The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 10

by Maxim Jakubowski

  “Why did you come to this place?” I say.

  “It’s nothing complicated.” he says. “I’m staying with Aunt Tilly. She’s born again and wanted me to come here with her. That’s all it is. I didn’t want to stay at her place alone.” He is keeping his distance from me. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  I move in close to him, touching him again – and oh the joy to feel him against me, the heat of him – still holding my bag, but stepping close enough for my breasts to aggressively brush up against him. I’m trying to get him to put his arms around me, but he steps back and I feel his fear. “Why?” I say.

  “I got to know if you’re all right.”

  “No – why did you not want to be there, alone? You were afraid.” He looks down, ashamed. And afraid.

  “Why, my love? Why were you afraid?”

  “I thought you might be looking for me.”

  “Of course I was looking for you,” I say soft and slow, feeling the bag in my hand grow heavy. “Why would I not look for you? Why would you not want me to find you alone? I’m still your woman. Don’t you want to be alone with me?”

  “I thought …” He is really sweating it now. It is miserable to see. “I thought you’d be pissed.”

  Whispering. “Why would I be pissed? Hmn. Now, let me think.”

  He only looks at me with those angry frightened eyes, and I wish I were blind. This is not the Daniel I came to find.

  “Why would I be pissed, kuschelbaer?” He is looking at the bag now. He knows. “Oh, I wanted to give you these. Look what I found beside my little bed.” I put the bag on the ground, unzip it and reach in. One in each hand, I show him. A hammer in one hand, I show him. A sharpened piece of wooden broom handle in the other, I show him. I hold them out to him. “Is this why I would be pissed at you? You think?”

  “Dammit, Nixie!”

  I thrust them out to him. “What are these? What are these?”

  He turns away. He can’t look at me, but I am trembling now. I can’t stop myself or what I feel. “What is this?” I shake them at him. I stamp my feet. I know I’m ruining everything, and I can’t help it. I love him so terribly I want to bite his nose. “Is it a sexy new game you want to play? You can dress up and be the fearless hunter Mr Van Helsing, jah? And I will be sexy little Miss Lucy, in my nightgown in my toy coffin, and you will climb in with the hammer and the stake, yes? – and we will play and do the rinky-tink together and have some fun, yes? Would you like to maybe do that now? Now is a good time. Let’s play Van Helsing—”

  “Shut up! Shut up!”

  Now he is almost crying and I am almost crying too. I shake them at him, screaming, “What were you thinking?” I hate this, to be cruel to him. I’m hurting him, but it’s the only way to know where things stand. I try to calm myself and remember what it really means, finding there the hammer and the stake discarded beside my bed. “You couldn’t do it, could you?”

  “I couldn’t do it. God help me, I couldn’t do it.”

  I hate myself for doing this, but this is the road I must lead him down, until he is tame again. “Why?” Softly I speak, because I would be his lover again and he is almost mine. “Why not?”

  He shakes his head.

  “I want to hear it. Please say it. Say for it for me, please. Why couldn’t you kill me in my sleep?”

  “Because I couldn’t. I love you. God forgive me.”

  “Why God forgive you? What’s wrong with being in love with me?”

  “You know why. Don’t act innocent.”

  I shove the hammer and stake at his chest but he won’t take them and steps away, blundering backwards. “Why don’t you kill me now? Right here?”

  “I can’t! But somebody should.”

  Oh this hurts. I didn’t expect that he would say it.

  “Why somebody?”

  “Nordchen, I love you with all my soul and I always will. But. But, you need … That is. Somebody needs … You need to be put down.” “Put down?” To hear it said that way. It shocks me. “Why put down? I’m not some mad dog, Daniel.”

  “Jesus, Nixie—”

  “Stop! Don’t say his name in vain.”

  “Oh now, now you’re getting all religious on me, is that it? It’s not that simple, honey.”

  “Why is it not that simple! Have faith in me. I love you. Love me!”

  “I do.”

  “I’m saved, Daniel. I’m saved by the blood of Jesus. The holy man has removed the demon from me, did you see it? I’m just a girl now like any girl. We can have a baby. I want a baby for you. We will have a home. My sins, all my sins, they’re forgiven. We’ll begin again. Make a baby with me.”

