Oct 102012
 

“Greetings, mortals!  It is me, Suckubeth, that demon muse of self-abuse!  With me as always is my Flaming-Skull-on-a-Stick Companion, Burny!”

“Flee now before your genitals become haunted!”

“Oh, Burny.  You now it is too late for that.  Their genitals are already haunted.  Welcome readers to the latest tale of sex and terror.  You may notice that I am in color this week.  The bonds that separate the world of the mundane and the world of the supernaturally sexy becomes weaker the closer we get to Halloween.  Who knows? Next week I may be whispering right over your shoulder!”


“For the love of your mortal soul, wear pants next week!  If you don’t, she might be whispering to you from inside your demon penetrated ass!”

“Silence, Burny!  You don’t want to give away all of next week’s surprises, do you?  As for today’s surprise, I am offering a terrifying after dark special concerning a really bad boy who does something he really shouldn’t.  It is a story called, A Nightmare of Tits and Thighs.”

“You can’t show that story! It will be a bad example for young people everywhere!”

I certainly hope so, Burny.  I should note that all characters are of legal age of consent.  Demons prefer ripe fruit after all.”  

“Read on, mortal.”

~~~
The black envelope was in our mailbox.  I snatched it out as quickly as I could.  I thanked God that my mother hadn’t checked the mail yet.  It would have been the end of me.

I walked into my house and went straight to my room.  I didn’t close the door because that would have been too suspicious.  With my back to the door, I opened the letter.

Pictures tumbled out.  There were pictures of my cock wrapped in women’s panties.  There was a picture of my face kissing a black woman’s ass.  A picture fell to the ground that showed me naked in a swimming pool.

None of the pictures were real.  I had never done any of these things.  It wouldn’t matter to my mother.  These pictures would get me grounded, reported to the police or sent off to boarding school. I didn’t know how Mrs. Feen creates these pictures but I know what they were.  They were blackmail.  She was summoning me to her house.

I tucked the envelope under my mattress.  I couldn’t destroy them.  That was against the rules.

The waiting was the hardest part.  At dinner I tried not to think of open thighs waiting for me.  When the family watched television, I tried not to think of soft abundant tits bigger than my head.  When I went to bed to pretend to sleep, my cock betrayed my intentions with the tent it formed. 

My mother went to bed first.  My father went an hour later.  The house was quiet except for the pounding of my heart.  I still had to wait an hour before midnight rolled around.  I was in no danger of falling asleep.

I slipped out of bed as quiet as a criminal.  I put on my pants and shirt but I skipped the shoes.  I fear that shoes would make too much noise.  I took the black envelope though.  The dirty pictures were my ticket.  In total darkness I left my home and locked the door behind me.  

The street was so quiet at night.  Until you have walked bare foot down a street in the middle of the night, you have no idea how still it is.  Only sinners walked this hour. 

The sidewalk pricked at my feet.  Tiny concrete bites nibbled at callused feet that have walked this way far too many times. 

Mrs. Feen lived in the house at the end of the street.  The door was unlocked.  Anyone could have walked into her house.  I stepped in and closed the door behind me.  My fingers ached to lock the door behind me but I didn’t.  I have learned the rules and I have learned the punishments.

Candle light guided me.  Flickering candles led me down the hallway.  Pictures of Mrs. Feen, her husband and their son stare down at me.  A dropped pair of panties told me which room to stop at. 

Mrs. Feen was in the dining room.  She was on the table.  Black heels made scuff marks on the dining room table.  Her legs formed a canyon wrapped in fishnet stockings.  I could see the rising mounds of her lace bra but I couldn’t see her face.  All I could see is the hairy forest of her pubic hair waiting for me.

“Come,” she whispered. 

I went to the table.  My bare feet walked across the cold floor.  I dropped the black envelope beside her and she reached for it.  She laughed as she examined the pictures.

“Please me,” Mrs. Feen whispered.

I reached across the table.  My feet were still on the floor as I leaned across the table. I reached past the shiny black heels that guarded the canyon of her fishnet covered thighs which led to the forest of her pussy.  My fingers pushed into the damp hair and past the waiting lips.  Heat engulfed my fingers.

