Dark Desires - Love That's Out of This World (Xcite Bestselling Collections)

by K D Grace

  ‘The glide of her overfull lips down my shaft was divine; her velvety mouth pure wet heated heaven engulfing my cock; her sliding tongue a silkily sublime instrument of otherworldly pleasure. Or so I thought at the time. Only later, did I come to know that that mouth and those lips and that tongue had more fallen angel than exalted angel about them.

  ‘But, right then, I revelled in the woman’s wondrous cocksucking. She consumed my full throbbing length, sucked back up, stroked forward again, blowing me soft and supple and sensuous as the hot, humid summer breeze blows the trembling leaves on their hard wooden branches.’

  Colonel K and Miss Anna exchanged glances.

  ‘I’d never experienced a finer fellatio,’ Captain Yannsen went on, a strange shining light in his myopic blue eyes. ‘I just stood there in the open road, under the burning sun, looking down at the ethereal woman, feeling her eternally erotic suck and lick and tug all through my exposed, wildly pulsing body and soul.

  ‘Then I climaxed, suddenly, overwhelmingly, uncontrollably. Flooding her mouth. And she swallowed! Drank in my heated jack with a willing, voracious appetite, her milky eyes gleaming up at me, throat working with fearsome intensity. That was when I truly realised that this was no ordinary country-kin woman – for they may suck, but nay do they swallow.’

  Colonel K raised his eyebrows at Miss Anna. She crossed her arms under her breasts.

  ‘My suspicions, and fears, were confirmed when she led me deep into the woods, down to the Josporus River, then below-ground, into the caverns. That’s where I saw the other men – scores of them – lying on the ground, naked. Tending to them, turning them erect at the groin and then sucking and swallowing, were a dozen or so women just like the one who had led me astray.

  ‘It was all so weird, so eerie, down in those dimly-lit caverns. The laid-out men, the women servicing them. Just the sound of rapacious slurping, the weak grunts of climax, the eager gulping and gulping and gulping!’

  Captain Yannsen sprang to his feet and grabbed onto the desk. ‘They were feeding on their bodily fluids, don’t you see! Those men were being sucked of their very lives!’

  He dropped back down into the chair, exhausted. ‘I was laid out and tended to like the others, hour after hour initially, then more sporadically, as I became more drained. I was held fast at first by the irresistible eroticism of the women, by what they were willingly doing to my over-receptive cock. And then, when it was too late, I was too weak even to get up – except for it now and then.’

  Captain Yannsen buried his face in his hands, shuddering at the memory.

  Colonel K and Miss Anna stared at one another, their own faces drained of colour by the disturbing report.

  ‘Who … what are they, Colonel?’ Miss Anna breathed at last. ‘These oral whores?’

  Colonel K sat down in his chair and folded his fingers together. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘We’ve all heard the legends of vampires roaming the countryside – but vampeters … I’ve never heard tell before. Craving protein instead of plasma? The life-blood of young men who should be dutifully serving their country at the …’

  He suddenly sprang to his feet and wheeled around his desk, fastened his capable hands onto Captain Yannsen’s slumped shoulders and violently shook the man. ‘You escaped their cocksucking clutches! How did you get away!?’

  The Captain looked up into his superior’s glaring eyes, taking strength from the other man’s rough treatment. ‘My … friend Karl rescued me. He’s a homosexual, so he wasn’t caught in the vampeters’ velvet-lined trap. He beat the bushes looking for me when I failed to appear at a scheduled rendezvous with him, found me and dragged me out of there.’

  Captain Yannsen glanced nervously from the Colonel’s grim face to Miss Anna’s even grimmer visage. ‘I’m, uh, bisexual, you see.’

  ‘Not if I can help it,’ Colonel K muttered. ‘But that provides me with a strategy – for getting those men back and up to the front where they belong. A-tten-tion!’

  Captain Yannsen and his friend Karl guided the squad to the spot along the riverbank where a narrow path led through the thick brush to the underground caverns. Colonel K was at the head of what he’d dubbed, “the sissy brigade”, 25 men selected for their flagrant homosexuality; unfit for regular service, but ready-made for this special duty.