  “I don’t think it works like that, sweet pea,” he says. The fear in him is changing to rage, and I can’t help but smell it. He’s getting out of my control. “Tell me something. And damn you, tell me the truth.”

  I know already what it is.

  “There’s this thing on the TV news,” he says.

  “No!” I say. “Don’t you keep bringing that up again.”

  “You listen to this. Four bodies behind the railroad yard.”

  “No!”

  “They were torn to little pieces. Jesus.”

  “Shut up!”

  “No fucking heads! Does that mean anything to you? No heads.”

  “So?” It is all I can do now not to throw the hammer and wood at him and run away crying like a little girl.

  “Last week I found you with blood all over you.”

  “So?”

  “Blood all over you?”

  “I told you already – I told you. It was pig’s blood.”

  “Pig’s blood? Four guys, ripped to fucking little pieces. Somebody saw you. They’re calling you ‘The Ripper’.” Now he’s pulling at his hair. “Oh God. Oh God,” he says. “Pig’s blood! Pig’s blood?”

  “They were pigs!” What’s the use.

  “Jesus! Nixie! Je-zus!”

  Feebly I hold out the hammer and stake. “So do it if that’s what you want. You were afraid I’d be pissed at you, and maybe pull your head off. Is that what you think of me? I won’t fight you. Where do you want me to lie down?”

  “No!” He is in agony. Sweet prince. “I can’t. I won’t. I can’t stand the thought of hurting you.”

  “You’ve already hurt me. Your eyes have hurt me.”

  I thought I knew him, but he is going right to pieces. Yet I feel his growing excitement. There is yet a part of him, not a very nice part that likes this, that a creature who could do such terrible things could love him also. It is unnatural, but it has bound him to the old me.

  Since he will not come to me, I go to him, catch him, struggling, and hold him tight to me. “I understand,” I whisper in his ear. “And you were right before. But it’s different now. We have many ordinary days ahead of us, you’ll see. I’m not that person. I’m just your girl now. I’m washed in the blood of Jesus Christ.” Now his arms are around me too and for the first time I feel his desire for me. It’s not enough to love him. I must have him too. I want to arouse him. I want him to want to fuck me. More than anything I want him to stay with me.

  I throw the things down on the ground and wrap myself around him, licking at his neck and he shivers and does not pull away. I whisper in his ear, “We have only each other.” I loosen my hold and drop to my knees. I am going to do something new for him, what women do, but what I have never done for him. On my knees I unfasten his old belt. Open. The zipper down. Both hands – take – tug and all down, and there he is – there he is and I have missed him and longed for him so.

  I have it in my mouth, warm, surprised and stiffening between my lips, struggling in my hand like a warm bird. I have never done this for him, and it is a thrill to do this. I have done this in the past to relax the prey only, until the fatal moment they close their eyes in pleasure. But this is real. This is sincere, because it is my Daniel in my mouth and I am his woman and his love and I would do this, and anythi
ng, to have him back and he must know this truly.

  Sucking him hard, feeling him swell. His belly muscles tense and now his hands are on the back of my head, and his fingers in my hair. I have him. We are together again, and I have won.

  He pushes me off of him. But in this moment, when he might scold me and run back to the place where the people are, his clothes are coming off. He is hungry for me. I have won.

  I pull away my jacket, drop it by the old pine tree. I pull off my T-shirt and throw it on the ground, standing with my fists at my side, daring him, waiting for him to undress the rest of me. Already he is nude, his sex standing up hard as nails for me. He seizes the straps of my bra and pulls it up and over violently, snapping the little buckle off into the grass. My breasts fall free, and his eyes – does he see as I do? His eyes are on me. I am an ordinary girl, only a woman, but his eyes claim me. I am his woman.

  Off with my jeans and then all the rest, pulling and taking me forcefully. His lips on my face, his hands smoothing over my breasts, spinning me roughly in his arms and pressing me backwards against his chest while his rough forearms hug me hard from behind, palms hoisting my breasts, pulling me fiercely to him. His fingers pinching my nipples so that I have to crouch down from the pleasure as fierce as pain. “Pig’s blood,” he whispers in my ear and drags me down roughly to the ground.

