by M. E. Hydra
Her heat and scent were stifling. Before JT could question what was happening, she pressed her soft lips against his mouth in a scorching kiss.
Her breath felt like flames streaming into his body. Her fire found something combustible within JT and ignited it. Even though he’d just come, he felt he could go again and again and again. Blood boiled through his veins. It felt like a head of steam was building in his testicles and they ached from the mounting pressure.
Her vagina coerced him with teasing little squeezes. Her moist walls gripped him—tugged, sucked. JT’s muscles tensed. He was coming. Again. Already. He gasped into her kiss and his hips twitched as he released the pressure into the welcoming clasp of her sex.
Uh. So good, but intense enough to scare him.
Asami broke off the kiss with an orgiastic sigh of pleasure. She tipped her head back and JT saw she wasn’t just a wanton hooker, she was a devil. His eyes widened.
Her complexion had darkened to red. She still had the same gorgeous, glamour-puss face and porn-star pout, but her skin was as red as blood. Her irises glowed like hot coals. Horns curled down through her tangle of flame-red hair. Beyond her shoulders JT saw the black leathery sheets of her folded up wings.
He was fucking a devil.
A devil was on top of him and fucking him.
Wisps of white vapour danced between her glossy red lips. She sucked them down with an ecstatic sigh.
“Delicious,” she purred.
JT saw the same wisps escaping his own mouth. It was from him. She was gulping down him.
Then she was lying back down on top of him again—warm pillows of her breasts pressed against him, hot lips wrapped around his. The fires burned higher in JT, fanned by her lust. He couldn’t do anything. He was overwhelmed by the urge to fuck, fuck, fuck. He started to thrust his hips back at her, aided by the springy rubber mattress beneath him, wanting to push his cock deeper into the fleshy pit of her sex.
Asami gave another sultry moan. Her soft vagina bunched up around the root of his cock and rolled up the shaft in an irresistible, tugging suction. JT’s muscles clenched again and he felt his cock swell inside her as he spurted another full load of cum into her hungry pussy.
Lost in the throes of an even stronger orgasm, JT opened his mouth and let loose a gasp. Asami placed her hands on either side of his head and let her lips form a seal around his. She caught the vapour escaping from JT and drew it into her body.
She was burning him up.
Burning him out.
He couldn’t stop. The fire was out of control, tearing through his body. He was fuel and she was going to consume him until he was completely spent.
Asami broke off the kiss with another euphoric sigh.
“Yes, I think I’ll slurp you all up,” she said.
She looked down at JT and gave him a vulpine smile.
“It’s not often we get to fully consume one of our guests. Too noticeable if too many men disappear. So we take a little portion of their sexual energy and let them leave none the wiser.”
She ran a black-gloved finger down JT’s chest.
“Such light snacks are so unsatisfying,” she said. “Sometimes we treat ourselves to a proper meal. The occasional man can go missing without any suspicion arising. No-one will know.”
She placed her hands on his shoulders and moved on top of him with smooth thrusts of her hips. The full red globes of her overflowing breasts bobbed up and down. JT felt the wet friction of her hot vaginal walls as his cock moved back and forth inside her.
“You’re my feast and I’m going to enjoy you to the full,” Asami purred.
“Someone will know,” JT said.
More white vapour escaped from between his lips and Asami drew it into her body with a sultry sigh. He felt the same plumes escape through his penis as the succubus—she could be nothing else—gave his member another soft squeeze with her vagina and sucked another long ejaculation from his body. She took his vitality with it. He had no strength to resist. The heat of her body wrapped around him sapped out all his fight and he sank deeper into the soft rubber mattress.
“No-one ever tells a soul when they go to visit a prostitute,” she laughed. “Now lie back and enjoy your final moments. All our men do.”
The room was darkening. There was a sulphurous odour in the air that mingled with the twin pungent aromas of her sex and perfume. The music was gone and instead JT thought he heard flames roaring off in the distance. And screams. Many countless screams.
