind her.

The air in the coffee shop grew cold and I looked around nervously, the hairs rising on the back of my neck.

A man sat at the table behind Magdalin. He was slight of build, dressed all in black. Sunglasses perched upon a long nose and his hair buzzed to a shadow along his scalp. The shop had been empty when we entered, and I hadn’t seen anyone pass threw the door since we’d been here.

Our eyes met over his dark frames. He pursed his lips in a mockery of a kiss and waggled his fingers at me, then smiled, showing a flash of fang.

I shook my head. I was losing it.

“Is there a man with a buzz cut and sickening smile behind me?” I nodded. “I want you to get up from the table and walk to your car.”

“What’s happening?” My heart began to race.

“Listen!” She leaned over our table and put her hand behind my neck, bringing my face close to hers. “Get to your house and lock all the doors and windows.”

I shivered. The temperature had dropped to the point that I could see our breath mingling.

A vampire cannot enter your home unless you invite them in.

I shook my head, clutching my purse to my stomach.

There was a shifting of chairs as I stood. My eyes darted around nervously. A couple sat kitty corner to us, all in black, shades on. The man stood, resting his palms on his table, his eyes on me.

I took my keys from my purse and turned toward the entrance. There was another man dressed in black near the door. He was large, muscles flexing beneath his black t-shirt. Pale, his lips red, sunglasses hiding his eyes.

“Magdalin,” I whispered, my hand coming to rest on her shoulder for support.

Run! I will protect you!

I walked as calmly as I could toward the door. None of the patrons seemed to be aware of what was happening, and neither did I. What I did know was that it wasn’t right. What if more of these people in black were outside?

I stepped out into the night air, the glass door swinging shut behind me. The tinkle of bells on the handle followed me out.

---

My car was parked two blocks from the coffee shop. After scanning the street for anyone suspicious I ran as fast as I could. With my arm extended, I pressed the unlock button on my keychain over and over. I felt sure that at any moment I would feel the weight of the muscled man in black falling upon my back. I cried out in triumph, and not a little relief, as the familiar tones of my vehicle unlocking beeped ahead of me, headlights flashing.

I yanked open the door, locking it as soon as I was inside. I was safe. I leaned back against the leather seat, closing my eyes, slowly regaining my composure, as I caught my breath. This was crazy! I laughed. I let that woman get to me. There are no such things as vampires. I stuck my key in the ignition and turned the steering wheel.

The heat was sucked from the air.

Filled with panic, I hit the gas. Something heavy fell on the roof. I cried out, looking up at the ceiling and back at the road. The metal buckled under the weight of whatever was up there.

I put the pedal to the floor, swerving on the road. A driver in oncoming traffic honked his horn. Whatever hit my roof was still there, and it was moving, denting sounds echoing in the car’s interior. I picked up speed as I rounded the corner onto my street, going sixty on the quiet streets of the residential neighborhood.

I slammed on the brakes in front of my home. The tires squealed and seatbelt cut into my shoulder. Something flew from the roof, landing in the street half a block away. A large black shape lay in the road, unmoving.

I unbuckled my belt and left the car cautiously, keys at the ready.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the form in the road. It looked like the man from the coffee shop. What if I had killed him? I hurried up the sidewalk and backed up the stairs onto my porch not blinking.

He moved.

I started and fell against the screen door.

He got to his knees, shaking his head, long dark hair brushing the street.

Oh shit! I opened the screen door and jabbed my key at the lock, my hands trembling.

I looked over my shoulder as the key slipped home.

He was at the foot of the stairs! Blood was oozing from his temple. T-shirt torn.

A flash of black flew into his chest.

I turned the key and stepped into the house, locking the door behind me.

---

I ran to the picture window. It was Magdalin and she was not nearly as big as my attacker. Somehow she had managed to throw him onto the street. I had never seen anyone move so quickly. Her feet never seemed to touch the ground as she leaped and flew around the man. She had moves like Jackie Chan, running up and down his chest, throwing trash cans. She swung the neighbor’s “House for Sale” sign like a bat, hitting the man in the head. He flew through the air, landing across the street in the neighbor’s rhododendrons.

What should I do? Call the police? Or maybe a priest?

Keep calm. I ran to the back of the house, locking the backdoor and then made my way through the kitchen and dining room, securing windows. I took the stairs two at a time and hit the second floor, checking windows and making sure the latch on the attic was good and tight.

I backed against the wall in the hall and stared down the stairs at the front door. The door was shaking on its hinges.

