“You look like you’re ready to burst.” Maria smacked her lips, her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth. “Anna, sweetheart, come here.”
The girl instantly materialized at her side, her head bare, her shirt already gone. She looked to Maria for further instruction, and fear spiked in Luiz’s chest. Had the demon possessed Anna? Was she in the monster’s thrall already? Were all three of them under the demon’s control? Luiz’s head spun in faster circles, and when he closed his eyes, the bed bucked violently. All that kept him from flying off was the new weight of Anna’s hands circling his wrists.
The three of them descended at once, their mouths open, their teeth pearly white and all too sharp. Blood instantly rushed to each point of contact, rising against the surface of his skin. More than ever, he felt like he could burst. Hands roamed over his body, testing the muscles in his torso, thighs, and shoulders. He’d always been fit, and though he had a little gray in his hair, he never lost his physique. But he felt as weak as a kitten, trapped beneath them, hating…loving…every second of it.
Piece by piece, the last articles of clothes were stripped away, until there was nothing between him and what felt like miles and miles of skin. Anna held him with surprising strength, but he still writhed, twisting to escape their touch when it all got to be too much, arching when he missed the pressure of their lips.
What was she after? What did she need? What would it take to satisfy her? Did she want his soul? He had a feeling that he was already damned. His lustful thoughts for Maria was surely enough to send him to Hell, and this…
He opened his eyes and the sight of her struck him harder than ever before. Her hard, tight nipples called out for his mouth, hanging like ripe berries from the vine. His mouth watered at the thought of wrapping his lips around the swollen, succulent flesh. She didn’t miss the way he stared at her, and she gently pinched her nipples, pulling at the brown skin, coaxing it into an even harder peak, moaning with each flick of her fingers.
Luiz was so caught up in Maria that he failed to notice the way Irene gained boldness with each passing second. She might have been completely new to the male physique, but she found it was very much to her liking. His body was hard as rock beneath his smooth, rippling skin, and his sweat was salty, making her tongue tingle. She couldn’t touch him enough, and she moved her body to maximize their contact, giving herself over completely to her burning lust. It just seemed so much…easier. So much better to simply give herself over…especially since the demon told her exactly what it would take to send it away.
Could she trust a demon?
Did she have any choice?
She wasn’t immune to the heightened sense of excitement, the sizzling passion that passed between Maria and the priest with every touch. Her stomach flipped and twisted, her pussy flooding with liquid heat. She tingled just under her skin, and her pulsing blood made her feel as tender, as aching, as a bruise. She didn’t know what she needed, what would relieve this strange pain…not until Father Luiz gripped her by the hips and flipped her body around, guiding her to straddle his face. His tongue pushed between her puffy lips to lick over the hard nub of her clit. She howled and didn’t recognize the sound of her own voice.
The sound sent chills sliding down Luiz’s spine, but it didn’t make him stop. Her sweet, untouched pussy ran like a broken faucet, her juices filling his mouth and sliding down the back of his throat. He hadn’t been completely innocent when he took his orders, but he never drank so deeply from a pussy. He slid his tongue up and down her lips before returning to her clit, teasing it with his lips and his teeth. She moaned and pushed her hips down, grinding her mound into his mouth.
With Irene hovering over his face, he couldn’t see what the other two women were doing. And he didn’t know to brace himself for the new shift in their attention. They moved as one, attacking from both sides, choosing the tender tendon on his inner thighs for their targets. He jerked, his knees bending, his hips hitching. They felt like red-hot branding irons on his most sensitive flesh, and he was almost afraid he’d find the shapes of their mouths permanently burned on his inner thighs.
They sucked hard on his skin, drawing the hot blood right to the surface. Even if they didn’t burn him, they would definitely mark him in ruby red and vivid purple. Once his flesh was throbbing beneath their full lips, Maria bit down, yanking him out of his head-spinning daze. The pain lanced through him, his balls pulling tight into his body. He grabbed a fistful of hair, wrapped his hand once through the long tresses to re-affirm his grip, and yanked Maria’s head up, pulling her mouth from his thigh. She stared at him, her shoulders rising with rapid, panting breaths.
“You know what you want, padre.” Maria’s face but not Maria’s voice. Not quite. He slammed her mouth onto his cock before he could change his mind, before good, moral sense could set in. He met no resistance. Her lips wrapped around his shaft, and he sank his cock all the way down her throat. She didn’t gag. She didn’t push back against his hand. He arched his hips, sinking as deep as he could go. The relief was immediate but not as exquisite as the fresh explosions of desire shooting through him.
Irene shifted her position, settling more comfortably over his face. He opened his mouth to her, tongue delving ever deeper. He could almost believe he had full control of the situation, with one hand on Irene’s hip and the other on the back of Maria’s head, but a small part of him knew better than that. He couldn’t be completely fooled, not by a demon and not by himself. If Anna was a victim of the demon’s wiles, then he was, too. He couldn’t help her anymore than he could help himself.
