Rosa was not the only one surprised when she heard Theresa speak behind her. "May I have some of that?" she asked with a coy note in her tone.
"Be my guest, baby girl. You better hurry because mistress here is trying to swallow me whole and succeeding…really well."
Ian released Rosa who proceeded to start licking up and down his shaft like it was her favorite popsicle. Theresa approached and fell to her knees beside Rosa, imitating her movements, sharing her husband, worshiping the almighty cock. Rosa told Ian to lie down supine, which he reluctantly did. Theresa kept hold of the big dick while Rosa straddled Ian's face. The females faced each other, and their lips met in a long, sensual kiss. Rosa started to grind her wet cunt against Ian as he sucked her clit between pursed lips which made her gasp, break off the war of tongues, and emit the low growl Ian had come to love. He could feel the dampness emanating from Rosa's nether region as it covered his face and Theresa re-engaged her mouth. With no preamble, she took every thick inch to the balls. She did it slowly, to begin with, increasing pressure and speed each time she orally impaled herself. One of her hands held Ian's cock while the other explored her own pussy where she easily located her slippery clitoris. Rosa watched with pride as her protégé swallowed Ian balls deep.
As Rosa achieved orgasm, she leaned toward his waist keeping her midsection and clit firmly planted on Ian's cum covered face. Ian's hips started to buck, and his cock popped out of Theresa's mouth. It swelled even bigger and gobs of sticky fluid shot into the air spattering both the women in the face while Theresa continued to jack Ian off. He thrashed enough to dislodge Rosa who rolled onto her back. Ian pounced on her, clasping her ankles and spreading her wide. He pounded the still erect cock into the undulating "V" as Theresa hovered and licked some of Ian's load off Rosa's face and tits. Ian fucked Rose until his penis was too soft to go on and then lay between the women as he had done in the dungeon a lifetime ago. When the circumstances were right, he would suggest that, if they were to leave this place, a spot near a college would be the perfect place to live and hunt. Ian could teach night classes; he considered with a satisfied grin.
They lay on the king sized, round bed, draped in cherry red, satin linens -- no doubt a figment of Rosa's imagination come to life -- and planned for a new future.
Rosa would teach them how to use their yet unrealized powers just as Father had; to avoid the ultraviolet rays of an unforgiving sun and corrosive substances such as garlic and holy water, to drink only the pure blood of the living, and to survive. Ian and Theresa would remind Rosa Violente what it was to be human and provide stability in the family dynamic. The sun was sinking into the cold Atlantic when Rosa abruptly rose from the bed and informed her lovers it was time to learn how to hunt. A devil-may-care smile arose on Theresa‘s visage as she quipped in her best Humphrey Bogart imitation (which was terrible!) "My darlings, this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship." And it was.
But nothing lasts forever.
Afterword
Hope you enjoyed this short labor of lust. It'd make me smile if you did. Many more quality titles to come, so please join me on my smutty journey to a world Beyond the Pale!
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Bonus Book 1: Audience
Celeste: New Beginnings
I can’t believe I’ve talked myself into coming here. I'm sat in my car in the dark trying to normalize my breathing; a technique my shrink taught me for dealing with any kind of human interaction. The rain, which was a sparkling drizzle in the headlights only ten minutes previous, is now lashing down against the roof of the car. I find I'm comforted by the monotony of the sound, and my breathing becomes less ragged. But, still I'm terrified. Maybe this was a mistake. Perhaps I should go back home to my safe little world. Being a solitary and private person is easy. It's Socializing that I find crippling. I’m okay with light impersonal chatting I may find myself engaging in while I'm waiting in line for my latte, or whatever. Totally on the spot and non threatening interactions like this, I can deal with. These people are fleeting; they're not going to stick around in my life, and discover who I really am, and what I'm like, so talking to strangers is no problem for me, as long as I know that they will remain strangers!
Discussing my latest dance move with my teacher or dance colleagues, I'm fine with too. I know my capabilities in this department, and I'm confident that my thoughts and opinions are valued by the rest of the dance troupe. I'll even contribute my thoughts to the choreographer because that's also a safe zone for me. The moment I'm invited out for drinks, or a meal or any social occasion, however, I just clamp up and freeze. You can imagine what dating does to me. Let's just say I'm not a big hit on the single's scene. Would you want to sit across from someone who was so uncomfortable in their skin, that it would make you want to scratch your way out of your own skin? That's the kind of awkward, low self-esteem, hyper self-conscious shyness I deal with on a daily basis.
Its’ a strange conundrum. If you saw me dance you would not believe that I'm debilitated by shyness. I can face an audience of hundreds, while up on the stage, and from my fluid movement and expansive expression, you'd think I was a prima donna.I can dance without a care in the world. Gracefully glide across the floor in full flow, my posture flawless, my arabesque polished and perfectly poised. Yet the thought of meeting a few strangers right now, and them learning about me, is making my stomach painfully clench. I feel nauseous.