  The Colonel, himself, wore a gas mask, the glass of which was deliberately distorted to prevent clear vision. Thus, he was protected from the seductively intoxicating sight and scent of the sucking women.

  ‘I want an orderly evacuation,’ he told his men, his voice as distorted as his eyesight by the gas mask. ‘First, we’ll secure the women. Then the men.’

  There were moans of protest at the ordering, but Colonel K and his brigade charged down into the caverns. As Captain Yannsen beat a hasty retreat back through the woods to the road.

  On the road, was lined up a column of motorized troop carriers. Under the blackout canvas stretched over the rear of the last truck in line, was a steel cage, capable of holding a dozen or so prisoners. The men manning the vehicles all wore gas masks similar to the Colonel’s.

  The women rushed at the invaders, as they stormed into the caverns. There were twelve women, all told, a comely dirty dozen alike in milky-white appearance. They fell at the booted feet of the squad, dexterously drew cocks out of trousers, throatily sucked.

  But their salacious counter attack was met with stunning indifference. Cocks stayed soft; Colonel K’s, locked up for good measure in an iron chastity belt, secure.

  The assault was repelled. The women staggered to their feet with creamy expressions of terror. They fought hard against their capture, however, their strength almost equal to that of the slightly feminised men under the Colonel’s command. But sheer numbers, and Colonel K’s indomitable will, soon turned the battle. He clapped irons onto the wrists of the vampeters, as his soldiers held them tight.

  Ninety-eight men were taken barely alive and bodily-fluid-drained out of the caverns. To be rehydrated and rested. Then shipped to the front.

  Miss Anna glanced up from the Colonel’s erection. ‘But what will you do with those – those vampeters?’ she spat out, on to Colonel K’s cock.

  He shuddered, as she resumed sucking. He stroked his riding crop contemplatively. ‘They will have to be destroyed,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Our scientists are working on a special “rod” which ejaculates a toxic chemical when sufficiently heated and wetted and pulled upon. It’s a shame they …’

  ‘They should be the ones sent to the front,’ Miss Anna pouted, teasing a drop of precome out of the Colonel’s slit and slurping it up and swallowing it down. ‘Not all those handsome young men.’

  Colonel K looked down at the woman squatting beneath his desk. Then he bolted even more erect, to his feet. ‘A capital idea!’ he roared. ‘We’ll send the vampeters to the front as part of a prisoner exchange with the enemy – two hundred of our captured men for twelve of their captured women. They’ll wreak havoc in the enemy trenches!’

  He stood tall, both vertical and horizontal. Miss Anna gripped his shining cock with delight. ‘The war will be over by Christmas,’ Colonel K pronounced.

  Circle in the Sand

  by Elizabeth Coldwell

  The beach was completely deserted as Aidan and I strolled along it, only the odd gull wheeling overhead to break the illusion there was nothing left in the world but us. Waves rolled gently on to the shore and the sky was a rich, clear blue, unbroken by clouds. It was possibly the most romantic setting I’d ever found myself in, yet all I could feel was a simmering resentment which had started the moment we boarded the cruise ship.

  When Aidan had told me he’d booked us on a summer cruise, I was delighted. We’d always had very different ideas of what made the perfect holiday. I was never happier than when I was lying on a beach in the skimpiest of bikinis, nose buried in a trashy paperback novel and a jug of sangría close at hand. Aidan, on the other hand, preferred city breaks, mixing a da
sh of culture and the cool interior of a bar or two. With his red-gold hair and pale, Celtic complexion, the sun was never going to be my husband’s friend.

  Somehow, despite being diametrically opposed in our tastes, we managed to reach a compromise. We would take it in turns to choose a destination. At first, it had worked pretty well. Two years ago, Aidan had taken us to Amsterdam for a week. He’d loved the museums and the brown cafés, and I had taken advantage of our apartment’s tiny sun trap of a balcony to work on my tan. The following summer, I’d rented us a villa in Cyprus, giving Aidan the chance to explore the island’s ruins while I luxuriated by the side of our pool.

