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.