"A man is never alone with a woman except that Satan is the third." (Al-Tirmidhi)
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What is it you leave open at night that lets the demons in? Door, window, heart, imagination? Do they know when you've fallen asleep with your legs apart? Do they hear the whispering buzz of a vibrator, or see the swirl of fingers moving between your thighs and take it as an invitation? Do they know when you've been alone to the point of exhaustion or when you miss someone to the point of fantasy? Where does it start? How does it end?
...She pushes back from the keyboard and rearranges herself to sit on her left leg instead of her right. What should she tell him? She reaches for a glass of Cola and sips; surprised to find it flat and warm though she thinks it's only minutes since she poured it. She looks around her room at the photos of her family, the suitcases that she lives out of, and the piles of books, these few things that define who she is in real life, where she comes from, where she might go. Perhaps I should give up and go home? Back to the world of the sane, she thinks. She sees her landlady's cat asleep on the back of the couch; she sees her panties on the floor a few feet away from the desk. Her cheeks dimple as she smiles ...she took those off sometime in the last half-hour, typing with one hand and working them down past her hips, her knees with the other. Whose hand did she imagine it was, the one not doing the typing? She wraps herself around the hard grey plastic of the computer and begins typing.
Several hours later, she turns off the monitor and gets up slowly, shakily from the chair. Her legs are numb and tingling, and her back is a little achy from sitting there for so long. She smiles to herself as she turns on the light beside the unmade single bed then walks across the hall to the bathroom to get ready for sleep. She doesn't turn on the bathroom light for fear of what she'd see when she looks at herself in the mirror, she doesn't want to see the fatigue lines or the dark circles beneath her eyes. She takes the scrunchy out of her hair, letting the soft black weight of her hair fall to her shoulders. She quickly brushes it out feeling guilty that yet again she's too tired to wash it. I shouldn't be doing this, she thinks; it plays havoc with my life, but still it's always fun online with him. Her lower belly still seems to hum and throb. Yalah, it was nice.
In bed with the lights out and the curtains open, she looks out at the faint glow of streetlights on low cloud. She thinks, "I wonder who he really is? It's almost as if he knows me in the real world." She lies on her side, her hands under her head, knees drawn up, listening to the occasional traffic sounds and the distant whistling roar of aircraft swooping down through the clouds to land at the airport. She gets up and opens the window so that she can feel the early morning breeze. Slipping back into bed, she starts to fill in details, fleshing out her electronic mystery man. Height? Taller than me, broad shoulders, strong arms; definitely! Size? Mmmm... Batuta ni Drakula? Heeheehee.... Ohh yesss yesss yesss... make it a big one please!!! Hair? Short, dark, almost black but not on his face or chest. I want a smooth chest. Eyes? He should have two... She closes her own, smiling and starts trying to picture her cyber-kabit.
His eyes close to hers; they're deepest darkest brown, looking into her own eyes, his hand reaching out to caress her face. Her own hand reaches up to caress her face. Then it slides slowly down and comes to rest on her breast. And he's relatively normal, she thinks. He's not overweight, but he has mass and substance. He doesn't need to have washboard abs. Her hand skims down her torso, feeling her smooth soft belly through the thin fabric of her nightie. He has a long tongue. And he has long, delicate fingers like a piano player. She slips her own fingers between her legs and rolls over onto her hand, pressing down on it with her weight, then letting off. She can almost see him. He's strong and funny... He listens well. His lips are so soft... Again, she pushes her hips down onto her hand, forcing the bed to push her fingers back up and between her legs to the place where he is.
There he is! She rolls over wide-eyed, spellbound. In the quiet darkness, the line between waking fantasy and dream is erased, the border crossed. She falls asleep. The room is just light enough for her to see him come in through the door. He's exactly as she had imagined he would be - big and hard-muscled, moving with the power and grace of a tiger. He walks slowly to the foot of the bed and starts to unbutton his shirt. She lies there, not moving, not sure if she's really asleep or just pretending sleep, but watching him, watching as he flings his shirt into the corner and unbuckles his belt. He steps out of his pants, pulls his boxers down past his thighs and kicks them off. She can't help herself. She takes in a deep breath of air and holds it, waiting, waiting as he pulls back the sheet and crawls onto the bed.