“I did,” he said, little more than a wheeze. “I left a note. On the counter at home. Just in case.”
Asami stopped. Her lush lips narrowed into a frown. She gripped the sides of his head and forced him to look straight up into her burning eyes. Her gaze filled his world. It swallowed him whole and violated the hidden and secret corners of his soul.
The corner of her lips turned up in a little half-smile.
“So you did,” she said. “What a clever cautious boy.”
JT shuddered as the soft smothering walls of her vagina relaxed and released his organ. The flow of his essence into her black womb was cut off. The sudden removal of the pleasure she’d caused him felt as bad as a kick to his groin.
“How disappointing,” the succubus said. “If I don’t let you return home a number of irritating persons are sure to visit here and ask a lot of inconvenient questions. I can’t allow that. My sisters would be most displeased with me.”
Her finger traced circles around his nipple.
“Lucky boy. It seems I must content myself with a snack after all.”
She pursed her lips together and blew JT a kiss. Her breath expanded out into a spectral pink heart that enveloped JT’s face. It streamed up his nostrils and settled within the hidden lobes and folds of his brain. She used it to work on the substance of his mind—breaking some connections, rewiring others; gently shaping and remoulding his memories as it suited her.
* * * *
JT thought he’d feel more elated.
It had been good, he thought as sat on the bus home. At least he’d thought it had been good. The intensity of the memory had already faded to a kind of haze. It didn’t matter. He’d done it. He’d finally had sex—paid-for-sex, but sex nonetheless. That damn cherry was no longer hanging over him.
Strangely he felt a little empty, hollow even. There was a nagging feeling he’d lost something without being aware of what it was. Stupid guilt, probably.
He got home and saw the handwritten note he’d left on top of the kitchen counter. It had the address of the massage parlour. He’d left it for his mother in case ‘something’ happened to him and he didn’t get back before she finished work. He didn’t know what that ‘something’ might be other than massage parlours were illicit and vaguely criminal and it would be best to be on the safe side just in case he ended up being drugged, abducted and having his kidneys removed for the black market.
It was silly, really. Of course nothing had happened. This was the real world, not a stupid gangster flick. He should have been more worried about his bus getting stuck in traffic, or his mother finishing work unexpectedly early and getting back before him. That would have left him with some awkward and extremely embarrassing questions to answer.
Smiling, JT crumpled up the useless note and tossed it into the bin.
Snared, Sucked and Slurped
Rob Sommers was sailing around the point when his boat sank. It was the last day he’d have expected an accident like this to happen. A warm sun was rising up into the sky. A gentle breeze carried the scent of sea from the east. The blue waters were as flat as a piece of glass. Seagulls flew overhead in search of early morning snacks.
Then his boat sank. Just like that.
Weirdest thing Rob had seen. There was no reason for it. It was like an invisible pit had opened up before him in the sea and his little sailboat had plunged right into it like a Viking barge going over the waterfall at the end of the world. Yet the sea here was just as flat
as it was everywhere else in the bay.
Rob’s boat went down and he was pitched—coughing and spluttering—right into the cool waters.
Other than his struggles the sea was completely still. It was one of those days where the water was so clear you could see right down to the bottom about twenty feet below. He watched as his little sailboat, tipped vertical now with the prow facing downwards, sank beneath him like an anchor. He couldn’t see any sign of damage to the hull. His poor little Cali-Mari was sinking like she’d been torpedoed and he couldn’t see a mark on her.
And he was following her.
That couldn’t be right. He was young, fit, healthy. He’d been born on the coast and lived here his whole life. The sea was like a second home to him. He was a strong swimmer...
...and he was sinking just as surely as his boat. No matter how powerfully he moved his arms and legs back and forth the bottom loomed closer and the surface rose further away. He was sinking and he couldn’t understand why. He was not caught in a whirlpool, there were no weights in his pocket. Hell, the only clothes he had on were a frayed pair of cutoff shorts. It was like the water had become unable to support his weight. He moved his arms and legs back and forth in powerful strokes and still continued to sink.