I wasn’t going down there. Not for anyone.

Jody!

Magdalin’s voice was squeezing my brain. I closed my eyes tight, and brought my hands to my head.

Open the door!

Her voice was a whisper, but it echoed in my skull. I could feel it under my skin.

Don’t be afraid!

I crawled down the stairs to the rattling door, unable to stand and look through the peep hole. My head beat like a drum..

Turn the knob!

I turned the knob.

“Invite me in!” Magadalin hissed. Her back was too the door, dark hair hung down her back in a sheet. Not a hair out of place. I shivered. Her shirt had been torn and I could see her bra and muscled stomach, red blood flashing in the moonlight. “Now!” My head was ringing with her voice and I found myself unable to say no.

“Please come in.”

---

Magdalin backed into the foyer, slamming the door shut behind her and turning the deadbolt. I collapsed on the bench in front of the upright piano, my breathing scattered, but my head blessedly silent.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded, still catching my breath. I stumbled along the hall towards the bathroom wondering if I was going to throw up. I dropped to the floor in front of the toilet and wrapped my arms around the porcelain. The smooth surface was cool relief against my aching head. Who were these people in black and why did they want to hurt me?

“You secured the windows?” Magdalin stood in the doorway, arms on the jams bringing the gash on her side into view. I nodded and pulled upon the cupboard door under the sink, looking for bandages and first aid cream.

“The nausea will pass in a moment, ma cherie. Sorry, I was so insistent.”

“Sit,” I gestured to the toilet, and she maneuvered around me in the small space, and sat on the seat.

“Will they be back?” I whispered, on my knees in front of her.

“I’m afraid so,” she leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead.

I sighed and reached for the first aid cream.

“I told you I was fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” I corrected. She laughed.

“Sweet, Jody,” Magdalin’s hand went to my hair, pushing a soft blonde wisp behind my ear. “You are too.” She brought a finger to my lips, pulling it away with droplets of blood on its tip. Her eyes met mine.

Magdalin sucked her finger into her mouth, swallowing its entire length. I watched, transfixed as her tongue and lips caressed the red liquid from her finger. I had this absurd urge to join her tongue with my own.

I leaned forward between her legs, my hands undoing the top button of her shirt, then the next. She was real and sitting in my bathroom. My heart was racing. I undid another, then the next, my fingers shaking by the time I reached the last button. I slid it from her shoulders, my pulse racing, my blood moving swifter through my veins.

I looked down at the wound, a gash from below her armpit to her waist. It didn’t look deep. In fact, the blood I had noticed earlier had all but vanished.

“You should remove my bra, Jody.”

I brought my arms around her torso, my hands taking hold of the elastic behind her. The hooks wouldn’t come free and I struggled. I laughed under my breath as they came loose. She really didn’t need a bra. Her breasts were small, her nipples nearly black in contrast with her milky skin. The nubbins were tight and puckered.

I coughed nervously and reached for a wash cloth. “Who did this?” I said dabbing against the wound. The blood had stopped and there was little to clean.

“Our friend at the coffee shop,” she replied, moving against my hand as if she liked the sting.

“He’s not my friend!” My voice caught, and I began to shake. This was all too much. My childhood dream friend was in my living room. No one had ever wanted to harm me in my life. And now a gang of Goth obsessed punks had taken a dislike to me? It was absurd! I wiped my tears away impatiently.

“Ma cherie,” she pulled me against her, my face in her breasts. She made soothing noises into my hair and I found myself rubbing my wet cheeks on her creamy smooth skin, nuzzling her. She smelt of something familiar. Earth?

“You are tired, Jody,” she stood, pulling me to my feet beside her. “Come, I will put you to bed.”

---

Magdalin leaned over me, tucking the sheets around my waist before lying down next to me. She settled me into the crook of her arm.

“We will sleep, yes?” I nodded, tired beyond sleep, staring up at the ceiling. “Not talk of any of this until tomorrow?”

She was real. Her arm was under my neck and her long pale fingers on my breast. They played with my nipple. The skin was becoming flushed as all of the blood in my body seemed to rush to that point. I didn’t move. Fear turned to desire in my veins. My hand covered hers and she looked down at me.

“Are you not tired, sweet Jody?” I nodded. Her lips neared mine, soft as butterfly wings they skimmed. Tasting slowly, nipping gently, before seeking entrance into my mouth. We explored, tongues tracing, teeth clashing. The coppery flavor of blood mingled with our saliva.

Magdalin moaned low in her throat.

