Brian groaned as he slid forward, bottoming out against his wife's cervix. Faith's tongue laved back and forth between his cock root and Susan's clit. One of her fingers wormed its way inside his asshole and was quickly joined by a second, the two of them prodding him like a spur.
His cock felt weighty and cumbersome and the lack of sensation made it seem as if he were trying to have sex using a dildo filled with wet sand. He grabbed Susan's hips for support and began fucking her with long, rhythmic strokes. She buried her face in the bedclothes, grunting in time with each thrust.
"Oh, yeah," Faith urged. "Fuck her with that big cock." She edged her way out from under him and withdrew her fingers. She slapped him again, harder this time, first one cheek and then the other. As if in sympathy from the sting of her palm, his cock head began to tingle. She seemed to sense this. "Not yet," she murmured. She pried his cheeks apart and covered his asshole with her mouth.
Her breath caressed his tender orifice like a warm summer's breeze and her tongue rode its wake, squirming past his loosened sphincter and boldly excavating his dark tunnel. At her touch, a current of energy surged through him, triggering the familiar rumblings of an impending orgasm. In moments, his balls churned and the semen boiled up his shaft like a flow of super-heated lava towards the mouth of a volcano.
Brian screamed as he came, the eruption so exquisitely sharp that the line between pain and pleasure lost all meaning. He closed his eyes but in his mind he kept seeing the stroke of the butcher knife, slicing him over and over, and each spurt of semen into his wife's womb felt like a bloodletting. Time and space seemed to contract and expand with each beat of his heart and after a few seconds (or was it an hour?) he found himself floating weightless in the air. Before he had time to consider the idea, he hit the floor hard enough to take his breath away.
He coughed and choked, struggling to get air into his lungs. He realized, vaguely, that he'd tumbled off the bed onto the floor. How, he wasn't sure. He opened his eyes to see Faith on her knees, leaning over him. He tried to get up and felt the butcher knife hard against his throat.
"You really should have left her in the graveyard, Brian." She smiled ruefully. "This could have been so much easier." He felt her hand on his cock, stroking him. "I'd have been happy to do this all night." She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Hell, I'd have been happy to do this for the rest of your life." She sighed.
"Too late, now." She sat up and inspected her handiwork. "Well, it's not perfect, but it will have to do." She started to shift her weight and then stopped, looking at him. "Please don't make any sudden moves. We both know how sharp this is and I'd hate for my hand to slip."
She raised her leg and straddled his waist, hovering just above his semi-hard cock. She went to her knees and, holding him erect, slowly impaled herself. She sighed again, louder this time. "I'd almost forgotten how good that felt." Her hips began to rotate back and forth, the walls of her pussy milking him. She shook her head. "If only you hadn't gone out to look at the car. What is it with men and cars, anyway? From what Susan told me, men would rather work on their cars than fuck. What's up with that?"
Brian found his voice. "I told you I couldn't just leave her out there." He couldn't read her expression. "It'll be dawn soon. What are you going to do?"
"Oh, that." She leaned closer to him and began rubbing her clit against his pubic hair. "Susan and I had a little heart to heart talk while you were in the closet and we came to an agreement. You know, something she wanted for something I needed. Mainly blood. Her blood, originally, but then, after we talked, she said I could have yours instead. Imagine that." She rubbed her clit harder. "Still glad you brought her back?
"And what if I told you," she continued, her voice a little husky, "that yours wasn't the only deposit left in her little glove box tonight?"
Brian was still trying to get used to Susan selling him out over a baby. The confirmation of her suspected affair didn't seem, under the circumstances, to matter much. Was this what they had come to? If he couldn't give her a baby, he might as well be dead?
"It's funny, the choices people make when they come face to face with death, isn't it?"
He nodded; then he thought of something else. "If you use my blood, won't you turn into me?"
Faith laughed. "Interesting thought, but no, for better or worse, this is my body now. However, there is still a payment due or I don't get to keep it." She arched her back, shuddering. Her breath started to come in short gasps. "Oh, yes! That's it!" Her legs began to spasm and her eyes seemed to roll into the back of her head. For a moment Brian thought she might lose control of the knife and slit his throat then and there.
He closed his eyes and waited, poised for the slash that would separate his soft skin like so much Swiss cheese, draining him of the only thing he had left to give, the only thing of his that seemed to have any worth. When nothing happened, he opened his eyes to find her watching him thoughtfully. She lifted the knife from his throat and got to her feet.
"Get up." She extended her hand.
He stared at her, dumbfounded. "What are you doing?"
"Giving you a choice."
As the dawn came up, the two of them rutted like animals in the snow bank. Afterwards, they lay nestled in their jackets, watching the first rays of the sun peek over the headstones. Brian welcomed the sun in silence, marveling at how different the family plot looked in the daylight. Come Spring, he mused, this place will be beautiful. And once again hidden from prying eyes.
Faith stirred beside him, her arm stretching across his waist. "Warm," she murmured.
"Yes," he concurred, "and at this rate, the snow will be gone by midday. We should be going." She tightened her grip, burrowing her head into his jacket. Brian laughed. "Yeah, I know. Warm." He squirmed out of her grasp and scrambled to his feet. "Come on. You'll be even warmer after a hot shower."
"Oooooooh," She stood, brushing herself off. "I haven't taken a shower yet. I can't wait."
He watched her as she turned around, getting her first good look at the woods surrounding them. So much like Susan, he thought, and yet...not. Was she still changing, he wondered?
"What are you thinking?" he asked her.
She faced him, her eyes bright. "I'm glad to be alive." She made it sound simple. "You?"
"The same, I guess." He hesitated. "You didn't have to, you know."
"I guess – I guess before we went any further, I just wanted to say thank you."
She kissed him lightly on the lips. "You already thanked me." Her hand cupped his crotch. "And unless I'm mistaken, you're going to thank me again, very soon."
"If you keep that up, soon will be right now."
She patted him gently. "Well, we can't have that. We might disturb our guest."
Brian walked to the freshly dug grave. "Do you think we buried him deep enough?"
"I wouldn't worry about it." She shrugged. "My family will make sure he's not disturbed."
"Your family?" Brian glanced at the headstones. "Say, you don't think they minded when we..."
Faith wrapped her arms around him. "No."
"That's a relief. I'd hate to think I'd pissed off my future, or past...what am I to him, anyway?"
"Let's just say it's all relative and leave it at that. Come on. Susan will be wondering what happened."
He stopped. "Do you think she'll miss him?" He'd been tiptoeing around the question in his mind since they'd left the house. "Do you think I should be there instead of him?"
"No." She faced him squarely. "Susan got what she wanted. She didn't care anything about him." She took his hand and started walking up the trail. As they passed the grave he heard a distinct noise.
He slipped his arm around her waist. "Do you have any experience with the afterlife?"
"Some," she admitted.
A snapping noise, like the sound a rotting pumpkin makes when it's dropped. "So, just where do adulterous used car salesmen end up, anyway?"
"Do you really want to know?"
Or the sound a shovel makes when it smashes pearly white teeth. "Not if they don't come back."
Faith hugged him as they walked and he winced. In her passion she'd raked his back with her nails and he knew some of them were deep. But that was okay. Faith had been right about that all along. Sometimes, to get what you want, you have to be willing to shed some blood.