The Necromantrix

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A gothic tale of online sex.
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Necromantrix.cum I smiled at that ISP, or smirked, as we WWWs (Web Willy Wobblers) are wont do. Voyeurcam is a splendid way of having sex with lots of ladies without the bother of meeting them. My right hand is STD free. A credit card the wife doesn't know about and a box of tissues is all I need.

Just type in requests and away she goes. A slow striptease with all on show. Soothing hum of a vibrator set against her sighs and moans and convulsive shrieking. Maybe she's invited a girlfriend round to 69: my how her cunning lingers.

Then there are the specialist acts: mammary milkers, panty piddlers, spank and wankers – how red cheeks can blush -, even plate poopers. Not one for the dishwasher, hopefully. Always a novelty to excite a jaded Onan.

But necrophilia? Not for me, at least not until now. Except it was the .cum that aroused my fancy. Must be a typo surely. Only one way to find out though. Always click-off if it gets too nasty.

The room filling my screen was surprisingly sparse. Mirrored wardrobes running along the far wall and a single divan mid-shot: it was stripped apart from a fitted black silken sheet. Such a soft sheen in subdued lighting red enough for any knocking shop.

But where was she? The room was deserted. Mind, I hadn't been asked for any credit card details as yet so I could give it a few minutes. Not going to wait all night through. Then the bedroom door opened.

She was one of those gorgeous women of indeterminate age; young looking one moment, more mature the next. It didn't matter. I'd sprung to attention at the mere sight of her.

A red leather basque all but restrained the generous flesh of this BBW. That's all she wore apart from red patent shoes with assassin's heels. Red lighting, red leather and a cataract of hair black as a magpie's wing tumbling over her bare shoulders.

All emphasising how pale, almost pallid, was her exposed skin, with dark rings around her eyes (too much mascara surely?) and full yet strangely bloodless lips. Necromantrix! She was playing her part most convincingly.

It was then I noticed the bloke. He must have come in with her and by the leer on his face intended coming with her. I just hadn't noticed him at first. Jeans, T shirt and loafers; wouldn't take long to strip him down for action.

What did he look like? You know, I couldn't give a description if pressed by the police. Not even the colour of his hair. I believe shock can do that to memory. But I do remember the look of lust he had about him.

Next news she's on her back on the bed, legs spread with him, now naked, in between the V of her thighs giving her the big licks. I'm sure he didn't know about her webcam as there wasn't the slightest hint of self-consciousness.

However, even as she writhed and moaned on that black silk sheet while his tongue lapped and delved deeply she looked directly into camera a couple of times and winked. She knew I was watching alright.

Then her eyes shut tight, her back arched lifting her pelvis to meet the urgent attention of his slobbering mouth. She howled as a cataclysm of pleasure quaked through her and when he drew back a little way she drenched him with repeated jets squirting from deep within her.

They both subsided onto what must have been a very damp and somewhat stained sheet. For a couple of moments they lay motionless, then he managed to slither from the bed and get unsteadily to his feet. Performance over? Not if the size of his half hard-on was anything to go by.

She continued to lie there looking paler than ever if that was possible. Had he killed her? Stabbed to death through her pussy with his tongue. Could a Necromantrix actually die of carnal pleasure?

Her eyes flickered open and seemingly with great effort eased herself to the side of the bed and sat up. Already having shed her shoes she wearily began unlacing her basque before casting it aside, leaving herself as naked as her lick-fanny.

Perhaps the constriction had been too much as her breathing sounded laboured. So it was something of a surprise when she motioned for him to take her place on the sheet. He lay back, hands behind his head and closed his eyes as if about to take forty winks. Forty wanks more like, I thought, as she took hold of his cock.

In truth I didn't count the number of stokes it took to for him to be doing a passable impersonation of the leaning tower of Pisa. And she too seemed to have recovered vitality, spurred on by needs of her own.

"My boy lollipop..." sang Little Millie once many eons ago: this lollipop must have been blueberry flavour by the glistening colour of it. And flavoursome too for the urgency with which she licked and suckled at it.

Not often, but occasionally, I've wondered why a blowjob is so called. Playing the flesh-flute she may have been, but she was sucking the tune from him. And my how he sang, extemporised scat (jazz, not the brown stuff, or should that be jizz?) of mounting excitement.

By then I was with him, we'd both explode into her mouth together – oh yes...oh yes...oh yes...oh...she'd swallowed him, his whole length down to his balls and no gagging. And the way those balls were jumping...he...I...

I missed my tissue, squirted passed it, and in the paroxysm of my own pleasure I didn't give a thought to his at that moment or how I was going to clean my mess from the carpet before my wife got home. I lapsed into a concupiscent reverie as my heart slowly regained a regular rhythm.

Once I started breathing almost normally I opened my eyes again and couldn't have been more startled if my wife had been suddenly standing there. On screen the Necromantrix still had his cock deep in her throat. Had he failed to come? Were they going for the multiple orgasm? How was she breathing?

I was shocked, but not by the ongoing blowjob. In the tall mirrors beyond the bed on which the voluptuous Fille doe Joie was kneeling and about her lascivious business was a differing scene reflected.

He lay framed there unaltered though squirming somewhat uncomfortably. But over him was kneeling a wasted hag, paps hanging like empty polythene bags, her whole body emaciated as if she'd been starved for months. Grey hair, lank and thin, and skin that was of one exhumed too late.

Her eyes flicked up and stared through the mirror back at me unblinking, holding my gaze so I couldn't look away. Thin lips, cracked and blue, curled in a cruel smile while she kept drawing deeply on the blood-rich flesh she was devouring.

It wasn't discomfort making him writhe, rather he was having a perpetual orgasm. He had come and was continuing to come: the very last spurt of his spunk had been drained from him and swallowed already. She'd begun to leech the blood from him, the piss from his bladder; even the aqueous humour from his eyes she was determined to consume.

I could see the palpitations in her throat as she gorged on all the liquors of his body; she was drinking him. And as she did so her own form, reflected hideously in the mirror, began to regenerate, matching the appearance kneeling on the bed.

Wizened paps became full succulent breasts again, wrinkled parchment of her wasted buttocks turned once more into smooth well rounded bum-cheeks, she was the seductive BBW she had been, had continued to seem except in reflection.

When her eyes flicked away the lock on my gaze was broken. I looked through the webcam directly at the bed and watched as she finished him off. A final swallow and he was done. She relaxed her now full lips and seemingly let fall a mouthful of ash.

All that was left of his now dried-out cock was a small mound of dust. Indeed, the man on the black silk sheet was clearly discernable just, his shape formed from white salts. All that remains when a body has been utterly desiccated.

For a moment she was out of shot, but when she returned my horror was complete. There's many an urban tale told of men turning up at A & E with their dicks rammed tight into the nozzles of hoovers.

She pulled a small cylinder vacuum cleaner to the bed, turned it on and carefully, methodically, sucked him off for the very last time. As she did so, she looked at me through the mirror once more, winked and then my screen went blank.

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