Her hand skimmed beneath the sheet. Her fingers slid over my stomach and easily through my clean shaven pussy.

“So wet, for me sweet Jody?” She rubbed my mound. One finger slipped into me, then the next. I had never felt so hot.

Everywhere she touched the blood seemed to follow, as if she were a magnet and I were made of metal beads, following her hand’s movements.

Magdalin began a steady rhythm, her mouth latching onto my breast like a suckling child. I was begging her, my hands tangled in her thick dark hair as she fucked me, her fingers a blur, her thumb circling and circling.

My heart roared in my ears and there was a sudden sharp pain in my chest. I looked down, blood was streaming in rivulets from around her lips were she sucked, black against my skin.

My blood was pumping into her!

I began to struggle. Her eyes caught mine.

Shhhhhhh.

She continued to work her hand in my hungry cunt, sucking and pushing until my body convulsed around her fingers and my cries echoed off the ceiling.

---

I woke suddenly and sat up in bed. I was alone. My heart faltered as I took in the bloody mess that was my sheets.

Oh Christ! I would never get the stains out.

The sheets were caked with dark brown stains. It looked like someone had been murdered. Blood was dried on my breasts and down my stomach, caught in my belly button. I brought my hands up to my left aureole and examined the holes there. There were two deep puncture marks.

I laughed. This could not be happening! I looked around the room and aside from the bloody puddle I was sleeping in; there was no sign of Magdalin.

She was here to help me! I ripped the sheets from the bed and threw them in the laundry basket. I was pissed. I wasn’t a fucking buffet!

I stepped into the shower and turned on the spray. The water ran down the drain, pink with my blood.

After the blood was washed off I could see the bruising surrounding the holes. I stepped from the shower frowning. My breast was killing me. What did one do when bit by a vampire? I took the antiseptic cream and rubbed the cool ointment on the angry red holes. Maybe garlic would work better?

I thought you turned into a vampire if you were bitten? But I had woken in sunlight and I was still here, not a pile of ashes. Maybe they had to bite your neck and not your breast for that to happen?

Was Magdalin lying in a coffin somewhere? The thought gave me the chills. I pulled on my robe and took the sheets with me downstairs. I stopped in the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. Maybe that would give me the ability to think. A little caffeine in the system would feed the brain.

I pulled open the basement door and took careful steps down the old wooden stairs. I flipped the switch that lit up the corner by the washer and dryer.

I had too many questions. I set the basket on the dryer and turned on the knob for the washer. Added detergent and shoved the sheets in the well.

What kind of mess was I in? All I had wanted was answers and what did I get? Attacked and molested!

“Molested, sweet Jody?”

“SHIT!” My heart nearly flew from my chest. I turned to face Magdalin. She was lying on the old ratty sofa, which had been a part of my college furniture before I had inherited this house from my grandmother two years ago.

Magdalin’s hands were behind her head, a smile on her lips. I was relieved to see there were no coffins about. It was then that I realized there were no windows in the basement.

“I thought you had gone,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

“And leave you with so many unanswered questions?” She sat up, her hand rubbing the back of her neck. She looked tired.

“Of mind, Jodi, of mind.” She patted the sofa next to her and I hesitated.

I had watched that movie. What was it? I couldn’t remember, but I did remember that the guy had to be bitten three times before he became a vampire. Maybe that was how it worked. But then again, in the Brad Pitt movie it didn’t work that way. Fuck!

“Why don’t you ask?” she said raising a brow and I laughed to myself. I forgot! How silly! She can read my mind.

“Am I a vampire?”

“Are you hungry, Jodi?” I shook my head. “Not for food, ma cherie, but for blood?” Her eyes darkened. “You would know if you were a vampire. You would ache with a thousand hungers, your brain expanding in your head, pressing against your skull, urging you to feed.” Her tongue licked her lips.

“If you were a vampire you would still be asleep, hibernating until it was dark. You would wake with only one thought on your mind. Feeding.” She patted the sofa again and I reluctantly went over. I saw what she had done to that guy last night. Why did I think I had a chance to do anything other than what she said?

We faced each other on the couch and she took my fingers in hers, her eyes searching.

“With me, there is always choice, ma cherie.” Her voice was soft, seductive. “I will never touch you against your will.” I found myself hypnotized by her gentle timbre. I was leaning toward her, breathing in earth and trees. I shook my head desperately and let go of her hands.

The string snapped. Yeah right, I thought, cursing. A choice.

She chuckled, leaning back against the arm of the sofa.

