Devil's Night

She lies in bed, her mind feeling restless and anxious, suspended somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. The calmness of her partner only feeds her anxiety as her thoughts swirl with erotic fantasies. Like a lucid dream, her darker impulses dictate the scene.

As if her restless energy has filled the room, Bingus, her puppy, starts barking and jumping around in his crate. She nudges her partner to take him out, but he simply ignores her and stays asleep. She glances at the nightstand clock: 3:00 AM -- Oct 30.

Reluctantly, she gets up, lets Bingus out of his crate, and he bolts to the door, jumping to go outside. She throws on a long sweatshirt and a pair of shorts, grabs his leash, attaches it, and steps outside.

She walks him down the road alongside a dark stretch of woods. As they walk, he begins to pull. She tries to maintain her grip, but the leash slips from her hand, and Bingus sprints into the trees. Panicked, she chases after him, calling his name, but he keeps running.

They go deep enough into the woods that the road vanishes completely. It is too late to turn back. Up ahead, Bingus stops, barking at something in the shadows. As she gets closer, a massive manor appears through the mist. Bingus stands at the front door, barking until it slowly swings open.

"No!" she shouts, but he dashes inside.

Scared and nervous--but determined not to abandon him--she runs in after him. She follows the sound of Bingus eating, eventually finding her way into the kitchen. A large steak lies on the floor, and Bingus is eagerly chomping down on it.

She leans down to grab him, scolding under her breath, "What are you doing?! Where did you get this? We have to go!"

Suddenly, the front door slams shut.

Footsteps echo through the hall, heading toward the kitchen. Frozen in panic, she kneels on the floor holding her puppy while he carries on eating.

A man in a tailored white suit walks into the room, and the temperature immediately skyrockets. Where his pale soles press against the cold floor, he leaves behind glistening, damp footprints--slick with a feverish condensation that steams faintly in the chilly air, filling the room with the heavy, intoxicating scent of warm skin and musk.

"He has excellent taste," the man remarks.

Feeling terribly underdressed, she offers an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry. I'll pay you back."

He smiles down at her. "Shall we make a deal?"

"What kind of deal?" she asks nervously.

"Meat for meet."

She gazes at him, terrified, imagining he means the flesh off her bones. But before she can speak, an unseen force sweeps over her. She is forced down to her knees and slid directly in front of his pelvis, where a heavy bulge throbs through his trousers.

She tries to resist, but she remembers lying in bed just moments ago, fiending for this exact sensation.

She reaches out to unbuckle his belt, but he presses her hands down, instructing her sternly: "Rub it."

She shifts her hands to his thighs, then moves her right hand over the bulge. As she rubs, it grows firmer and hotter beneath the fabric. It builds--thicker and longer--until she has both hands working him over his trousers.

He traces her face with his hands, a single finger gliding across her lower lip. "These are going to feel so good," he purrs.

She opens her mouth, touching her tongue to the tip of his finger as she continues to stroke him through his pants.

"Take it out," he commands.

She unbuckles his belt and unzips his fly, releasing a thick pillar of heat and heavy veins. Without hesitation, she takes him into her mouth.

The touch of her lips and tongue against his skin floods her mind with her darkest fantasies--visions of being punished, of someone breaking in while her husband is away and forcing her to submit. Thoughts she usually felt ashamed of now bring an overwhelming sense of relief.

Her lips and tongue glide up and down his shaft, the taste intensifying her visions until the fantasy feels less like a dream and more like a memory. The sound of her breath and her intense focus fill the room, and the harder she works, the deeper he moans.

When she pulls back to catch her breath, her eyes lock with his.

"You look fucking hot working my cock," he says. He places his hands on her head, lightly scratching her scalp before gripping her hair to pull her back in, using her mouth for his pleasure. Sealed tightly against him, the total loss of control, the forbidden visions, and the sensation of him taking what he wants draw orgasmic moans from her throat.

He pulls back.

At the head of the kitchen table sits a grand oak chair. It slides behind him as he sits. "Crawl to me," he commands.

She leans down and slowly starts toward him. Halfway across the floor, he speaks again: "Take your shirt off."

Leaning back, she pulls the sweatshirt over her head. Her breasts drop free as she tosses the sweatshirt aside and continues to crawl, her chest swaying with each motion forward. Her eyes watch as he grabs himself and begins to stroke his shaft.