He saw a silvery wall rising up to meet him and then he understood.
Gas. The seabed had belched up a big ole bubble of gas. He’d heard about this phenomenon. Gas deposits were occasionally released from the bottom and bubbled up in such quantity the water became saturated. It lost its buoyancy. Things that should float stopped floating. It was one of the theories to explain the Bermuda Triangle. He’d seen it on the Discovery Channel.
And now he was caught in the same phenomenon.
The Cali-Mari settled on the bottom below him, kicking up a small cloud of silt. Not far from it he saw the body of a naked girl lying on the seabed. A real looker as well. She sat amongst the coral with long red hair drifting out behind her like a fan. Serene. Like one of the mermaids of lore. She must have gone out for an early morning nude swim and been caught in the same phenomenon. Damn shame.
And he’d be joining her if he couldn’t kick out of this gas pocket.
He frowned. Something wasn’t right. That wasn’t coral she was sitting in. It was moving—waving in the gentle current—like tentacles. Like a sea anemone, he thought. But that couldn’t be right. Sea anemones were tiny blobs of tentacles kids poked at in rock pools. This was the size of a man and with orange-pink tentacles a few feet long.
The girl’s eyes opened.
Rob’s mouth opened in shock and bubbles of precious oxygen escaped his lungs.
Her eyes were black like marbles made out of coal. Shark-eye black. Blacker. She looked up and stared at him with naked hunger. Full lips more suited to a swimwear model turned up in a smile that chilled Rob to the bone.
Wraith. One of the drowned dead seeking out someone to join it on the sea bottom.
No, worse than that.
Fuck. Bottin was right. His crazy cousin was right.
As he drifted lower he saw it was impossible to tell where the girl ended and the giant sea anemone began. She tipped her head back and she convulsed like a woman pleasuring herself to the point of climax. Her pussy flared wide, wider, impossibly wide—a glistening pink maw opening up where a woman’s sex should be. A huge silvery bubble expanded outwards and rushed up to meet him.
Rob wasn’t swimming now, he was falling.
Falling and drowning. The worst of both worlds.
The girl put a hand to her mouth and her shoulders shook as if she was giggling. The fleshy orifice between her legs contracted and pulled down, as if preparing to shoot another big bubble.
Rob knew what she was. Bottin had told him, even though he wasn’t supposed to.
Stephen Bottin was Rob’s older cousin. He was the cool kid that hit adulthood first and became the one all the other kids went to when they wanted alcohol or cigarettes. He even used to sneak them into the T & A club, so long as they hid in the shadows at the back and didn’t stare too obviously at the naked girls like the wide-eyed virgins they were.
Bottin used to be the biggest hound dog going. If he wasn’t chasing skirt he was down at the T & A club slipping dollar bills into the cleavage and butt cracks of sexy strippers.
Until he came back... then Bottin didn’t seem all that interested in naked flesh anymore.
Everyone said it was the PTSD. While he’d been out in Eye-raq or some other hell-hole, one too many bangs had gone off too close and now Bottin’s nerves were scrambled for good. Bottin didn’t contradict them. It was only later, after a few drinks too many, he told Rob another story.
‘Wasn’t Iraq, or Afghanistan,’ he’d said. ‘Wasn’t even Earth. Fuck, I shouldn’t be telling you this. Don’t be going on telling anyone else. The ones that don’t know will think you’re crazy. The ones that do will take you away and lock you in a box and you’ll never see the sun again.’
Bottin told a wide-eyed Rob the craziest shit he’d ever heard. Inter-dimensional gates... hell-space... nightmare creatures that looked like sexy chicks crossed with unimaginable abominations and used sex as a weapon to kill men.