Maybe it was best to trust Irene as much as she clearly trusted the demon. But when she started this, had she any idea where it would go? Did she know that her priest would bury his tongue as deeply as possible into her sweet, succulent pussy? He was already regretting the fact that this couldn’t be a regular event…that soon it would be over, and then it would be over forever. The only thing better than the slick flesh gripping his tongue was the hot tunnel surrounding his swollen shaft. He used his control to set a fast but shallow pace, his cock remaining buried inside of her mouth as she pumped her head back and forth.
He felt movement to the left of him, but he wasn’t sure what Anna was doing. Not until she straddled his waist, her wet pussy sliding over his tight stomach. Irene shifted forward, and past the sounds of his own slurping tongue and Maria’s choking swallows, he heard their lips smack together. Irene moaned as her fellow nun claimed her mouth, the sound vibrating through her body all the way down to his mouth.
Touch her, he silently urged, fully expecting Anna to respond to the unspoken words. The demon would whisper them in the back of her mind and she’d lift her hand, thinking she was acting on her own accord, out of her own desires. Only a handful of seconds later, Irene moaned again—the sound much deeper, more urgent as she drove her hips downward, grinding harder against his mouth. The image of the two women filled his mind with picture-perfect clarity. He couldn’t see what was going on…but Maria could. And he realized the angle was perfect, the view undeniable. He was seeing what the demon saw—the complete corruption of two of God’s children.
They kissed each other with greedy need, mouths working to devour each other, arms and necks covered in goose bumps as their hair fell in long, silky waves down their shoulders. Anna was indeed touching the younger woman, her elegant fingers rolling over each perky nipple, playing her gently but expertly, like a well-maintained, beloved instrument. Anna was rocking back and forth, as though she already had a dick buried inside her needy pussy. The friction she created between her flesh and Luiz’s abs must have felt good, but it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her. Luiz dropped his hand from Irene’s hip, subtly sliding it beneath Anna’s body, so when she slid forward he easily found her swollen clit with his fingertips.
He strummed his thumb over her hard clit, like he was playing a guitar. She jerked with each light flick, twisting her hips, pushing down harder, mak
ing little mewing sounds of satisfaction…and want. He’d never heard anything like it before, but he had no doubt what they meant because he felt the exact same way. He wanted to make that same sound, wanted to mew and whimper in the same way. Especially when the pressure around his dick increased, squeezing tighter and tighter until he knew he couldn’t resist, couldn’t fight the inevitable.
She began to hum, the roof of her mouth and her tongue vibrating against his already-too-sensitive flesh. In fact, at first it hurt more than anything, as though she’d allowed her sharp teeth to scrape across the tender ridge. But that sensation quickly gave way to the waves of pleasure crashing through him, and the added vibrations only pushed him closer and closer and closer until he was right on the edge, hanging off the side with only his fingernails.
Let yourself go. Go with it. Surrender to the pleasure, Father. His voice, coming from inside of him, but not his. Just like Maria’s voice was her own and belonged to an interloper. He wanted to resist based on principle. Wanted to marshal whatever self control he had left to thwart her, to hold himself back from giving her the satisfaction of his satisfaction. And that might have been the most coherent logical thought he’d had all afternoon, but the demon didn’t allow it to stay in his mind for long. She redoubled her efforts, moving her mouth even faster, fucking herself on his straining cock.
God forgive me!
It might have been a coincidence when the two nuns both shuddered with their releases as soon as he erupted, but Luiz didn’t really believe in coincidences. At least, not in that room, not at that moment. He shot in the possessed girl’s throat, his dick jerking and pumping with each body-shaking blast. The two nuns were taut above him, their bodies pulled straight as a pleasure they never even conceived of broke through them.
The heat in the room snapped, the heavy air pressure suddenly gone as a cool breeze rushed into the open window. The nuns slumped, exhausted, falling away from him into boneless piles of limbs on the bed. He reached for Maria, knowing the demon was gone, wondering if she had any memory, any idea of what just transpired. Wondering if she would accept his apology and forgive him for what he’d done. In the meantime, though, his only thought was of comforting her, and he pulled her into his arms, settling her naked body in the crook beneath his arm, molding her against his form.
“F-father?”
“Shh. I’ll explain everything after you rest.”
“But I remember everything that happened.”
His heart leapt to his throat. He couldn’t say if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “Do you?”
“Yes. I…the demon…it wanted your seed. But Father…things aren’t over now. Just because it got what it wanted doesn’t mean it’ll go away.”
He sighed, recognizing the truth of her words. “At least you’re safe. How are you feeling?”
“I’m not hurt,” she said softly. “But I don’t know…I don’t think any of us are safe. Not yet.”
He didn’t have an answer for her. But at least now he knew what he was dealing with. If the demon returned, he would be better prepared to fight for himself and for the women who looked to him for safety.
On A Rainy Night
by Stephanie Silvers
Themes: public sex
Twenty-eight year-old Aisling Miles stood at her window, staring across the street. It was almost midnight and raining. A light mist more than actual rain, but enough that the usual half-dozen people who were out and about at that hour had retreated indoors. She'd showered earlier that night, planning on relaxing after a particularly stressful day at work. She'd finally been given the Donovan account, but no one had told her just how much of a pain in the ass Butler Donovan was. Every other statement out of the man's mouth was innuendo.