  So, this year, Aidan didn’t even need to show me the brochure before he booked our trip. I was sure he would instinctively know what would please both of us, and pictured us cruising the Mediterranean in style. There’d be a stop-off at somewhere historic, like Pompeii, which he would enjoy, and the rest of the time I could lay on the sun deck, sipping a refreshing cocktail or two.

  Except Aidan had other plans. ‘A cruise of the Scottish islands?’ I asked in disbelief when the tickets arrived. ‘Are you kidding me?’

  ‘You’ll love it, Amy. The Hebrides are really beautiful. We’ll be able to take long walks on the beaches, and the food on board ship is supposed to be exquisite. We might even get the chance to dine at the Captain’s table.’

  I bit back a reply, barely able to hide my disappointment. Instead of bikinis, I knew I’d be packing sweaters and hiking boots. Not exactly my idea of a dream holiday.

  As the date of our departure drew near, I did my best to convince myself it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought. Maybe my horizons were too narrow. There was every chance I could be seduced by the combination of stunning scenery and fine cuisine Aidan described.

  That’s what I continued to think until the moment we stepped off the train at Oban station, after a three-hour journey from Glasgow, to see rain beating down from a heavy grey sky. There was no sign of a taxi, and even though it was only a relatively short walk to the pier where the Hebridean Queen departed, by the time we reached the ship we were soaked through and on the verge of a volcanic argument.

  It was hardly the ideal start to our holiday, and even though our cabin was beautifully cosy and the food just as good as had been promised, with a generous glass of 12-year-old malt as a most welcome nightcap, I was still too mad at Aidan to really appreciate it.

  The weather barely improved over the next couple of days. Nor did my mood. I hardly said a civil word to my husband and spurned the chance to take the organised walking tours, preferring instead to skulk in our cabin with a magazine and my MP3 player.

  In the past, a holiday had been our opportunity to enjoy long, sensuous sex sessions, rather than the frantic fucks which were all we usually managed to find time for, given our busy routines. Now, however, when Aidan reached for me in the middle of the night, his hand seeking to mould to the curve of my breast, I moved away, or pretended I was so deeply asleep he couldn’t rouse me.

  We would have carried on festering like this for the whole week, doing who knows how much harm to our marriage, if we hadn’t woken on the fourth morning to see that the clouds had lifted.

  ‘Sun’s shining,’ Aidan commented brightly, before going to take his morning shower. I caught a glimpse of his taut arse cheeks as he padded across the cabin barefoot, clutching a towel in front of him. If I hadn’t been sulking, I might have been tempted to join him in the shower cubicle. I’d been so snowed under with work in the last few weeks that I couldn’t remember the last time Aidan and I had enjoyed a really good fuck. We could change all that right now. There was just enough room in the shower for two, and I knew he wouldn’t object when I sank to my knees and grabbed fistfuls of those glorious cheeks while I sucked lovingly on his cock...

  I snapped out of the fantasy quickly, before I could seriously think about putting it into action. Now the weather had improved, I no longer had an excuse to avoid going ashore. Once Aidan had finished in the shower I quickly took my turn, before dressing in jeans and a thick top. I supposed I had to at least show willing, even if there were a hundred things I would rather be doing than tramping through the dunes on some barely habited island.

  The Hebridean Queen docked in the harbour on Berneray just after breakfast. We were given the choice of taking a guided tour, which would include a stop-off at the island’s tea shop and a dedicated seal viewing spot, or exploring on our own.

  ‘Let’s not do the tour,’ Aidan suggested, hefting his back pack over his shoulder. ‘The beaches on the other side of the islands are supposed to be the ones that are really worth seeing.’

  I didn’t argue with him, even though I quite liked the idea of watching seals basking on the rocks. Much to my surprise, now I was on solid ground for the first time in days, the urge to go exploring was hard to resist.

  We must have walked for a couple of miles and seen no one apart from a farmer who waved to us from his tractor as we passed and the odd placidly grazing sheep. At last we saw the sea, and within minutes we had rounded the dunes and reached the most breathtaking stretch of unspoilt white sand.

  ‘This is amazing,’ Aidan said, speaking in hushed tones as though not wishing to disturb the peacefulness of the surroundings. ‘Really worth coming all this way.’