She feels his naked legs brush against hers. And then his lips meet hers for the first time. Soft, just as she imagined. He strips the sheet from the bed with a single fluid movement. He settles onto the bed, slides onto her like a shadow. Willingly, she reaches sleepy hands to touch his head and to run fingers through places where he should have hair. He bends lower, his hard and angular face close now to her ear. "I have come for you, Mahal," he whispers. Then he kisses her hard on the mouth, his hot breath washing over her face like melted wax, reeking of smoke and sulphur. "Dream on, dream on, anak ng puta;" he whispers, suddenly biting her lip, pulling at it with his sharp teeth. Eyes closed, she smiles and licks her lips. The demon smiles, licks his own lips, and extends his long black tongue to touch hers. She opens her mouth wider. Their tongues swirl around each other, then retreat and meet tip to tip. He's breathing faster, his breath warm and smelling of ilang-ilang. Now he's licking the corners of her mouth, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth just a little with each kiss. "How does he know I love that?" she thinks to herself. She runs her fingers through his hair and pulls his head toward her. He's propped up on one arm, sitting beside her and leaning over, kissing her. His one free hand caresses her right cheek, then slides around to touch her ear, the back of her neck. Her lower belly begins to tickle, then throb. Their lips part and they pull back enough to look into each others eyes. "His eyes look amber," she thinks, but maybe it's the light. Both sets of eyes are wide open, pupils expanded, dark as sin. "I want you, whatever your name is," she thinks, her eyes staring straight into his. And, almost as if to answer, he pulls back to sit upright. He takes her hands and pulls her up beside him. Then, still staring into her eyes, he takes the bottom of her nightie with both hands and lifts it off over her head. The cool air hits her skin. Her nipples, already standing out, grow even harder. And then he leans down and takes one into his mouth. She moans, holding his head to her breast. Throbbing warmth spreads from his mouth on her nipple, to her whole breast, her chest. Ay_aaaah, she sighs.
Gentle, so gentle the touches of his hand sliding down her side, down the outside of her leg, her knee, her calf then back up again, smooth pads of his fingertips brushing over her skin. His other hand holds her breast to his mouth, where his tongue is slippily circling her nipple slowly, slowly then a rapid flutter and back to slow circling. Up comes the other hand, up her leg, her side, sliding over her other breast to her neck, fingers tracing her hairline, thumb rubbing her earlobe then back down, down over her shoulder, her arm, back to her side, thigh. Circle, circle, flick! She finds it hard to concentrate on one sensation or the other: his tongue on her breast or his hand caressing her side, her leg, coming closer to where her thighs meet each time it makes the roundtrip. She closes her eyes and moans softly. She brings her hands up to run her fingers through his hair. Slight, very slight - it's the slightest, smallest of tiny pushes she gives his head, a hint that he immediately takes. He begins to kiss his way from her breast down her tummy.
They're open-mouthed kisses, his lips lightly trailing from spot to spot, then kissing with a lovely wet sound that seems to fill the room. His hands trail behind, first both on her breasts, then her ribs, then starting to slide onto her belly as the kisses reach lower, lower. Her breathing is much faster, and yet she holds her breath, waiting for it, waiting for his mouth to go just a few more inches. The bite leaves marks, little red spots on her pale skin. The demon kneels beside her, admiring his work almost as much as he admires the smoothness of her skin, the way her breasts curve down to her ribs, the way her ribs make way for the curl of her belly. He reaches out one hand and traces lines on her skin - faint scratches he makes with two or three clawed fingers, white then faint red. Slowly, very slowly he traces lines down the middle of her chest, starting at where he bit her, winding down her sternum to the top of her belly, down to her bellybutton. His fingers part slightly so that no claw goes into her bellybutton.
