vamp
- 2 years ago
- 29
- 0
Vamp free porn video
Vamp
By Sarah Kay
Between the early morning shadows of the city where living corpses dance
and cry and fuck, she found the haunted place. It lay out of sight, down a
back street draped in perilous gloom. Tom had not wanted her to walk down
there, dressed as she was, but the dream had shown Elly the way and she
took a deep breath, shuddered despite the heat, and stepped into its dark
heart.
There was a door above which a neon sign flickered languidly. Capital E. E
for excess. She laughed when she saw it and wondered what else Tom
would say to her, heart pounding like an express train and just because of a
dream. But the place was here and she was wide awake this time. He
couldn't deny her that little victory. The place was here and maybe after
tonight Tom would be silent.
The dream started for him a week ago. That was when Elly knew she'd be
coming back and that Tom would be getting all those nice things out of the
suitcases he kept in the attic. She could sense it building in him.
Interrupting his concentration. Flickering and burning and then blazing until
the only thing on his mind was her and no matter how much he drank and
fought, no matter how many women he took to bed, there would only be one
girl on his mind.
Elly.
That whore of Babylon he had known since childhood.
If he was so intent on giving up all his beautiful clothes then why didn't he
just throw them all away? Elly smiled in the darkness. Because, despite
what he said, Tom wasn't in control, he never had been. Elly was in control,
from the back of his mind, through every nerve, muscle and bone. She was
the dominant one.
His hands shook as he knelt over the cases and for one moment Elly had
thought he might break down in tears. He wiped the sweat from his face and
muttered something under his breath and then the first case was open and it
was like a flood tide sweeping over him.
Poor Tom. A victim of his own femininity.
She wasn't impressed with his first effort. He was over eager and out of
practice and he made Elly look like a mannequin. His movements held no
fluidity and when the knock came at the door he froze in the living room with
his high heel and stockings on. Mandy was outside, pacing round the
garden. Tom had fucked her a couple of nights ago but he hadn't been
thinking about Mandy while they did the dirty deed - he'd been wrapped up
in Elly as he always was.
"I know you're in there, Tom," Mandy cried. Her shadow moved across the
window.
Sure he is, giggled Elly. Sure he is. Why don't you come in and see what
he's wearing for you? Silk stockings and panties and a hot little balconette
bra that'll get all the men going. Won't she be impressed, Tom? Open the
door, let her in. Show her what a little slut you are. Maybe she'll let you be
her girlfriend for a while. Maybe you can have lesbian sex together.
But Mandy went away before Elly could convince him and Tom got to
moving again, ignoring the phone when it rang - the girl was certainly
persistent - and working on Ellys look until he was getting damn near perfect.
The dream came every night and in it Tom found weakness while Elly found
strength. The dream pulled her out of the darkness and sucked poor old Tom
in.
In it, she runs through the city, weighed down by the dank air and the
thought of the dark mans smile. The snake-skin dress stretches across her
thighs, hair streams behind her like a pennant of gold, perfumed rivulets of
sweat course the channel of her breasts and down the soft flesh of her
abdomen.
He'll change you for good, whisper the shadows.
"I know," she sobs as the neon sign buzzes and laughs and fucks with her
mind.
By the time this evening had crawled towards her, she knew she'd finally
make it out into the city. Tom had delayed as long as he could but by the time
Elly had played with his mind, showed him that oh-so-sweet dress in Duvalls
window and made him walk the streets until he broke - she felt him
physically wilt - she knew he'd soon be falling into the darkness she had
inhabited for so long.
God, she looked so fine in front of the mirror and even Tom had to agree that
no one in this city would think she was anything but Miss Real. She stepped
out into the night, swinging her hips and pouting her lips and she walked
straight to a bar and ordered a drink and the waiters mouth nearly hit the floor
when he saw her.
Now, steam from an air vent billowed up over the neon sign and, as her eyes
became accustomed to the gloom, she could see a man standing by the door.
He was hunched over and ugly, his face crawling with flesh coloured
leeches, eyes wide and staring straight at her. She shuddered. He had not
been part of the dream. His aroma spread across the street towards her. He
smelled of death and decay, of something lost beneath graven soil.
He beckoned to her and inside Elly felt frightened and delicious. Her skin
burned under his gaze and something deep in her belly unfolded. She
stepped forward as the man opened the door and as Tom screamed in the
back of her mind she moved fluidly into the bar. She went in because the
dream and the darkness always began this way and she needed to touch His
flesh, to feel His kisses, to feel His cold hands upon her glistening body.
She walked through the club, past the listless, melancholy clientele, the
sentimental singer on stage clad only in burned flesh, past the small dance
floor where two livid corpses clung to each other in death, past these to the
spiral staircase and its twists of rising metal thorns.
There she climbed to the balcony and the room and the bed and the man who
lay down with darkness. His flesh was pale ivory, his muscles stretched
firmly around long limbed bones, his hair long and jet, cascading over his
naked back and shoulders.