“I’m getting my coffee, and then we’ll discuss this!”

“As you wish.”

I stomped up the stairs, squinted as I went into the bright sunlight of the kitchen.

---

“Carmen had met Waldorf at a bar downtown called The Crypt.”

I snorted into my coffee.

“Amusing, yes? Well, it is known for its darker pleasures. There are many who frequent this establishment who play at being blood suckers.” I leaned back against the opposite arm of the sofa and she pulled my feet into her lap.

“This century it has become a fad to be one of the undead,” she confided.

“My sister wouldn’t…”

“You are such a child, Jody!”

Child! I tried to pull my feet from her lap.

“Listen! You were no more than eight when Carmen met Waldorf. What does an eight your old girl know of such things? You think your sister would share her love of blood with her little sister!”

I felt tears welling, but I willed them back, trying to calm myself. Her hands were soothing. She rubbed my feet in slow circles, pressing her thumbs into my arches

“She met Waldorf and it was love at first sight,” Magdalin smiled, her eyes turning up at the corners. “There is such a thing, yes?” Her fingers circled my ankles as she spoke, massaging their way up my calves. “He admitted he was a real creature of the night. That he needed blood to live and she volunteered to be a donor.”

“Donor?”

“One that allows themselves to produce blood for their Chosen, rather than become a vampire themselves,” she whispered. She was facing me now, my robe had fallen upon, exposing my thighs, and her hands slid over the muscles. Heat climbed higher, my thighs spreading.

“Why would Carmen do that?” I mumbled. My thighs were hot, my blood coursing beneath Magdalin’s fingers.

“For love, Ma cherie,” she assured. Her lips followed were her hands had been. I couldn’t focus on the questions swimming in my head. It was all about the blood in my veins.

She nipped her way inside my thighs, tiny love bites leaving a trail of blood for her tongue to lap up. I moaned beneath her, loving the hot heat of her over me. She kissed and soothed her way to my sex. It was wet and swollen, my clit throbbing with the weight of my blood.

My clit rose toward Magdalin like an erect little cock, heavy with need.

She blew against me and I cried out, begging her to touch me.

“Are you sure, sweet Jodi?”

Magdalin blew again and my hands took hold of her hair, pressing her towards my pussy.

“As you wish.”

Her tongue licked up my wet heat, lapping at my slit like she was starved for me.

I’ve waited twelve years.

I moaned, and she wrapped her lips around my clit, her tongue circling the excited bit of flesh.

So rich. So delicious.

A cold finger climbed into my hole, then another; pumping in time with her sucking.

Come, Ma cherie! Come!

I grabbed my breasts. Gasping at the pain, legs tensing as my body lengthened.

I screamed as her teeth sunk into the skin around my clit, my blood rushing from my body and into her mouth. I could feel the heavy wetness flowing from me, my entire being emptying down her throat. Her eyes were wild, like an animal, gorging herself on my fast pumping life force. I arched against her and pushed her face into my pussy, unable to stop the need.

The blood was seeping past her lips and down my thighs. The hot liquid squirted onto my belly and breasts as it rushed from me.

Magdalin’s face and hands were painted red. Her green eyes glowing.

My limbs felt heavy. I was dying. This was the end. I wanted to tell her to stop, but I couldn’t summon the strength.

---

“As I was saying,” I blinked, the bright light of the upstairs bathroom.

“What?”

“Your sister and Waldorf were madly in love and Craven Beauchamp was jealous.”

“Craven?”

“Beauchamp. Not just of their relationship, but of Waldorf’s power. As leader of our coven he had great strength.”

I couldn’t focus, my limbs were weighted and I watched them float on the water, seeming separate from my body. I was in my claw foot tub.

“What happened?”

“Well, Craven decided to have your sister for his own.”

“Downstairs.”

“She nearly died.”

“Magdalin!”

“You nearly died, Jody.” She knelt next to the claw foot tub and pulled my wet body against hers, her lips against my forehead. “I am so sorry. I did not mean to lose control like that.”

I looked down my body, and saw the ragged puncture marks above my sex. I swallowed hard.

“You make me feel like a fledgling vampire,” Magdalin sighed. She dropped down onto the bathmat and rested her chin on the lip of the tub. “So hungry and alive.” Her hand lifted towards my face and I flinched. I couldn’t help it.

“We must learn of each other so this does not happen.” She met my eyes. “You overwhelm me…your beauty, your spirit, your taste…it will not happen again.”

“Damn straight!” I tried to stand, but I was still weak. The hot water sloshed around me, wetting the floor.