  I feel such doubt now. His words frighten me. I am not that demon, but only a clumsy relic, an ignorant Hessian girl who doesn’t even know how to drive a car. Maybe he was the right person for me before as I was, but maybe that has changed too. Maybe he is wrong now that I’m not evil anymore. Maybe he is a man who must love an evil thing to be excited, and I am only a girl like any other girl he might have for himself. I will not be bound by death and dark anymore. Will we still want each other?

  He will be the sacrifice of my liberation from sin. I am alive. I might have anyone too, but I want him. I must fight for him.

  Laying on my back, like every woman has from the beginning of days. My man laying on top of me, dropping his weight on me, kissing me and moving his palms over my chest, burying his face in my neck. He meanly nips my neck. He has never done this before. It hurts a little, not so fun. Why did he do that? I want to ask him, but he is sliding down my belly, hands slipping under my breasts from underneath their swell, hoisting them up as he breathes in my curled hairs, exploring my netherlands with his lips. I am lost in him. I don’t want him to stop. If he were to kill me now in my happiness, I would let him.

  Lips on my cunt, lapping, tongue poking and provoking. Everywhere jolts and gushes. My knees rise to show my surrender more to him and he pushes them down. We are musicians reading each other. I feel him down there working at me, listening and feeling for my response and I moan for him. He works harder, good boy! Do! Do! I listen to him too, with my bones and skin.

  This is not as before. It is not about feeding anymore. This is how men and women make love. I had been a virgin until now. We had had pleasure, but it was about the evil, we did not make love like this. My clit is in his lips and I have never felt him do these things before. He has been given his taste of freedom too, and he chose me. Is he now then mine? Is it not so? He teases my clit with his tongue and I press my cunt at him. A fog of gratitude. I’m afraid to move or distract or frighten him. Is this what women feel? Does Ruby’s husband do this for her?

  He pauses and stops. Just when I’m about to ask what is wrong he pokes his tongue deep into me and I shriek with a sudden thrill of pleasure.

  He is breathing from the nostrils, puffing from the mouth, tickling the short hairs of my cunt, my thighs tense and rise and he presses them down again, running the flat of his tongue over my clit. “Unh!” My voice, pushing hard against his lips, wanting what he is doing. I grunt. I ripple. I am a pig wallowing against his lips, vibrating in the pleasure. “What are you doing?” I whisper. A deep shudder and a wild gathering thrill as if bees are flying under my skin. “Daniel!” A shout, as though he were breaking something. “What are you doing to me!” Squeezing his face with my thighs, rising, pressing my thighs down again, my belly down. He is in command. There is a huge pink ocean inside my loins. I feel huge and swollen and soaked and in his thrall.

  I could feel the excitement coming together inside me, gathering like rain. It was not only the sex, I wanted him. I had never felt this way. It was not about feeding. I wanted all of him, his devotion forever. I wanted to belong to him, like his shoes belonged to him. I want him to be vulnerable to me and for us to own each other again.

  My body is moving by itself and there is a wall inside me I want to pass. I am struggling with myself to let go, to surrender, to truly surrender to him as I only pretended to do with so many others, suckers sucked dry, and left for dead. I don’t want to remember them now! This moment belongs to me – to me! I am a child learning to feel in a new way.

  My nails in his back, his hair, his ears, his tongue rasping flat against my yawning sex. I would do anything for him at this moment – would die if he asked me too. If he took up the stake I would hammer it home with my own hands to make him want me more.

  Clasping his cheeks between my legs and keeping him lest he ever run away again. The pleasure pools in me everywhere, rising and falling and I feel my heart, and it is beating! There is a heart in me and it lives. Does he feel it? If I reach down between my thighs and grab him by the ears and draw him up and press his ear between my breasts will he hear it, and know Jesus has done this for me, and his own faith in me has done this for me by keeping me with him – by making me want this moment – and it belongs to him as I belong to him body and soul, my ordinary little soul? I will do it.

