so long buried I donât want our encounter to end, and I have not yet claimed my ultimate prize.
Straddling her chest, I hitch up my skirts. I wear nothing beneath and I get a thrill as the girlâs eyes focus on my sex. Unlike her, I am dark and my bush is thick and heavy. Yet beneath the hair is the same tender flesh as hers, wet and tingling with anticipation. I have given the girl my all and now I want something in return. She does not resist as I settle over her mouth but her eyes are full of anxiety. Yet, she is keen to learn. She starts to lick, tentatively at first, and then with more enthusiasm as in my excitement I quickly respond. I already hover close to fulfilment; my arousal has been building all night. I have deliberately delayed release, but now the time has arrived.
The girlâs tongue feels exquisite as she probes and explores my sex, never concentrating on one particular spot until she finds my clitoris. My reaction to her touch there encourages her to stay. My hands move to my breasts. I pull my bodice down to expose my nipples, squeezing them between thumb and forefinger.
I am close, so close, and so wet I start to slide over the girlâs mouth. Her muffled moans enticing me to bear down harder, forcing her to drink me. Then I have forgotten the girl and my thoughts turn to Anna. There is only one thing on my mind now. I am going to come on this pretty girlâs face and nothing will stop me. I push and grind, push and grind until all focus is on my cunt and Annaâs face. This is my prize. I come hard, still grinding until I have extracted every ounce of pleasure.
When I am sated, we lie together on her bed. âI love you,â she says. So many girls have said the same over the decades; such sweet sentiments are difficult to accept as genuine. She means what she says of course. Now anyway, but come another day I would be forgotten if not for the gift I have left her. She is no longer a girl. No longer as shy. Soon, she will no longer be an ordinary woman. Now she knows she is different to other girls and I believe she will celebrate that difference.
Once the girl is asleep, I slip silently along the landing, pausing to look into the parentsâ bedroom. They sleep in blissful innocence still. I toy with the idea of slipping into their room, tasting both of them while they sleep. Only that would end my adventure with the girl and I have planned many more encounters. No, I will find someone else to feed on tonight. Someone more jaded who is not willing to explore as she has. The wanton blonde comes to mind. I wish I could take a memento with me, something to remember the girlâs fragrance for the long slumber ahead. Sadly, I cannot.
Outside the house, I hover beneath the girlâs bedroom window. Her dreams have already turned to the fallen gravestone. Tomorrow she will bring fresh flowers without knowing why. The day after she will have forgotten our encounter, yet she will feel drawn to the graveyard â to my grave even though I have not told her my name. I did not ask the girl her name. Names make no difference. She knows where I am. She will tend my grave as others have in the past. She is bound to me now, for I have part of her soul much as Anna has part of mine. There will always be something missing in her life, so she will keep searching as I do. I am not proud of what I have done. Stealing souls is wrong, I know, but then, I am already damned. One day I will be back to claim the rest of the girlâs soul and together we will dance the dance of death.
One for the Toad
by Michael Bracken
Look, if youâll just listen to me for a minute, Iâll explain everything.
OK? Youâll do that?
It all started a few days ago. I was on my way home from work at the factory, in a hurry because Kenny was coming over that night. I hadnât seen him in a week, I was horny as could be, and I knew Kenny could hit all the right buttons. I was so worked up at
Straddling her chest, I hitch up my skirts. I wear nothing beneath and I get a thrill as the girlâs eyes focus on my sex. Unlike her, I am dark and my bush is thick and heavy. Yet beneath the hair is the same tender flesh as hers, wet and tingling with anticipation. I have given the girl my all and now I want something in return. She does not resist as I settle over her mouth but her eyes are full of anxiety. Yet, she is keen to learn. She starts to lick, tentatively at first, and then with more enthusiasm as in my excitement I quickly respond. I already hover close to fulfilment; my arousal has been building all night. I have deliberately delayed release, but now the time has arrived.
The girlâs tongue feels exquisite as she probes and explores my sex, never concentrating on one particular spot until she finds my clitoris. My reaction to her touch there encourages her to stay. My hands move to my breasts. I pull my bodice down to expose my nipples, squeezing them between thumb and forefinger.
I am close, so close, and so wet I start to slide over the girlâs mouth. Her muffled moans enticing me to bear down harder, forcing her to drink me. Then I have forgotten the girl and my thoughts turn to Anna. There is only one thing on my mind now. I am going to come on this pretty girlâs face and nothing will stop me. I push and grind, push and grind until all focus is on my cunt and Annaâs face. This is my prize. I come hard, still grinding until I have extracted every ounce of pleasure.
When I am sated, we lie together on her bed. âI love you,â she says. So many girls have said the same over the decades; such sweet sentiments are difficult to accept as genuine. She means what she says of course. Now anyway, but come another day I would be forgotten if not for the gift I have left her. She is no longer a girl. No longer as shy. Soon, she will no longer be an ordinary woman. Now she knows she is different to other girls and I believe she will celebrate that difference.
Once the girl is asleep, I slip silently along the landing, pausing to look into the parentsâ bedroom. They sleep in blissful innocence still. I toy with the idea of slipping into their room, tasting both of them while they sleep. Only that would end my adventure with the girl and I have planned many more encounters. No, I will find someone else to feed on tonight. Someone more jaded who is not willing to explore as she has. The wanton blonde comes to mind. I wish I could take a memento with me, something to remember the girlâs fragrance for the long slumber ahead. Sadly, I cannot.
Outside the house, I hover beneath the girlâs bedroom window. Her dreams have already turned to the fallen gravestone. Tomorrow she will bring fresh flowers without knowing why. The day after she will have forgotten our encounter, yet she will feel drawn to the graveyard â to my grave even though I have not told her my name. I did not ask the girl her name. Names make no difference. She knows where I am. She will tend my grave as others have in the past. She is bound to me now, for I have part of her soul much as Anna has part of mine. There will always be something missing in her life, so she will keep searching as I do. I am not proud of what I have done. Stealing souls is wrong, I know, but then, I am already damned. One day I will be back to claim the rest of the girlâs soul and together we will dance the dance of death.
One for the Toad
by Michael Bracken
Look, if youâll just listen to me for a minute, Iâll explain everything.
OK? Youâll do that?
It all started a few days ago. I was on my way home from work at the factory, in a hurry because Kenny was coming over that night. I hadnât seen him in a week, I was horny as could be, and I knew Kenny could hit all the right buttons. I was so worked up at
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