“Jodi, please!” she stilled my movements. “We have no time for this! Beauchamp and his coven will return this night!”

“So! I am not going to invite them in…what do I have to fear?”

“You will stay in your house always? Afraid to enter the night? I am only one woman. I may be strong, but they are many.” Please listen, ma cherie!

“The man at the coffee shop was Craven Beauchamp and he wants you dead.”

“Why?”

“Because you are Carmen’s sister and as such Waldorf cares for you.”

“I haven’t seen Waldorf in twelve years!”

“But he’s seen you, Ma cherie. He’s had someone…me, watching over you all this time.” It was true.

“But, why….”

“Warldorf was hoping you would grow to be much like your sister.”

“That’s sick!”

“Yes, it is, but his obsession is as great as Craven’s.” She stood and offered me her hand. “You may have the look of Carmen…the hair, the figure, the smile…but you are not like her. You could not hear Waldorf’s call.” I stepped from the tub, and Magdalin wrapped a towel around me.

“What do you mean?”

“There is no connection with him. He would enter your mind and speak with you but you could not hear it.” She led me into the bedroom. The bed was made with fresh linens.

“Please sleep, we have a few hours and I will prepare.”

I lay down between the cool sheets, trying to absorb the situation. This was all too much. Feuding vampires fighting over me like I was property.

“Magdalin!” She turned from the doorway, hand on the knob. “I can hear you!”

I know. You always have.

---

I found Magdalin at the dining table. There were a dozen guns laid out on the wooden surface. I picked one up. It was cold and heavier than I would have thought. “I didn’t think you could kill a vampire with bullets?”

She opened the gun and spun the barrel, and took hold of my hand, before emptying the bullets into my palm. They were golden in color and light.

“Oak,” she said. “If you hit the heart, you’ll kill the vampire instantly.”

“I doubt I could hit a wall directly in front of me!”

“You hit a vampire anywhere and it will be like hitting a mortal with a normal bullet.” I tucked a gun into the waistband of my jeans.

I picked up a bottle, filled with clear liquid and raised a brow.

“Holy water.”

“But how can you….”

“Touch this? You have seen ‘CSI’? Yes?” It was then that I noticed the latex gloves on her hands. I laughed. “As long as it does not get on my skin I am fine.” There were a good four dozen of the bottles on the table. “Holy Bombs. You must throw them hard to break the bottle.”

I picked up a large pendant in the shape of a cross. I traced the gold design, heavy with stones.

“Put it on,” I slipped the pendant over my head. The weight was heavy and foreign between my breasts. Turn it over.

‘Mon Amour, Ma Coeur.’ My love, my strength.

Our eyes met and my heart fluttered.

The doorbell sounded.

The man I thought was dead was standing on my doorstep, not looking a second older than the last time I had seen him. Waldorf was a tall man, his hair as mine; a white blonde that many thought came from a bottle. I didn’t know about him, but mine was actually a product of my mother’s genes. He was slender and willowy and could easily have been mistaken for my brother.

“Jody, may we come in?” There were a dozen others with him looking like they had just left a ‘Matrix’ convention. All of this leather and vinyl was a bit much. Couldn’t they dress like normal people? Wouldn’t that make them less conspicuous?

“Of course,” Magdalin said pushing the screen door open. Waldorf stood still, waiting for the invite. If I allowed him in my home I was agreeing to have this war with the man who killed Carmen. I was agreeing that I would put these vampires, Magdalin and myself in danger. I didn’t want this.

It’s the only way, ma cherie.

I met Magdalin’s eyes and she took my hand in hers. I squeezed her fingers tightly.

“Come in, Waldorf.” I said and he crossed the doorway, immediately pulling me into his arms. He embrace was bruising and I pulled away nervously, stepping closer to Magdalin.

“You look so like your sister.” There was wonder in his voice. “Does she not Magdalin?” There eyes met and she nodded.

He gestured for a couple of the others to join them.

“This is Larz and Josephine. They will help from the inside. They are my most skilled warriors. Present company excluded, of course,” he gave Magdalin a bow. “The others will set up a perimeter around your house.”

Perimeter? I felt completely out of my element. I excused myself and went upstairs. I needed a few minutes away from the chaos my life had become. In the bathroom I leaned against the kitchen sink. Look at me? My skin was translucent and the bags under my eyes could hold my entire wardrobe.

I reached into a drawer, took out an elastic band, and pulled my hair into a ponytail on the back of my head. If things got crazy, then it would be better if I could see my attackers. Sneakers, and I would be ready to kick some vampire ass. I turned from my reflection and gasped.

