His frame completely blocked the hot water from her.
The only droplets of water that had touched her since she switched places with
him after quickly washing her hair were the ones that bounced off his broad
shoulders as he stood under the water and washed his own.
She squeezed a dollop of liquid soap on her shower puff and
extended it around him to wet it under the running shower. He was
beautiful. His head was back as he rinsed his long hair behind him, his
hands on his head massaging away the last remnants of lather from the shampoo.
With his arms back, his chest opened wide showing off how incredibly well built
he was. The tattoos that adorned most of his upper torso, covering
his chest and arms read as their own storyboard of pain and torture. The art
itself almost seemed to come to life above his rippling muscles as he
moved. Carrie had no idea of their meaning. Her love of horror was
something that she visited on occasion, she didn't live there....she didn't
research or explore the origins of the demons that were prominent in the books
she read, so she didn't have names for the homogenous beasts displayed in
explicit detail, their penises huge and hard, blood dripping from their razor
sharp fangs and claws onto the naked flesh of the buxom beauties sprawled under
them nor for the symbols that all of which were carved beautifully on his skin.
Carolynn Fox, more commonly just Carrie, wasn’t one to scare
easily....well, probably because she didn’t believe in any of it....She believed
in the Devil about as much as she believe in God which was not at all.
She wasn’t a follower of any traditional faith.
Her belief system was directly related to her experiences. Carrie did believe in a higher power, though….her
own theory of a God and Devil wrapped into one.
Though she believed this higher power was one of mankind’s creation and not
as most believed the other way around. This higher power is a source of
spiritual energy, positive and negative, collected from every living soul on
earth....a collective soul, so to speak. We feed this collective soul
with our spirit everyday....it swallows the energy we give it, combines it with
the energy it's collected from all those around us and spits it back at us,
more powerful and righteous in its praise or its vengeance, depending of course
on what we've fed it.
Carrie also believed that energy was fed by many black souls.
The kind of souls that found righteousness in murder, torture, rape and
destruction. The ones that beat their
children and wives because that was the only way they know to exert the control
they felt they must possess at every given moment. No, Carrie didn’t
believe the monsters we faced were hell spawn demons....she believed them to be
human... perhaps lost in their own despair (who knows what kind of hell their
life had been) or in their own madness (having surpassed their own breaking
point). Movies and books didn’t scare Carrie....real life did.
Every once in a while, though, Carrie would come across an author
or film maker that would pull her in so deep that while she was a victim of
their disturbed imaginations, caught in the painful and terrifying images they
projected upon her mind, she would wonder if it might be possible that sometimes
there is a low evil voice that whispers in the ears of those black souls,
issuing instructions.
C William Giles was one of those authors. The erotic horror he wrote was deliciously
scary and sexy as hell. Carrie had been acquainted with Craig (the
C in C William Giles) for a couple of years but this was the first time they had
physically met. They became fast friends
online after she had read his first book and reached out to him. His books
were dark and spoke of the evil forces that lay in wait for the weakness of man
to show itself. Waiting for him to desperately offer his skills to promote evil
in exchange for rewards that would eventually hold him hostage. Oh yeah,
and the sex scenes were kinky and graphic....fucking hot as hell! She
loved it and had to tell him so. She had also sent him a link to her own
writing. Very graphic erotic short
stories. He apparently appreciated her
skills as well.
He was exactly the type at Carrie always went for. He
was a big man and he had a heavy metal style that was so fucking rock and
roll. From his long hair to the goatee expertly shaped on his face.
From the silver rings on his fingers to the tattoos running up his arms.
He dressed completely in black in every picture she’d seen of him.
Yes...he was definitely her type but she was surprised he paid much attention
to her at all. No, Carrie didn’t have any self-conscious issues.
Even at her age, now in her late forties, she still turned heads when she
entered into a room. Her slim figure rests upon a very petite frame so
she’d often wear anything from 3" to 5" inch heels to add to her
stature. She was especially fond of stilettos. Long blonde
hair and delicate features had made many people (men and women alike) comment
on her resemblance to the very beautiful actress, Kim Basinger. She couldn’t see it herself, but it had been
said enough times that she figured there must be something to it...and she had
to admit, it was a very lovely compliment.
She was also intelligent and a talented writer in her own right.
So, no, it wasn't that she felt unattractive or
unworthy. She just understood that she wasn't the type he normally went
for. He made no secret of how turned on he was by brunettes and natural
red heads. He openly admitted it...hell, they were friends that lived an
ocean apart. There seemed to be no
danger in being honest with each other....and his taste was also evident in his
books. The brunette and redheaded characters were always sexy and smart,
the blondes though attractive were often bubbleheads.
Not that he had ever made Carrie feel that he thought of her
as a bubblehead. He seemed to genuinely
respect her as a music lover and fellow writer. Regardless of all that
though, it didn’t escape Carrie’s attention that his type was metal and
leather, tall and exotic....not the blonde blue jean baby that she was.
So, yeah, despite their friendship (a limited friendship at best), it did
surprised her that amid the throng of goth girls at the book signing with their
raven black or brilliant red hair, their noses, lips and eyebrows pierced and
tattoos visible on their arms and necks, that he had cornered her and invited
her to dinner. The young women at the book signing maybe didn't exactly
resemble the beauties described in his books but she figured they probably came
way closer than her just through their own personal style.