I put the keys back in the ignition with a sweaty hand. It would be so easy to turn this key and drive off now, and forget about this stupid meeting.
I don’t mind the solitary life most of the time. I have no friends or acquaintances outside of work. I’m distanced from my parents; always have been. It's likely that it was their haughty, powerful personalties got me here in this rut in the first place. I could tell from an early age that my parents were both bitterly disappointed that they had sired a shrinking violet. They, themselves were highly successful, supremely confident people. I bet you never knew that your parents could make you feel so inadequate, huh?
I see them rarely. Sometimes we have lunch together, but that's about it. This suits me just fine. I’m not particularly fond of them, having spent most of my early years cared for by a nanny. Then on to boarding schools, while they traveled the world with their work. My father is a top notch architect; his work recognized from Madrid to Shanghai to Helsinki. Mother was a professional model, who’s image graced many a fashion magazine. Now she runs her own modeling agency. It's not that I doubt they love me, they're just too busy to get to know me. The only good thing they've ever done for me, was to enroll me in a ballet school when I was five. I've always loved to dance. It allows me to release all the pent up nervousness and anxiety that cripples me on a day to day basis. It's the only way I can be my true self, when I dance.
Mother is more than aware of my shyness, and still often makes fun of me because of it. Only last week she hurt me with a cruel jibe. She announced that it was time I found myself a man, before I end up a sad, lonely spinster. It's not that I haven’t had propositions, I've had plenty. Neither am I a virgin, but the less said about that the better. After my one and only sexual encounter, I wonder what all the fuss is about. I’m told I’m attractive, mirroring my mother’s body and looks. My grandfather was British. Though I've inherited my mother's thick dark hair, with her Italian background. I've also inherited my mother's height. Being a petite woman, I stand at five foot and two inches. And, I've found that this height is appealing to the men who like to feel like the protector or defender, or wha
tever. But, my willowy, petite frame doesn't serve me when I'm in front of a date, alas.
I’m currently resting from Dance School, because I've hurt my ankle. It’s nothing serious, but a ballerina needs her ankles to be strong. We have months before the opening night, and I’m only the understudy, anyway. I’ll more than likely spend most of the show in the background. Personally, I’m the best dancer there, but it’s my shyness that holds me back. “Not emotionally engaging the audience adequately,” is the line I get from my teacher. She tells me that I need to see the Audience as a living entity, that's inexplicably connected to my motions on stage; that I and the audience are one. I'm bothered by this observation, because I know she knows that I see the audience as another thing; a “them” versus a “us.” Anyway, it's this lull in my practice that has allowed me to consider joining this group. Under normal circumstances, I'd be too engrossed in perfecting my craft for the performance.
I brush the key chain, and realize I haven't turned it and fled to my womblike apartment yet. I’m sat here, in the dark, trying to build up enough courage to enter the building in front of me. In one of those rooms is a meeting of people like me; shy introverts. I’ve enrolled for an evening course that claims to be able to bring anyone -- no matter how shy -- out of their shell. I’m not convinced it will help, but I’m so desperate to lead a normal life. I want to enjoy meeting people, and going out into the world. No one knows I’m here, I’m sure my mother would laugh in my face at the confession. But, I know I can't go on like this. I'm too young. I have the rest of my life ahead of me, and I will try whatever means for the opportunity to lead a full and happy life. I read an article on the guy who runs this program: Nathan Gunn. He came across as completely enigmatic in the interview, and he revealed just enough of his ideas on shyness to garner my interest completely. Gunn claims his groups have very high success rates. The class is known as: “Bold Moves”, which is appropriate because that's exactly what's got me here today; a bold move.
The rain seems to have stopped. This is a good time for me to make the first move on what should become a new chapter in my life. There are around ten cars in the parking lot, so I suppose everyone’s already arrived. I’d better make my move. I need to do this.
Digging around in my bag, I find the piece of paper I’m looking for. It has the date and time of the meeting and the venue, the church hall I’m parked opposite from. The name, Nathan Gunn keeps drawing my eye, for some reason I’ve underlined it. Perhaps that's because I've pinned so many hopes on him.
Well, here goes. I suck in my breath and step out of the car, heading straight for the open door. Jesus, my body is so clenched, so tight. The light shines through and is welcoming. I briefly wonder if that warm glow of light is designed to feel embracing. Without a second thought I step through and make the move to change my life around
* * *
Nathan: A Thrilling New Prospect
clap my hands together and call for every one to sit down. It takes a few minutes before everyone's seated, as each awkward movement from my group settles down. All are sat bolt upright, hands clasped and staring straight at me with expectant looks on their faces. There’s an excellent crowd in tonight. The group's grown, especially since the magazine article.
“Welcome to the new members joining us this evening,” I address them, as I survey the new faces in the group. “Welcome to Bold Moves, and I want to personally thank you for making the bold move to join us here. You can fully anticipate your life getting much, much easier for you from this point on.”