Getting close, she kisses his inner thigh, working her way inward from each side. While he continues to stroke himself, she begins kissing his scrotum, taking each ball into her mouth while swirling her tongue around them, her hands rubbing his bare legs. She pushes his thighs apart, then gathers his scrotum in her hand, bringing his testicles together to lick them with her whole tongue.

Reaching down, he replaces her hand with his own around his sack and uses his other hand to grip her hair, pushing her down while lifting his left leg.

"Put your tongue out," he says.

I shouldn't do this, she tells herself.

Reluctantly, she extends her tongue, and he pulls her in. She swirls her tongue around his warm rim, tickling across his skin. A short-lived wave of guilt hits her--realizing she wouldn't even do this for her husband--but the guilt is instantly consumed by an erotic takeover. She kisses him before pressing her tongue fully against him.

"Why is this making me so wet?" she gasps.

Gripping her hair, he pulls her back, drops his leg, and places her mouth directly over his tip, where a drop of precum rests.

"Mmm, it tastes delicious," she remarks. The taste drives her to work him harder.

"Look at me," he commands.

She looks up at him while continuing her rhythm.

"You're going to walk over to that table, drop your shorts, and lay back," he tells her.

Standing up, her breasts brush against him. He reaches out, cupping them, rolling her nipples between his fingers before giving them a light tap. Her chest jiggles at the impact.

"Continue," he says.

She walks over to the table and bends over. Pulls her shorts down exposing her bare cheeks. Her shorts slide down past her thighs all the way to the floor. She reaches back, spreading herself. Both her holes appear for a moment before disappearing between her cheeks. She turns and lies on the table.

He approaches and grabs her legs, holding them high in the air. Dripping with anticipation, she watches as he leans down. He kisses his way down her legs until he reaches her wet mound, his lips tracing around her sensitive skin. A clear stream leaks from her, dribbling between her cheeks as he uses his tongue to push it over her lips.

Stopping at her clit, he lightly tickles it, and the fluid flows thicker. He presses in with a moan that vibrates against her skin.

"Aah, it tastes and smells so fucking good," he mutters, his tongue exploring her lips and clit with the sensation of immense heat.

Her body fills with warmth and satisfaction as she begins to orgasm, her legs held firm in the air while his face remains buried in her. His vibrating moans and relentless tongue push her completely over the edge.

He pulls back, stands, and takes his wet, throbbing shaft to penetrate her. As he drives into her with a heavy, steady rhythm, she is completely overcome, feeling his warm pillar spread and fill her.

With every thrust, her raw energy feeds him. Her body lies exposed, her breasts bouncing with the impact. She rubs her own skin before reaching out to touch him. Holding her there and watching her reaction, he pushes deep, grinding against her. Her legs wrap around his waist as he reaches down and lifts her off the table.

Holding her in the air while continuing to thrust, he leans in to kiss and bite her neck. His hands hold her hips while hers grip his shoulders as he pounds away. Positioning himself against the table while they make out, he lies back onto the surface, letting her ride him.

She slides up and down his length, gripping him tightly. She strokes her breasts, belly, and thighs while he bucks beneath her. She pushes down, taking as much of him as she can while moving her hips back and forth. Leaning up, she lifts off him briefly before sitting back down onto his shaft, repeating the motion several times before leaning forward to kiss him.

Crawling forward over him, he sits up and turns around. She bends over, spreading herself for him.

"Come pound me," she says.

He lines up behind her and penetrates her once more, establishing a heavy, steady rhythm as he pushes deep into her.

He tries to maintain control, but her momentum becomes overwhelming. He loses his rhythm, and she begins pushing back against him--the balance of power shifting in an instant. He feels his own energy reflected back at him. Her energy feels supernatural, leaving him to wonder: Is she a succubus?

She drives back deeper and harder, slamming against him until both of them lose their grip on reality. He erupts inside her, filling every empty space within her.

Broken and spent, he collapses back onto the floor.

Taking her chance, she grabs Bingus's leash and walks out into the night. The path guides her straight back to the road, and they make their way home.

Worried that the night is gone, she glances at the clock as she steps into the bedroom. 3:00 AM. No time has passed at all.

She lies back down in bed, wondering if it was all a dream--until she feels the lingering warmth he left deep inside her. She hears his voice "The deal sealed by flesh is to meet again on Devil's night".