"So considerate..." he snarls to himself as his clawed fingers reach the bottom of her belly where the small patch of untrimmed hair begins. He circles one long claw, the one on the end of his index finger, in the silky hair, wrapping the hair around the claw, then pulling lightly to watch it unwind. He does this three times before he turns his hand and with an almost loving sneer jams his hand between her legs. She gasps, till asleep but then rolls her head to the side, again dreaming. The demon pulls his hand out and brings it to his face. He sniffs his wet fingers. He tastes her, licking her juices off his hand. Then, without pause or threat or comment, he quickly moves to kneel between her legs. He reaches beneath her legs and hips until he can grab her sides tight with his hands and he picks her up. He picks her up as if she weighs nothing. One minute she is lying there, the next she's upside down legs flopping in the air over his shoulders, her head and arms hanging down onto the bed. He raises her higher until her head is no longer touching the bed, just her dangling arms. And then he buries his open mouth between her legs as if eating a mango.
She feels his warm breath on her and then the touch of his lips. She sighs, finally exhaling, as his soft lips nibble at her, his nose nuzzling gently in her hair. She spreads her legs more, opening herself to him as best she can. She's waiting for the tickling to become probing, for probing to become stroking, for stroking to become insistent and persistent and irresistible. And then... and then... Ai_eee! She throws her head back and breathes in sharply. His tongue. Hot, and all at once fat and slender, his tongue touches her lightly and works its way up to where her lips meet in a hard swollen knot. Then again, starting at the bottom and working its way up to the top of her, wider now, taking in more and more. Then again, this time hard and slender, driving deep into the creases, her quivering opening. One of her hands moves to his head, rubbing his head through his hair, trying not to grab or push his head down into her even though that's exactly what she wants and needs to do. He uses his hands to spread her legs wider, to spread her outer folds apart, exposing nothing but the pink and liquid heart of her. He sucks her lips into his mouth, lets them go, sucks them back into his mouth, lets them go, massaging them with his mouth. She is so close now that her body can't decide how to breathe. And when he draws her clit into his mouth, holds it there for his tongue to flick back and forth across, she goes over the top. He holds onto her thighs, pulling them in to hug his head, holding on as her body shudders and shakes. More and louder, more and louder... then less. As she slows, he slows, licking her down from wherever she was. Slower, slower, then stop. He rises up, upright but still kneeling between her legs, watching her head move back and forth on the sheet, trying to catch her breath. Finally, her eyes open again and she reaches out to him. Slowly, he bends over, putting his weight on his arms and lowering himself until they're belly to belly.
Something else soft and warm tickles her between her legs. He kisses her deeply and she tastes what must be her taste. "Please" she says and he slips inside her like joy. She cries out as his hot tongue enters her, his teeth tearing at her tender lips but she doesn't awaken, doesn't register pain, doesn't feel the blood rushing to her head as she hangs suspended in mid-air. The demon breathes through his mouth in a sort of in and out hiss. He can feel his breath, incredibly hot and dry, rushing over her skin, drying every drop and speck of her juices as soon as his tongue brings them out from deep inside her. He drives his tongue into her with every exhaling hiss, feels her walls try to grab at him, and then pulls back out as he breathes in again. He nibbles her clit with fangs as sharp as needles, but he draws no blood. Rather, he elicits a sudden climax, a screaming cry out to the walls and to God and to no one and everyone as her body hardens and relaxes, quivers and grows limp.
Smiling, he drops her back onto the bed. She lies crumpled, her head moving back and forth, smiling in memory of an orgasm she thinks she dreamed. And when she reaches out to him, still asleep, she doesn't see his dark wings spread out behind his back, billowing over the bed like a black cloud. He lowers himself onto her like a boulder and she hugs him to her as if he were truly a man.
So beautiful, she thinks as his face hovers above hers. They stare into each others eyes as he moves slowly into her, then back almost out, then back in. His eyes are large and his mouth curves into a smile. She reaches up to caress his face with her hand and he kisses her palm lightly. It's too delicious. She reaches both hands back around his sides to grasp his hard round rear. He lowers his head and kisses her in the hollow where her neck and shoulder meet. She pulls her knees up and spreads her legs wider so that he sinks even deeper into her. She breathes out, trying to relax and open herself more, but already she feels so full of him. When he starts to pull out again, she can't help put contract around him, trying to keep him there. And then he's pushing back in. This time she's so tight that she can feel the rim of the head as is slides from just inside her opening, deep, deeper until it disappears where there's more room. Now he moves his entire body farther up the bed, his head now past hers, his chest just above her face. Oh god, now he is sliding along the outside of her as he pulls out, the wet and slippery him moving along the wetter, slippery her all the way from her opening up to her stiff and humming clit.