That brings a smile to many faces, even those who've heard the line before. Soon, I'll feel the dynamic change, and the group will begin to relax. This isn't just a visual observation – you can literally feel the weight in the room lessen as shoulders drop, and breath is released. Because that's the first stage in this program. They have to learn to feel relaxed and at ease, in the company of strangers. This is a group of people who need to overcome chronic life-shittening shyness.
“I appreciate how difficult this is for many of you, to be here this evening. Please believe me when I tell you that I used to be the same.” I wait a few seconds for that statement to sink in, before continuing. “Yes. I too was shy. So much so, that it held me back in my life. Yet to look at me now you would never know of my past condition. You too can come to a place of peace like me, only if you allow yourself to trust me, and remain open to new experiences and new ideas.”
The audience are captive by my words – I can see barely perceptible nods and faint traces of smiles on nearly every face. I've always had a way with public speaking, even when I was shy. Even then, I could talk in public. In fact, it was an – albeit, slow – cure for my condition. I threw myself into crafting my words, gathering the wholehearted attention of my audience. And, then, finally, when I gained enough courage to continue,I began engaging my audience. Interacting with them, until I didn't even feel like I was the person I was before. I had expanded, and it was relatively painless. From that moment, I knew that if I could do it, then anybody could. I made it a mission to help others with the same psychological illness. Bold Moves was the end result of that crusade. But, Bold Moves was also much, much more than it first appeared on the surface. It was also the dark funnel into which I caught and (Mostly) cured the most paralyzingly shy, tender, sweet females. But, more on that shortly.
I am just about to start speaking again, when the creaking of the door catches my attention. As I look over at the back of the room, I see a petite pretty woman standing there, half in half and half out of the room. It's as if she can’t decide whether to enter or not. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights, as she stares at the group. When she makes her decision, she turns to leave as if her life depends on it. Seems I have a runner. I smile to myself, and something immediately ignites inside me.
“Please, simply shake the hand of the person next to you. If you feel inclined, or if the older members of this group are ready to lead by example, then please introduce yourselves and offer a few words of your experience here so far,” I leap, light on my feet, from the stage toward the departing young woman.
An echo of my shoes clicks on the hard tiled floor as I rush to catch up with her, before she has chance to leave us. She’s already out in the parking lot, and about to climb into her car. I wrack my brain trying to remember the names of the new starters tonight, and one comes to mind.
“Are you Celeste?” I ask, hoping my instincts are right. I keep my shoulders down, and my smile friendly. My arms are open in a wide, trusting arc.
She stops and turns to look at me, uncertainty stamped on her features.
I move closer, though I don’t want to scare her. She’s an attractive young woman. Small, perfect features, to go along with her diminuitive frame. She remains silent, her mouth opens a little but no noise comes out. This is going to take some work, so I put out my hand to shake hers.
“I’m Nathan Gunn, the lucky leader of this little group,” I say, forcing her to pick up her hand in greeting. All I get are her fingertips, but I hold onto them. “Come on in, so we can get started. Remember, everyone in there is in the same position as you. They all had a first time. There’s no pressure from anyone, I promise.”
She smiles at me. It’s quite dark now, and cold enough to turn our breath into vapor. Because of this, I can see she’s breathing heavy, a typical symptom of someone with chronic shyness. I do enjoy a good challenge, and it seems that Celeste will be just that. Yet, from what I can see, she’s quite a stunner. In my experience, pretty women are usually quite extrovert. I wonder what her story is.
“Let's go inside, its much warmer in there.” I lead her to the door, her fingers still in my hand. She looks uncertain just for a second, but then I see her resistance is overcome and she follows me in.
She sits at the end of a row and I make my way back to the podium.
“Right, folks, let’s get started,” I say, clapping my hands to get everyone’s attention. “Becau
se we have new members this evening, I thought we'd all introduce ourselves to each other. I know we've done this already, but bear with me, it does us good to keep repeating this exercise. I’ll start. I’m Nathan Gunn, and you can come to me any time with questions, after we finish. Josh, will you be next?” I say to a bearded guy sat on my left.
This is a practice I do quite a lot, to get each individual speaking to the group. They get to hear their own voice and learn to be comfortable with speaking in front of others. Some will just say their own name, others give us a rendition of their lives. Everyone is at a different level. Maria, one of the new members, has plenty to say. She smiles a lot and seems confident at introducing herself. Celeste doesn’t do so well. She stutters her name and then clamps up. I decide to push her a bit to see how much she can take.
“Can you tell us a little more Celeste?” I ask, once we’ve got around the circle.
I can see she’s nervous, her hands fidget and her voice is shaky.
“I’m…I’m eighteen years old,” she says, swallowing hard. “Erm…I’m not, erm…married, and don’t have, erm…children.”
She Bites (A Paranormal Dark Erotica Series Book 1) Page 4