The book signing tour was to promote his third book which was
hugely popular at his home in the UK as well as in America. It was hitting the top ten of the most
popular recommended reading lists for horror all over the world. When
Carrie learned that his book signing tour would bring him through the city, she
was determined she would not miss the opportunity to meet him in person.
They had often talked online….well, texted and emailed, they had never actually
spoken. Despite the physical distance between
them, they had discovered a shared passion for horror, metal music and
sex. Especially sex…..their
conversations were often full of graphic descriptions of exactly what they
wanted to do with one another's naked bodies.
They shared three bottles of wine as they talked over
dinner. He was living her dream. He was finally able to give up his
day job and live his life as a writer. The sudden success of his third
book had launched sales on his previous two and now he had financial
freedom to quit his job and devote all his time and energy to his craft. Perhaps
it was the wine, perhaps it was all the sex filled fantasies they’d shared, or
perhaps it was just sitting across from someone who was successful, sexy and
intelligent, that Carrie found her temperature going up and her mind distracted
from the conversation by more feral, primitive thoughts.
She watched his lips move but had no concept of what he was
saying as her arm reached under the table, her fingertips lightly running up
the thigh of his jeans. She could feel the heat and power of his muscles
radiating and penetrating through her fingertips. Her mind hopelessly
lost to the thought of riding that power conjured an image of gripping his hips
between her knees as he lay under her that was so vivid, she imagined she could
actually feel his cock inside her. She gasped, startled when he grasped
and squeezed her hand, his voice breaking through her reverie to ask with a
smile in his eyes, "Would you like to get out of here?"
"Er, yes," her answer came out soft and
breathless. Once outside, the fresh
night air helped sober her somewhat and she hailed a cab and gave the driver
her home address. She led him into her
modest apartment and closed and locked the door behind them. Before
turning on the light, she encircled her arms around his neck, pulling his face
down to hers. He came willingly, his
arms enveloping her waist, wrapping her
in the heat of his body. His head bent
down to kiss her lips gently at first, then with pronounced urgency, his tongue
forcing her lips and teeth apart to plunge into her hot and waiting
mouth. She pressed her body into his, her thigh slipping around his hip,
her hands moving over his chest and arms.
Her stiletto rested against his calf as she started to gyrate against
him. Her hands moved to his belt,
pulling at it and the buttons of his pants, wanting to feel his cock in her
hand. He gripped her arms forcefully and
pushed her away. They both struggled to catch their breath as he held her
at arms-length.
"I'd like to have a shower first, luv, if you don't
mind," he said breathlessly. Hmmmm, a shower did sound lovely.
And so far it was lovely even though her skin was now slightly chilled from
standing out of the water. His physique was magnificent and she was giddy from
the prospect of what was still to come as she looked over his incredible
body. Her eyes lingered on his groin
before moving back to the sexually perverse beasts on his chest. Even they would be jealous of the package he
carried between his legs.
She closed her eyes to the graphic, horrific, yet somehow
beautiful scenes displayed on his skin and breathed in his scent. She could
smell the natural musk of his skin, though now it was sweetened further by the
fragrance of the shampoo.
He shifted in front of her and she felt his arm as it came
over her shoulder. She instinctively rose onto the tips of my toes as his
hand found her lower back and pulled her tight against his wet steaming skin.
She was substantially smaller than him, especially now without her heels... his
hand nearly spanned the entire width of her back and even though she was
standing on my tiptoes, her stomach pressed into his crotch as he held her
against him.
She felt his cock growing against the firmness of her belly
and her pussy responded immediately. She
spread her legs to straddle thigh, grinding her now pulsating pussy into his
thigh and stroking his ever growing cock with her hip as he bent his head and
covered her lips with his own.
She moaned in his mouth as one of his hands found her chest,
his fingers squeezing the soft yet firm flesh of her tit, his thumb brushing
over her erect nipple while his other hand moved down over her ass, his middle
finger sliding between her cheeks. His fingertip teased the tender,
sensitive flesh surrounding her anus before slipping inside.
His touch was expert and he sent shivers of desire up her
spine. She pressed her pelvis harder into his thigh and rocked her hips
against him. The grinding motion proved to slightly soothe the ache
building in her pussy, so she continued to slowly grind her pelvis against
him. Her shower puff, dropped and
forgotten on the shower floor, her hands on the back of his neck under his
hair, pulled his head down more forcefully on her own. Her mouth, hungry
and wet greedily tasted his lips and his tongue as the hot water of the shower
flowed over and between them.
His kisses weren’t sweet.
They were hot and biting and had a certain spice to them that left her
lips swollen and burning. She felt a
pull from deep in her belly and somehow knew through the fog of ecstasy and
pain she was feeling that she wasn’t in control anymore. She seemed to be existing on a plane made
purely of physical sensations…she was lost to all logical thought of
self-preservation and surrendered completely to the sensations that were being
played across her skin.
His taking of her was not gentle and though much of it was
very painful it was combined with an ecstasy she had never experienced before. Her body was his…to do with as he
pleased. So hypnotised she was with her
own banal desires and his ability to inspire powerful orgasms from her, she
gratefully succumbed to his every whim and with great pleasure offered her
flesh and blood to his teeth and nails.