I thought of the pussies that I have never touched.  I thought of my crush, Megan, and what she would feel like.  I thought of my Chemistry teacher, Ms. Brindle, and whether she was as hairy as Mrs. Feen.  I thought of my ex-girlfriend, Emily, and the pussy that I never saw but my friend Andy has.  All of their pussies were unknown to me but the pussy I was stroking that night was the most frightening of them all.

“Do it,” Mrs. Feen whispered.

My mouth joined my fingers.  The scent of her bush made me delirious.  I licked past damp hair and open lips into an endless spring of tang and sweat. 

I hesitated.  I had been here before.  I knew what lied ahead.

Mrs. Feen put her hand on my head and pushed.  I opened my mouth and dropped into the forest of her pussy.  I snorted like a pig as my desire to consume her pussy overwhelmed my need to breathe.

The canyons of her legs closed around me.  I was trapped in the net of her stockings and I would never be free.  Sharp heels stabbed and pinned my body to the table.  It was too late to turn back.  There was no more escape for this poor dirty boy.

Mrs. Feen moaned and her moans shook my body down to my trembling cock.

I held on and licked.  I ate her pussy and lost myself between a woman’s thighs.  My stomach hurt from where I was bent over the table but it didn’t matter.  My neck hurt from the angle that I was licking from but it didn’t matter.  My head hurt from her crushing thighs but it didn’t matter.  I was eating Mrs. Feen’s pussy and she would never release me until I pleased her.

“Faster my naughty boy,” Mrs. Feen moaned.  “Use that wicked tongue like I taught you.”

I flattened my tongue against her pussy and licked faster.  Her hips fucked my face and sealed her tangy pussy against my nose.  My air was be cut off until her hips moved to another position.  I tried to move just an inch to let my nose breathe but the inescapable trap of her thighs would not let me go.  

This was so wrong.  Boys my age shouldn’t have been licking the wicked pussies of such a wicked woman.  My cock shouldn’t have been so damn hard in my pants.  My balls shouldn’t have been aching for release the moment I saw that black envelope.  I shouldn’t have been so damn happy to be trapped between her thighs again.

I licked and I knew despair.  I licked and I knew guilty joy unimaginable.  I licked and I knew shame.  I licked and I knew the thrill of fear. 

I became lost in the forest of her pussy and I feared that I would never find my way home.

So I licked.  I burrowed into the thick hair and I ate the most forbidden of pleasures.  I drank the pleasure of a woman that was too old for me.  I learned the secrets of womanhood while she writhed and twisted beneath me.

I drowned.  I struggled to breathe but I never stopped licking.  My hands clutched at the fishnet walls but they refuse to open.  I never stopped licking as the juices of her pussy filled my mouth.  This is how I would die.

The canyons parted.  I could breathe again.

Mrs. Feen rose on her elbows.  I could see her face now but I was looking at her chest.  Her breasts jiggled within her lace bra.  The thin lace accented instead of hiding her dark hard nipples.  A moan spilled from my soaked lips.

“You can leave,” she said.  “You can leave right now and I will never call on you again.”

I stayed between her thighs.  My hard cock ached with frustration.

“Or you can use me,” Mrs. Feen said.  “And you will owe me and I will call on you again.”

I whimpered.  I could be free.  I would never see another black envelope.  I could return to my life.  I could go back to school and masturbating alone in my bed.  It would be an end to this nightmare of tits and thighs.    

But I was young and she was not.  It was never really much of a choice.

I pulled off my pants and underwear.  She laughed as I scampered on top of her.  The table groaned under my weight but I knew from many nights that it would hold us both.  I pulled out a breast from her bra. The flimsy material gave up her treasure so easily. I palmed her breast and squeezed.   My fingers trembled around the breast of a woman.  It seemed silly that I ever lusted for the small fruit of women my age.  This was a real breast; watered with the lust of many lovers and nurtured from a hundred hands.   

My mouth sucked on her nipple.  My face nuzzled against softness unimaginable.  My fingers pulled and squeezed and grabbed and fondled and pushed and twisted. 

Mrs. Feen moaned and whispered terrible things.  She whispered about my cock in her ass.  She whispered about the mailman’s balls in her mouth.  She whispered about my father’s cock under her heels.  They were terrible things that I did not want to hear and I memorized every word.

“What do you want?” Mrs. Feen asked. 

“I want to fuck your tits,” I said.

Mrs. Feen laughed.  When she laughed it was like every woman in the world laughed with her.  My weakness was known to my crushes, known to my teachers and known to my mother.   

“Do it,” she whispered.