And his eyes.
His eyes touched her and she could not resist.
"I've waited for you," he said, a voice aged and beautiful.
She could not speak but it did not matter. He had visited her in the shadows
and they were old friends, old lovers who knew how to inflict pleasure and
pain.
His first touch, the brush of his palm against her cheek, was ice, a chill born
from the grave into life. It sent a shudder of pleasure through every cell of her
body. Fire and ice, she thought as he pulled her to him, placing his lips
against hers, death pressed against life. His skin carried the scent of a forest
at night, he tasted of clear cold water from a mountain stream. Goose bumps
lifted across her heated flesh and the vapour of her own sweat mixed with his
breath on her face.
His slender fingers reached into the unruly strands of her hair, across her
back, found the clasp of her dress as he pressed his lips deeper to hers, his
tongue now searching her, drawing the heat and passion from her.
The dress dropped to the floor and he lifted her up, cradling her in his arms
as she sucked on the flesh of his lips. He placed her upon a silk sheet and
she moaned with pleasure as he stooped to kiss her neck, her shoulder, her
breasts. His bare white teeth slipped across her nipples and she arched her
back, fighting that frantic need to pull him into her.
His black hair streamed across the mound of her breasts and stomach as his
lips gorged on her flesh and his tongue slipped over oily thighs working
closer and closer to the soft fleshy lips of her vagina. When he touched her
there she let her hands trail over the strong cold marble of his back, reaching
underneath, running her palms down his pectorals, the fine ribbing of his
stomach muscles until she found his stiff, wide cock, took it in her damp
hands and worked it slowly back and forth. His lips found the soft skin
beneath her pubic hair, worked sensuously towards her labia, parting the
flesh, his moist tongue working on her clitoris.. She gasped and turned, the
pleasure heaving inside her, growing with each breath, with each flickering
movement of his lips and tongue.
He rolled onto his back and she settled eagerly over his face, felt his hands
rise over her slick flesh to her breasts. She stooped and kissed the head of
his cock, conscious that this icy body was melting into her. She ran her lips
and tongue over the bulging helmet, trailed spit along its thick shaft, moaning
as he played with her erect, sensitive nipples.
She lifted his cock and placed it in her mouth, began to work back and forth,
could sense the explosion inside her begin, could feel his passion now rising
to a fever along with her own. His fingers probed her and she ached for him
to fill her, to become part of her, while his other hand tore suddenly across
her back. Her muscles contracted with delicious pain.
The orgasm rose in her, then died as if he had willed it to be so and she could
feel his organ swell in her mouth, felt her lips stretch around it until her teeth
embedded in the hard flesh, scraping along its length. His own teeth pressed
ravenously into her labia, her eyes widened with fear and ecstasy as he
enjoyed the flesh, his fingers digging into her waist, pulling her down. The
orgasm rose again, came like a roaring ice fire through every cell filled her as
his semen seemed to fill her, gushing from his cock, drowning her with its
deathly sweet taste. His teeth dug deeper and deeper and she could not hide
the pain beneath the shock of her own orgasm, knew that her own blood was
running between her legs, over his face, into his open mouth.
The world shook around them and she could hear the cries of the wanton
dead fucking in the darkness of the bar below them.
He lifted her as the orgasm subsided and she rolled across the desert of silk,
glorying in the fire that was inside her, the ice outside, urging them together
in her mind. He pressed his lips to hers again. She could taste her own salt
blood, wondered if he had enjoyed drinking it, wanted to tell him that it was
his to own.
She let him part her legs, wrapped her thighs around his waist, let him push
his still hard cock deep inside her. The pain brought tears and a sob of joy.
His movements swallowed her breath and he screamed her name in passion
as she clawed at his back and felt his now hot, slick sweating body slipped
across her cold, dying flesh.
It was beautiful, she thought. He was beautiful.
His strong arms wrapped around her, raising her, impaling her on his cock.
Then he lifted her, his flesh sweeping up and down her until lights began to
explode across his face, her nipples hard and raw and bleeding, until the last
of the life was drawn from her, pressed to his once dead flesh and she was
reminded of a dream she once had.
That she had worn a snake-skin dress and high heels, gold bangle earrings,
and expensive perfume. And that a dark man had promised to make her
whole.
She let it come, let it twist and turn her flesh, let him feast on her until the sun
began to rise outside and he left to find his own place of rest, deep in the
earth. There were times as she lay there alone, unable to move, that she
could feel the heat and intensity of daylight outside, pounding at the walls of
the building, wanting to rip her black soul apart. But the day did not last
forever and when night fell she rose from the bed and studied her pale form
in the mirror. This was no dream. She had a beautiful body in every way,
from the pretty face and the long golden hair to the marbled flesh of her
breasts and the curve of her hips.
She was beautiful.
And now she was hungry...
(the end)
Mckenna
- 01.12.2020
- 27
- 0