Josephine was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her breasts. Vampires didn’t have reflections. That was creepy.

“Did I startle you?”

“Yes,” I brushed past her and went into the bedroom. I dug in the closet for my sneakers. Finding them, I sat on the bed. “Can I help you with something?” She was taller than I, a sword hanging from a black leather belt around her waist. She looked a bit like a pirate.

“Can you tell me why they are obsessed with you?”

“Craven? Haven’t the foggiest.”

“No.”

“Waldorf?” I tied a lace. “Probably has to do with my sister. Some weird Freudian thing.”

“I am speaking of Magdalin.” She said, walking into the room. The air grew cold and my eyes shot to the window.

“Do you feel that?” I ran to the window, peering out in the darkness. Josephine came up behind me. The glass began to crystallize in front of us, working from the frame and spreading over the pane until we could see nothing.

“Feel what?” She breathed against my neck and I turned. Her fangs had grown becoming visible and my heart began to race nervously.

“The air is so cold.” I said, trying to push past her. But she wouldn’t move and I knew I was in trouble. I took hold of the cross around my neck and pressed it against her chest. Nothing happened. Fuck!

Josephine laughed, her chuckles crawling over my skin.

I began to chant Magdalin’s name in my mind, willing her to hear me…willing her to be here. The bedroom door flew shut with a loud crash.

Josephine picked up the cross in her gloved hand and pressed against the tip against her cheek for a moment. The stench of sizzling flesh filled the room, raising bile in my throat.

“You must touch my skin dear girl.” She ripped the chain from my neck and threw it against the wall.

What was the fucking point of giving me the damn thing and not telling me how to use it?

Something flew against the door, causing it to shake on its hinges.

“Jody!” It was Waldorf.

I’m coming, ma cherie! And Magdalin.

Waldorf hit the wood again and I was impressed with the old house’s tenacity. I rammed my shoulder into Josephine’s chest, but she didn’t budge.

Her arm whipped around my chest and pulled me back against her body, the other went around my waist, lifting me from the floor. I couldn’t move my arms from my sides. I kicked my feet, trying to knock her off balance, but her boots were planted in the hardwood.

The door flew open, smashing against the wall, and hanging from the bottom hinge. Madgalin, Waldorf and Larz, were framed in the doorway, the light in the hallway behind them.

“Let her go at once!” Waldorf commanded, but Josephine’s hold tightened, making breathing difficult.

Stay calm. I was trying, but this situation didn’t lend for a calm state of mind. They inched into the room. I was trying to watch Josephine, my eyes trying to see behind me.

I felt her pull the gun from my jeans. She swung her arm in front of me and fired. Larz fell to the floor. She was going to kill all of us.

It’s okay, Ma cherie. I will save you.

“Her blood smells sweet, Magdalin,” Josephine sniffed my neck.

“Let her go, Jo.”

“I gave you ninety years!”

“Let us talk. Please!”

Josephine’s mouth latched onto my neck, and the air was sucked from my body.

NO!!

This was no gentle nip, no delicate puncture, and certainly no seductive kiss.

It felt like a rabid dog had attached itself to my throat and was ripping my head from my body. Pain replaced the blood in my veins as my life force sprayed the walls.

Jody, hold on!

I fell to the floor, unable to move. Blood continued to pump out of me, discoloring the wooden floorboards and the carpet my grandmother had given me.

Josephine was thrown into the wall above the bed. The plaster crumbled around her like a scene in a comic strip and fell onto the mattress.

Gentle hands held me, pulled me into their embrace. Ma cherie! I tried to focus on Magdalin’s face, the green of her eyes, but she was a blurry shadow.

Forgive me, ma cherie.

And then there was her kiss, as soft as moonlight on my neck. Her teeth slid into my skin like butter, my blood rushing from my body and into her heart.

I will take care of you, sweet Jody.

Beneath the Kilt

The highest mountain pass in Great Britain rose before me. I stepped on the gas with slight trepidation, and renewed excitement. The higher I climbed the more beautiful it became; lochs, mountains and steep valleys stretched in every direction.

Someone once told me that the Scots had a knack of seeing around corners. Which was a good thing; the locals took the hair-pin turns like we were on a highway.

It felt as though the narrow road were going to give way beneath the car in a couple of spots, making my arrival at the top of the mountain end with a sigh of relief.