I burned with shame but I didn’t care.  My young cock was so hard that I was afraid that I was going to spurt before it touched her tits. 

Mrs. Feen laid back.  Her bra was already off in some mysterious manner known only to women.  I straddled her chest and she spat into her hands.  She rubbed her spit onto my cock until it shined as much as my wet face.  She squeezed her tits together and I thrusted between them.

There was so much heat.  It was so slippery and smooth. 

Her pussy would have been wetter, her mouth would have been softer, her ass would have been tighter but none of those were her as glorious as her breasts

I fucked Mrs. Feen’s tits.  The spit dried quickly and the friction of our fucking grew hotter.  While she pressed her breasts together, I reached down and groped the hard nipples.  She fucked my cock and I fucked her tits.  The head of my cock emerged from her tits only to be swallowed back up by her bountiful breasts.

She looked up at me as I fucked.  I was on top of her but she was in control of me.  Red lipstick gleamed on smiling lips.  Her eyes looked up at me with the smug knowledge that I was her possession. 

“Come,” she whispered.  “Come, you filthy sinner.  Come, you dirty boy.  Come like I know you want to.”

I wanted to come so bad.  Sitting on her chest with my cock between her tits, I felt like I was on top of the world.  I could pretend that I was the one in control.  I could fantasize that it was my choice to sneak out of the house.  As my slick cock slipped in and out of her tits, I could make believe that I was not her slave.

There was a noise upstairs.  Someone closed a door.  Terror gripped me and I froze in mid thrust. 

“Keep fucking,” Mrs. Feen commanded.

I obeyed.  I was terrified but I kept fucking.  I feared that Mr. Feen would come downstairs and find us.  I imagined his rage as he found me balls deep in his wife’s tits.  I imagined him telling my parents.  I pictured the entire school knowing what I did late at night.

I fucked faster.  I fucked knowing it might be my last time between her tits.  Mrs. Feen squeezed her tits tighter around my cock.  A cruel smile spread across her lips.  It was if she didn’t care if we were discovered or not.  She just wanted to see if I got off first.

I did.  My cock confessed all of my sins between her wicked tits.  Streams of sin shot from my cock and desecrated her chest.  A terrible release came over me and I felt a moment of peace.  I didn’t care if I was caught anymore; I had came and it was awesome.

Mrs. Feen let go of her breasts and released my cock.  Spit and seed stuck to my cock.  I rolled off the table and felt my soul slam back into my body.  The world crept back into my reality.  The footsteps upstairs seemed louder.  A toilet flushed.

“Go,” she said.  She wiped a line of my seed off her chest and put it in her mouth.  She sucked her finger nosily in the dark dining room.

I rolled off the table and grabbed my pants.  My cock was already becoming hard again.  My drained cock was sensitive inside my pants.

I followed the candles in the hallway back to the door.  I heard what sounded like a creak of a stair from down the hallway.  I rushed out the door.

Outside, I hurried down the walkway to the side of the road.  The stones of the walkway accused my bare feet of crimes I had done.  My watch said it was almost one o’clock.  My parents should still be asleep. 

When I reached the road, I saw someone across the street.  I froze and debated what to do.  It looked like my friend, Kenneth.  I had been caught!

Kenneth pretended to tie his shoes.  He was wearing flip flops.  I turned towards my house and walked as fast as I could.  Maybe he didn’t recognize me.

When I looked behind me, I saw Kenneth walk up to Mrs. Feen’s house.  He carried a black envelope in his hands.

~~~
“My, my, so many questions are unanswered!  How does Mrs. Feen produce that blackmail evidence?  Does Mr. Feen know what goes on downstairs?  Just how many people are trapped in this blackmail orgy?”

“Perhaps the uncertainty of the answers is to recreate the illogical reasoning found in nightmares? Or perhaps it is symptomatic of how sexual newbies are often frightened and confused by their first sexual relationships?

“That is quite possible, Burny!  I knew condemning the soul of an erotica critic and mounting his tormented head on a stick was good for something!”

“That is all I have to show you this time, mortals.  Join us next week for another guilty pleasure.  I’ll catch your souls, later.”

  4 Responses to “Fiction: A Nightmare of Tits and Thighs”

  1. You’re a bad mad Shon Richards. A very very bad man. And we thank you for it.

  2. Man not mad. Grrrrrr!!!! Curse this phone.

  3. Oh, yummy and evil. I like her a lot. And I love the corruption.

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