Not that Aisling wasn't used to it. Platinum blond hair and chocolate brown eyes, an athletic body with just enough curves to keep her figure from being boyish. She had fine features, and clear, peaches and cream skin. She was the girl other women hated and men wanted to fuck. Not a single one cared that she'd graduated valedictorian from her high school, then summa cum laude from the University of Pennsylvania with a marketing degree, or that her IQ was higher than half of the men managing the firm.
Aisling sighed. She'd thought about going to bed, maybe some light reading, but when she'd gone to pick out clothes to wear after her shower, she'd found only a pair of slightly worn boy shorts and a pale pink camisole that left very little to the imagination. So, instead of lying in bed, losing herself in a good book, she was going to go across the street and do her laundry. At midnight. In the rain. Wearing the only clean clothes that she owned.
“At least it's still warm,” Aisling muttered. She pulled on a pair of sandals; she couldn't quite bring herself to wear boots, not with what else she was wearing. She did, however, slide on her raincoat. Feeling very much like a badly written porn plot, she scowled at herself in the mirror. Now all she needed was a pizza delivery boy or someone offering to clean her pool. She shook her head and picked up her book from the table. Tucking it into the pocket of her coat, she grabbed her laundry and headed out.
She had her last load of laundry in the washer and was sixty pages into her book when the door opened. She stared, unsure if what had captured her attention was the sudden appearance or the fact that the guy was one of the best-looking men she'd ever seen. Tousled bronze curls, tall, athletic, kissable lips... and then he was looking at her. Eyes that could only be described as gunmetal gray traveled over her, and she remembered that she'd taken off her raincoat.
“Oh, shit.” She scrambled to get to it, heat flooding her cheeks.
The stranger averted his eyes as she pulled the coat back on. “A Kiss of Shadows?” He read the title off her book. “Figures.”
“Excuse me?” As she buttoned up the coat, her composure returned.
The stranger smirked, turning back towards her. “I guess you do look the type.” He crossed to the machines closest to Aisling. “I'm Cameron Long, by the way.”
“What do you mean, I look the type?” Aisling snapped as she returned to her seat.
Cameron began to load his clothes into an empty washer. “Girl alone on a Friday night reading some sort of torrid romance. Kind of cliché, don't you think?”
“Oh really?” Aisling's temper flared. “At least I know how to read.”
“That's the best you've got?” Cameron's eyes were sparkling as he turned. “Sorry, I'm actually a Laurell K. Hamilton fan.” Off Aisling's skeptical look, he amended. “All right, not really. I just wanted to...”
“Insult my choice of reading material?” Aisling crossed her arms, suddenly very aware that what she was wearing under her raincoat barely classified as clothing, and the stranger named Cameron was looking at her as if he didn't see the coat at all.
“I never got your name,” Cameron slid into the chair next to her.
“That's because I didn't offer it,” Aisling scowled. “Anyway, why should I care about your opinion of my reading habits? Your idea of a good book is probably Dr. Seuss.”
Cameron chuckled, a deep, male sound that made Aisling smile despite herself. “Come on, Seuss is quite the word master.” He glanced sideways at her. “But I prefer the more refined works of Hemingway and Milton. 'For only in destroying I find ease / To my relentless thoughts.'”
“Both misogynists and one a drunk,” Aisling shifted slightly, giving herself a better view of the young man. “I can't say I'm surprised.” She crossed her legs, flashing one well-toned limb.
Cameron's eyes flicked down to her leg, then back up to her face. “And why is that?”
“You look like the type of guy who prefers his women silent,” Aisling pulled her hair out of her ponytail, letting the damp locks tumble out around her shoulders.
Cameron reached towards her, fingers skimming across her cheekbone as he pushed back a strand. “Oh, I don't like silent women at all. I much prefer them screaming my name.”
She felt the color rising to her
cheeks at the words and looked away, flustered. The skin on her cheek still burned where he'd touched her. She was used to guys hitting on her, but her body responding was a different story. Part of it was that it had been too long – way too long – since she'd gotten laid. Sure, she'd gotten herself off, but sometimes, it wasn't about the orgasm. Sometimes it was about the touch. But that still didn't totally explain why she didn't excuse herself and go back home, clean clothes or no. Maybe some of it was the fact that he was good-looking, in that pretty-boy way, but she'd never been one to base attraction on looks alone. Or maybe, there was a part of her that liked the risque nature of what was happening, that was secretly wanting more.
“'How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, like softest music to attending ears.'”
Cameron's voice cutting through the silence drew her back.
“That's not Milton or Hemingway,” Aisling lifted her head. Two could play at this game. When she turned, he was closer than she'd thought, but she held her ground. “You think quoting Romeo & Juliet is going to score you points?”
Filthy Smut (Vol. 4): 35 Erotic Stories (Over 400 Pages of Hot Sex) Page 8