I parked the car and got out to take in the vista painted before me. The ocean was in the distance, and mountains on the other side of that. The islands of Raasay & Skye, the Ben Nevis and the Cairngorms covered the horizon. Mist hovered over the water, shimmering in the late afternoon sunlight. I felt as though I had stepped back in time.

My stomach gave a growl and I was reminded of the purpose of this trip.

The Applecross Inn and its menu.

The town of Applecross was nestled at the northern side of the mountain’s base, in an inlet on the rocky shores of the sea. The Inn itself looked like many of the pubs I had visited the past couple of days; wood décor, long inviting bar, cozy fireplace, menu written with flourish on a chalkboard covered wall.

The difference here was the out-door seating.

Picnic tables had been set up on the beach, so guests could eat and enjoy the breath taking scenery.

I took a seat at one of the tables and congratulated myself on my brilliant vacation choice. A family sat at the table beside me, laughing and chatting in thick accents. On the beach, a dog ran loose, chasing waves. The inn, a couple of houses, and the surrounding mountains were all that made up the little town.

The waitress returned with my pint and the smoked salmon plate. I was in for a treat. The slices of salmon were rolled into the shape of roses. The bread was fresh baked, its aroma teasing my nostrils. What followed was the best venison sausage I have ever eaten. Flavors danced along my tongue, making my taste buds jump. I smiled, the sun lighting my face, the sky a welcome canopy of blue.

I was full, but I ordered dessert. My tongue craved more stimulation. The Raspberry Cranachan was unbelievable. I had never eaten food that melted in my mouth…cream, oats, berries…it was bliss.

I walked into the pub reluctant to pay the bill. But getting back over this mountain in the dark must be near suicidal. I was met by the fresh faced girl who had been my waitress. “How was your meal?” she asked in her delightful accent.

“Unreal,” I said my eyes closing in remembered pleasure. “Best food I’ve ever eaten.”

She laughed at my enthusiasm, handing me my receipt.

“Can you please pass the word along to the chef?” I asked.

“Your pleasure is my own,” said a voice rich with a Scottish brogue from behind me. I turned to find a tall man reminiscent of ‘Braveheart’ filling his chef whites with his broad shoulders. His lips were framed by a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. His reddish brown hair was long and wavy, tied back with a length of leather cord. His smile was slightly menacing, but what made my stomach drop was the kilt skimming his bare knees.

“Sean Road.” He offered his hand to me and I took it. A thrill raced along my skin. The first thought in my head was one of indecency. Was it true what Scotsmen wore beneath their kilts?

“What brings you to Applecross, Miss…?” He asked.

“Jamie.” He took my hand and I peered up at him through my lashes. “I was told I could find some great food at your pub.” His eyes were green with tiny specs of gold throughout.

Sean led me out the door into the orange and pinks of the evening sky, his hand hot on my back. Sean smiled and asked after the guests meals as we passed their tables; every bit the professional chef. We ended up on the rocky beach. Large smooth stones shifted under our feet as we walked.

“Dinner was amazing. I haven’t eaten anything so delicious since I arrived in Scotland…maybe since I was born.” I winked and he laughed, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips.

“Thank you,” Sean whispered. His hair glinted with flecks of red as the strands caught in the light of the setting sun.

“Are you staying in town?” He asked.

“No, I have a cottage near Inverness.” I looked back at the car in the distance wishing I had known about this place before my drive out this morning. I could have planned better. And now there was this man just begging to be devoured. Perhaps the inn had a free room?

“Maybe you should,” He cajoled his eyes catching mine. “I bet I could find you a room.” And he reads minds. He moved in closer. I could feel the heat of his body.

“A room?” I thought I heard my voice tremble, but all thoughts left my head as his lips sought mine. They were soft in contrast with the roughness of his facial hair. We sampled each others flavors; the spice of lips and tongue. I felt like a delicacy the longer the kiss went on, a treasured dish to be savored.

I stood on tip-toe letting my body lean into his height. My hands found his hair and the silky strands slipped from their tie and embraced my fingers, climbing like vines along my wrists. He moaned into my mouth, whispering my name.

“Yes?” I answered, rubbing my cheek against his like a contented cat.

Sean grabbed my hand and continued impatiently down the beach. He was walking fast, the rocks slipping beneath our feet making it hard to move quickly. I laughed out loud at the desire licking our heels.

After a few minutes stairs cleaved from rock came into view. They led off the beach, and up the side of the mountain. He took me up a dozen stairs and the ground leveled out. A large wood door stood in front of us with a huge gold knocker. He stopped in front of it to kiss me again and I laughed against his lips. What was I doing?