‘I saw one of them. Had a rack you could put on the cover of Hustler. Hot as hell, until you looked down and saw she had a body like a giant slug or grub. I watched her slurp a guy right into a pussy that was as big as a door. Her skin was transparent; I could see right through it as she sucked that dude up like a carton of juice... sucked until he was all crumpled up. And he’d moaned in pleasure the whole time like a porn star getting all jiggy. Moaned like he was getting blown by all of Charlie’s Angels at the same time. Moaned right up until his skin stretched taut across his skull and his eyes fell in.
‘Haven’t been able to look at a pair of tits the same way since,’ Bottin had muttered morosely into his drink.
Rob had thought his cousin was fucking crazy. PTSD... to the max.
Not now, not with one of the monsters Bottin had described waiting below him with arms and tentacles outstretched. It wasn’t a story from a far-off dimension. It was in the bay. Men like Bottin had returned and brought their nightmares back with them.
Rob kept trying to swim. He had a big pair of lungs and he’d filled them full of air, but it was running out. He felt a tickling sensation in his chest and throat, one that would grow and grow until his pipes burst open and he gulped down a lungful of salt death.
His foot brushed up against something that felt soft and squishy. Reflexively, he kicked out, but that unpleasantly pliant something had already wrapped around his ankle. As he thrashed, another sinuous tentacle circled his waist. Another curled around his wrist and more were unfurling hungrily to reach up and snare his limbs. Lying at the center of the nest of writhing tentacles, arms outstretched as if to hug him, was the girl with eyes like black pebbles.
Panic raced through his blood. His lungs were burning. His feet were tangled. He was going to die here—caught and drowned by a thing that shouldn’t even exist on this planet. He glanced up at the blue surface, so far above him.
Uncle Bob, Sheriff Kamen, the coastguard... please someone be up there and looking down.
He knew there wouldn’t be. It was too early. No one was around at this time. It was why he’d taken the boat out in the first place.
Rubbery tentacles wound around his ankles, binding them together. Others slithered behind his back and cuffed his wrists together. His feet landed on a soft and yielding surface that gave like a trampoline. It opened up beneath him and Rob felt something soft, fleshy and muscular wrap around his feet and ankles. He was tugged down with a peristaltic jerk.
Caught, drowned and eaten, he realized with horror.
Another gulp and he was inside up to his knees. Warm slippery flesh smothered his feet. It was like his legs were being wrapped up in an elastic bag, one that gripped and expanded to take more of him in.
At least he’d be spared the horror of being eat
en alive. He was out of air. It was getting harder and harder to resist the automatic reflex to open up his windpipe and gulp down sweet air. Only there wasn’t any air there, just ocean.
The fleshy lips beneath him swelled open in a wide gape. He felt the internal membranes vibrate against his calf muscles. She was belching up another big air bubble. He felt the bubble membrane tickle over the hairs on his chest as it welled up around him. He dimly registered it rolling up past his neck. His consciousness wavered. His mouth fell open...
...and he gulped in air.
He coughed and spluttered as he expelled sea water from his air passages. After that he was surprised to find he could breathe normally, although there was a strange tang to the air. He looked around and saw he was standing in a large bubble. This time the sea anemone girl had caught the bubble with her tentacles rather than letting it float up to the surface, and it formed a silvery dome above the both of them.
Rob looked down and saw the girl lounging on a bed fringed by her own tentacles. She was beautiful, with a pair of naked breasts as good as anything he’d seen on those rare, furtive occasions when he’d snuck into the T & A club. But there was also a badness to her—like an evil film seductress about to sink her talons into unsuspecting prey. Dangerous sexy.
Even more so, considering she wasn’t human and he appeared to be standing up to his knees in her vagina. Or mouth.
“I couldn’t let you drown. Not before we’d had a chance to have some fun.” He was surprised when she spoke to him in English.
Rob wondered if he’d drowned and these were the last splutterings of oxygen-starved neurons slowly dying in his brain. What did they call it—narcosis of the deep?