Pushing down, sliding down as he pushes back inside her, deep and fast and hard, hitting the back walls of her insides and sending vibrations through her. She throws her feet around the backs of his legs and pulls him to her. Faster and harder, so full, so She hears his breathing catch and his pace change. He's close. And so am I. Again, again, hard and deep, back out and then again. He cries out and she feels his whole body stiffen above her. She feels a warm and liquid rush, deep inside her. And as she lets go, tries to feel the warmth spreading outward it overcomes her. Her back arches and she gasps, grabbing at him and letting go in rapid succession as he continues to move inside her, more slowly now. The warmth rises from her belly to her chest, her neck, until she feels her face turning red as if warmed by a fire. She smiles and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye.
Lost in her dream, she opens herself wide to the man who isn't there, allowing in the thing that is. The demon puts his arms beneath her legs as he moves down onto her, pushing her legs apart, pulling her legs up and out, her feet back over his shoulders, back over her own head. She's completely exposed, open and waiting. He hisses a sound like a radiator venting steam. His eyes flicker yellow and red.
If she could see him now, even in a dream, she would faint. And if she could see his cock, long and hard and just touching her now like a pillar of fire, she would scream. Seven inches, eight inches ten inches long it grows to as he slides the swollen red head of it along her wet lips. But the length isn't as scary as the thickness of it. As it grows longer, it grows thicker until it's as thick as her upper arm, the dark-red skin stretched so tight that it shines. He pushes the bulging knob inside her and she cries out, thrashing from side to side. Inch by inch, he slowly pushes farther in. Her mouth's open and she gasps lightly every time he slips more in, stretching her, filling her. And then he pulls out, just as slowly. She exhales in what would be considered a sigh only to cry out again as he pushes back into her, fast and hard, all the way. With that, he feels her surrender, give herself up to him, let go and open wide. And in letting go, he sees her find the flicker of her own fire, a spark deep inside that catches and starts to burn. She screams as her first climax overcomes her. Her arms hammer the mattress. Then another climax follows right behind the first, not as sharp but longer and deeper.
He grins to himself ...reaches behind his back to catch the thickness of a quivering muscular rat-like tail that swishes from side to side as he twists it until its tip touches her upturned ass. He fucks her, he rocks her gently to 'n' fro, angling her hips up to one side with each slow deep thrust as he gently rubs the smooth slick end of his tail in small insistent circles against her anus. His haunches thrust harder, faster, and as hers rise to welcome him, he plunges it deep into her ass. She gasps and writhes as he fucks her with long deep strokes, his clenched fist thrusting the tail up her ass, sodomising her in perfect counterpoint to the surging thickness of cock pounding her cunt. Quivering helpless in the blinding radiance of an orgasm that promises to last beyond eternity, she grabs her breasts with both hands and pinches her nipples hard, just to remind her body to breathe.
Suddenly, his wings extend to their full width darkening the bedroom as he pulls himself up, arching his back and growling low as he pumps her harder and deeper, harder and harder. And then... As she hovers on the very edge of death from sensual delight... He looks down at her and feels ...for the first time in centuries... he feels passion... desire.
...Desire? ...shaken, unnerved, he comes, filling her with his hot jism. It jets from him, in an unending stream, more and more, until her legs are covered, until the bed is dark and slick with it. Then, he sighs, suddenly desolate that he can't take her with him -- not this time anyway. A shaft of moonlight falls upon the bed... and it is over; he is gone without so much as a curse.
Her breathing returns to normal, the room grows still and quiet. She clutches the wet sheet to her breasts as the chill pre-dawn air wafting in through the open window gives her goosebumps. The cat returns to the bedroom. Everything is as it was, if one can trust appearances.