  And so I do. Lifting up, his eyes looking up at me, questioning, seeing my drunken smile. My hands take his ears like pitcher handles and I pull him up protesting, and my tingling pussy protesting too. I want him inside me when I come, and the night is passing too fast. I put his head on my chest, press his ear in the valley between my breasts where I feel the fast beat thumping. He hears it too and his eyes are wide. He looks up at me in wonder. He hears a miracle down there in the depths of me. I sigh for him and he hears me breathe.

  “Come inside,” I whisper. “I don’t need to be put down anymore.”

  I wish he would say something, to reassure me, but instead he gets right to business. It makes me a little angry, he wants to fuck, but I am not that demon, I am a proper woman now and he should make love to me instead. It should be more now that I have a heart beating in my breast. He should understand.

  I had been killed a virgin. I had never really fucked this way before, as only a woman and a man. This is that rarest thing for me – a new experience. To make love and feel what a woman feels. To conjure in him the wanting, the groaning desire for more and more of me until there is nothing in the world for him but me in this moment. I want to open and bloom for him.

  Hard, soft head of his cock so warm, insinuating, knocking at the door of me. The head of his cock pressing between the lips below feels so good, I want to scold him for being in such a hurry. But the thing is in and it is moving. Going in, knocking against the last skin of my virginity that will never be renewed again.

  Ow! – oh … Fear. It is so fearful to be pierced, knowing it will not come again. It is so right. Inside. Inside me. More! Stay. Stay there forever.

  His belly slapping, slapping down, his weight on top of me, panting, his breath in my ear, his hand behind my head, clutching hard my hair, and his other hand under me, squeezing my ass. My hips pushing up, shuddering, to welcome his thrusts. He knows. He would not dare to put his face, his neck so close to my teeth before, but he knows and he is making love to a woman now, not a white evil mannequin. He believes. His body and his manly way with me tell me he believes there is no danger in me now and I am a woman and I am his woman.

  He stops moving, hanging. I am tormented and suddenly he bangs at me hard, as though his body were a cudgel. “Unh!” he yells. “Unh!” I receive him. He hove
rs over me, holding himself up by his palms and feet so that nothing touches but his cock inside me. “Nuh!” He lets himself down hard and bangs me with his whole body and I feel it all, his slick cock, his belly, the pine needles sticking in the skin of my back. I feel all of it. His cock is the stake, his belly the hammer and I am slain and in bliss.

  “Please,” I whisper.

  “Unh!” Again, the stake thrusts and the hammer of his belly strikes with my legs splayed wide. He hovers over me, his face just inches from mine, smiling, looking into my eyes and I am the one hypnotized by him. I am his slave and in this moment I would do anything for him. I would do anything to make him want me more. His eyes staring fearlessly into mine. My young white American boy. He would never kill me now. I remember – I remember now, this is how babies are made. Now that I am ordinary, will we have a baby tonight? We will be a real family like any family and he will mow the lawn for me and I will taste the food I cook for him.

  “Ah!”

  I take his thrusts which are coming hard, angry, fierce. In a rhythm with a tormenting pause at the end of each blow, just long enough to make me yearn for the next. Strengthening. Yielding. Impatient. Amnesiac. Deep. Hard. More! Do it! Don’t stop. Do it to me! Faster. Together. Confused. Astonished. Harder! Do it!

  His hand behind my head – Unh! – in my ear, gripping hard my hair, pulling my head back, baring my throat as I have done, breathing, his mouth open in pleasure, biting my skin, hurting me, whispering. “It feels so good. You fuck. I missed you. You cunt. You little scary cunt. You scary little fuck. Unh!” Hammer and stake. Pounding me hard into the good night earth. My cries like song birds from my mouth to his ear.

  Twisting tremors, the sea boiling, rising up in my loins – Leviathan rising – “Kuschelbaer!”

  It is different. It feels so different, to come this way. To feel what woman feels at that moment, dying at every second. I am no demon. I don’t need to be put down.

  I am much changed. I was a virgin when I died. He tore me tonight. Do I bleed? Suddenly I have to know. Everything depends on it. If I am a girl, surely I must bleed down there, a simple girl on her wedding night. Again! I want to feel this again!