  I muttered something non-committal in reply, then my eye was drawn to something that appeared to be buried in the sand. It glittered where the sunlight hit it. When I examined it more closely, I realised it was a bottle, and it looked like it had something inside it.

  Fumbling with the cork that had been firmly wedged in the neck to keep the contents safe and dry, I finally wrenched it open. I tilted the bottle and a rolled-up piece of paper slithered out into my palm.

  ‘Wow!’ Aidan was right behind me, the point of his chin resting on my shoulder. ‘A genuine message in a bottle. What does it say?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I felt strangely shy about opening it up, in case the contents turned out to be a love letter or something equally private.

  ‘Whoever put that thing in there meant it to be read,’ Aidan pointed out. ‘Perhaps it’s a cry for help from a shipwrecked sailor.’

  ‘Who could have been dead for hundreds of years.’ Even though the bottle had piqued my curiosity, I still couldn’t resist sniping at Aidan. ‘I mean, how often does someone come walking along here? But if it keeps you happy...’

  I carefully unrolled the paper. If it was as old as Aidan suggested, there was a chance it might crumble away if I handled it too roughly. Whatever I’d been expecting, it wasn’t the screed of tiny, copperplate writing that was headed, ‘To bring back what you are in danger of losing.’

  ‘So, what is it?’ Aidan reached for the scrap of paper, but I held on to it.

  ‘It seems to be some kind of spell,’ I said incredulously. ‘There are instructions telling whoever finds this to draw a circle in the earth, then stand in the middle of it and recite the words that follow.’

  ‘Well, we don’t have earth, but we do have plenty of sand...’ Aidan reached for a piece of driftwood that was lying close by his feet and rapidly sketched a circle about a metre in diameter.

  ‘You’re taking this seriously?’ I could hardly believe what I was seeing. Aidan was the most rational, sceptical man I knew. He’d once mocked the suggestion I made on a day trip to Brighton, early in our relationship, that we should visit a gypsy fortune teller to find out whether we had a future together. Now he was preparing to perform what appeared to be a centuries-old spell.

  ‘Come on, Amy. You saw what it said about bringing back what you’re in danger of losing. You can’t tell me that doesn’t apply to us, not after the last couple of days.’

  I was genuinely surprised by his reaction. I’d been deliberately cold to him, but I fully intended to thaw out again ... When? I asked myself. Back home, with all the stress of work deadlines and commuting and keeping on top of my finances? Suddenly, I realised how easy it wou
ld be to let everything slide, to gradually find myself too tired for sex, too busy to show Aidan how much he really meant to me. Here I was, too concerned with scoring points and wallowing in self-pity to notice I was neglecting what was really important in my life.

  ‘OK.’ I stepped into the circle, still feeling a little foolish, and together Aidan and I spoke the words on the paper.

  ‘I ask the gift of second sight

  To see the past, to set things right

  And grant to me a future bright.’

  I looked round. Nothing seemed any different. ‘I don’t think it’s working.’

  ‘Let’s try it again.’ Aidan took hold of my hands. ‘Close your eyes and really wish hard, like when you were a kid and you blew the candles out on your birthday cake.’

  So I did. We recited the spell again, then once more for luck, and that’s when it happened. I seemed to feel the blood fizzing in my veins, and a surge of heat where my fingers were linked with Aidan’s. I opened my eyes to see that the air between us appeared to be shimmering. I blinked hard, but the illusion didn’t vanish. If anything, it appeared to grow brighter, as though I was looking at a TV screen.

  Just as with a TV that’s being tuned in to a channel, the picture moved from white snow and fuzz to something more solid. Two figures seated at a restaurant table. I recognised them instantly, and their surroundings. Aidan and me, on our third or fourth date, in a little Italian place close to where I worked. There was no sound, but whatever Aidan had just said had caused me to laugh and blush a little. He reached for my hand, caressing my palm with his thumbs in slow circles. I remembered exactly how that had felt at the time. I’d started to get wet at his touch, knowing I was being deliberately seduced by him and not caring in the least. This was the night we’d fucked for the first time, finally giving in to the sexual attraction that had been raging between us since the moment I’d been introduced to him by one of my colleagues at a press launch.