He turned the knob and we were inside a darkly lit room. He pushed me back upon the entry and I wrapped my arms around his waist pulling him flush against me. I could feel his hard cock pressing into my belly.

“Is it true?” I asked breathlessly. He leaned over and let his lips nibble along my jaw.

“What?” He whispered into my ear. I trembled as his tongue traced along the outer edge.

“What Scotsmen wear beneath their kilts?”

“Why don’t you find out?” He suggested.

I let my hands travel down his back and over his kilt. I came to the hem and my hand touched the back of his knee. I let my fingers slide up further, traversing his muscular thighs and the fine hairs that led to the swell of his BARE ass. I squeezed playfully.

“Is this sanitary?” I laughed and he pulled me into the kitchen.

“Depends on what I’m cookin’.” Sean’s teeth flashed white in the dark room as he smiled. He lifted me onto the butcher’s block that stood at the kitchen’s center. My shirt flew over my head and landed on the pot rack above our heads.

He leaned into me suckling my breasts like they were fine cream. He pulled one nipple and then the other into his mouth and they reddened to the color or ripe berries against my pale skin.

Honey gathered in my pussy wanting to be eaten.

I unzipped my jeans and lay back, lifting my hips. He dragged them down my legs and kicked them towards the dining table. My legs spread wide, inviting him to take his fill. His nostrils flared as my juices wafted through the fabric to greet him.

Sean turned from me and found a pair of kitchen shears. The shiny metal gleamed in the soft light that was coming through the window. He brought the cold steel to my hip and gently snipped through the delicate lace of my panties. The contrast in temperature of the scissors and my flesh had me moaning. He moved to the other hip, the thin fabric falling away from my body

Sean placed my knees over his shoulders. Beard hair tickled my thighs as he rubbed his cheeks against my sensitive flesh. He nibbled and teased his way around my center. His mouth swept over my pussy, tasting every fold and crease. He stoked my hole with his tongue in a steady rhythm. I was boiling, my juices making a gurgling puddle between my legs.

I took hold of his hair, pulling his face against my cunt. My feet pressed his back wanting more. His lips engulfed my clit.

Juices were flooding my boiler and covered his face. My pussy steamed. Sean’s smile glistened in the dark light of the room.

“Sean…Sean!”

“Not yet, lassie,” he stopped. I felt dazed, my body held together by a string.

“Sean, please….I…” He put a hand to my lips and turned me onto my stomach.

“Be still,” he whispered.

But I wasn’t. I ground myself against the wood. My hand slipped under my body and I played with my hot cunt. I stroked my eager opening and humped the butcher block. I lifted my ass in the air and squeezed my cheeks.

“That’s right, honey,” Sean encouraged. “Show me what you like.” My thumb pressed into my clit in hard circles. Moans filled the kitchen.

Warm oil drizzled onto my rear, catching my breath. His finger kneaded my ass, pressing the round fullness with his strong hands like a ball of dough. My ass waved in the air, wanting his cock, needing his hard dick to fill me. I begged.

Sean pulled me back until I was hanging off the block; my tip-toes barely brushing the floor. Hands on my hips, he held me still as his prick massaged the entrance of my hot tunnel. He slid in slowly, letting me eager cunt adjust to his size. He inched in further, stretching me wide.

I pulled at the other end of the block, groaning as I took him in. Flush against me, his pubic hairs brushed my ass. My insides clung to every turgid bit of flesh.

His weight rubbed the smooth wood against my tits and pussy. Fingers tangled in my hair then grabbed a fist full, rotating his hips. He kissed my neck as he moved slowly, a long grown deep in his throat. On a wave, he undulated against me. Riding me.

The smack and sting of our flesh echoed in the room. He moved faster, pushing harder.

Beneath the Kilt [1992 words] (MF, oral)

Copyright © 2005 by Crystal Barela

Sean brought his hands under me and took a hold of my breasts, pulling me upright. I grabbed the pot rack above our heads. The metal clanged over us as we fucked.

His hand on my clit and tossed me over the edge.

The sound of our skin slapping together mingled with the pots like a recipe. His dick grew, pushing at my walls then coating them with his hot come, sliding down my legs in a wet stream.

I collapsed on the block and looked over my shoulder. Sean was still dressed for work, as I lay there splayed out like some exotic cut of meat.

“I’ll show you the bedroom,” he announced. I yelped as he threw me over his shoulder.

“I like the kitchen!” I laughed.