tagNonHumanSweet Demon

Sweet Demon

byWetBlackLace©

Autumn is a sensual time. Intense colors, moody skies, a sudden cold that makes you long for another warm body in your bed. Sometimes I walk alone in the evening, in the dark. The wind is cool and its touch through my hair, over my skin, makes me feel alive, aware of my own body. Moving through the dark streets, I wrap my arms around myself out of cold and a slight sense of fear. The dried leaves, lifted by the wind, sound like footsteps behind me. Turning to look, I see nothing but shadows. "It's only your imagination," I tell myself, "There's no one there." Deep down, I know that I am wrong. There is someone there, with me, on the streets, in my room. They are watching and waiting, sensing what I feel. They know what I need.

At night I lie alone in my bed covered only by moonlight and twisted sheets. Restless, I wake from dreams of half-remembered pleasure, aching for release. I feel teased, almost tortured, from desire. Sliding my hands down my over my body, I lift my black camisole to my breasts. They feel moist and swollen, the nipples hard, as if someone had just taken their mouth away. Cupping them in my hands, anxious to regain the feeling, I slide my thumbs slowly over the nipples, making them even more sharp and hard. Needing the intensity that I remember from my dreams, I then pull and pinch them, imagining a man's hot, greedy lips and sharp teeth.

The ache moves deeper. Needing more, I slide my hands down, over my moist body, between my legs, to my inner thighs. Running my hands there, aware of the softness and the need to grip a man, pull him, into my body. My fingers slip to the lace of my panties, still damp from the dark thoughts of my dreams. I imagine a man there, between my thighs. I want him as he wants me, wants my pussy, to taste and bury his mouth there. The thought causes me to press my fingers, hard, into the lace, pushing it into me. I rub the rough material over my clit and into myself, again and again, imagining it to be the pressure of a hot wet mouth. Then, pulling the damp lace into a narrow strip of biting string, I spread my legs further, opening the wet lips of my pussy to its rough feel.

The lacey, stretched material slides into and bites the tender flesh between my ass and pussy. Twisting my wrist, I pull it hard over my clit, the pressure causing me to lift my hips in pleasure and a sweet aching need. I can hear and am excited by the sound of my own wetness, dripping from the black lace. I am lost in pleasure, aware of only the need and feelings of my body. There seems to be nothing in the world except wetness and heat, pressure and deep intense pleasure.

Suddenly the pleasure turns sharp, almost painful. I open my eyes to the moonlight room and an awareness of a presence, another's weight upon the bed. Holding my breath, too afraid to scream, I slowly look down, between my spread thighs. He was there. I knew I had felt him with me, seen him before, in my dreams. I had known his dark hair and eyes, cheekbones like the blade of knife, his cruel mouth. That mouth was pressed into me now, my clit between his teeth.

I try to lift and pull myself away from him. He only tightens his grip on my clit and laughs, deep and throaty. I can feel that laugh, his hot breath, against my skin, inside of me. It seems to penetrate my pussy, spread open for him, to his eyes and mouth. He grips my arms beneath me and manages to pull my legs further apart, his strong shoulders pinning me to the bed. I am completely open to him, for him. He removes his grip on my clit and with his dark eyes on my face, buries his mouth in my wet cunt.

There is nothing then except his lips and tongue and teeth. Pinned to the bed by his strength, I am at the mercy of his mouth. He is tender. He is cruel. He licks me long and gently and then bites into me like a starving man. He pushes his tongue so deep within me that I feel he will enter my womb. He then attacks my clit again, sucking it deep into his mouth, only to let it feel the threat of his teeth. It is a kind of sweet torture, extremes of pleasure and pain. I ache to come and when I am about to, he suddenly stops, letting me feel only his hot breath against me. Lowering his mouth to me again, he starts another assault on my cunt. I whimper and twist against his lips. Lifting my hips, my pussy, to him, in surrender, I cry out and come hard on his dripping mouth.

His face still buried against me, he laughs softly again and whispers "Tomorrow night you are mine." Then he is gone.

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