The Vampire’s Kiss Chapter Seven: Angel’s Stained Passion

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The Vampire’s Kiss
Chapter 7: Angel’s Stained Passion
by mypenname3000
Copyright 2016

Aurora the fallen angel had thrown off the shackles of Heaven’s pathetic rules. All they did was constrain the forces of good and allow evil to flourish unchecked. To allow Jezebel to flourish unchecked and protect her client, Faust.

Aurora would see the vampire Faust slain and Jezebel’s plans undone. She would not flinch in the pursuit of righteousness. She would use every tool at her disposal, including the vampire Damien. He had once been a good man, a vampire hunter until he and his wife Abigail ran afoul of Faust’s twisted machinations.

But Damien had to be reined in. Already he had turned one virgin into his thrall, a mortal gifted with enhanced physical attributes, and another girl into a vampire. She feared what he would do now that he had a taste of blood. She needed to hone him into her weapon and aim him at Faust.

She would throw him like a javelin at the vampire. He would kill Faust to rescue his wife and avenge their treatment.

Then Aurora would have a decision to make. If she could still harness Damien and keep his appetites under control, she could use him to hunt more vampires and the other denizens that lurk in the shadows and preyed upon mankind.

But not if he kept feasting on women. Even if he turned his victims into vampires, he still destroyed their lives and gave them only a shadowed unlife. Even poor Britney Lawson, his thrall, had her life irrevocably altered. She was tied to his energy. When he died, so would she.

In a way, she was already dead, just like Mary Daniels, his vampiress.

Aurora reached Chicago, tracking Damien’s trail. While she had been in Heaven receiving her punishment, he had moved from the small town of Pingree Grove to the city. It was a good sign. Faust and Damien’s captured wife were in the city. He was focused.

She reached a club, its dance music thudding into the dark night. Crowds of men and women, all reeking of sin and drugs, queued to get in and lose themselves to hedonism. Damien lurked on the second floor, in a loft apartment over the club. She circled the building unseen in the Ether and landed before the loft’s door.

“Aurora,” gasped Gideon, the angel that had assisted her. He still monitored Damien after she had been hauled into Heaven. “You’re wings.”

Her once white wings were stained with ash. She flared them as she glared at the angel. “Do not interfere, Gideon, I would hate to have to injure you.”

“Injure?” Angels could appear in a variety of forms limited only by their gender. Gideon adopted a scholarly appearance. The shock of her words caused his wire-rimmed glasses to slip down his nose. “Aurora, you wouldn’t.”

“I do what must be done for the good of the world,” I answered. “I am free of the rules. It is time to intervene.”

Gideon swallowed. “Your presences is disrupting the probability factors surrounding Damien’s mission. Right now, he is focused on killing Faust and rescuing his wife. Things are progressing mostly to your liking. No intervention is necessary.”

“Has he fed again? Has he increased his victims?” Aurora’s eyes seized his. “Well?”

Gideon swallowed. “Twice. He has a second thrall and turned another vampiress. They are inside going through the change. Other then them, Damien is alone.”

“Then more evil has been allowed to be perpetrated,” Aurora declared. “I will make sure Damien understands.”

Aurora stepped into the real world, manifesting without Heaven’s permission. It was wonderful to act under her own agency. She grasped the doorknob, twisted, and threw the door open. She stepped through into the loft and faced Damien.

Damien recognized her. He stood naked and powerful, his dark-brown hair giving him a dark, rugged, bad boy vibe. He had the body and face that women panted after. At his feet lay his newest victims, a light-skinned African-American and a gorgeous Hispanic. Blood scented the air.

“I tried to save you,” Aurora said as she strode across the loft, her head shaking at his victims. I will keep you from becoming a complete monster. “This has to stop. You can’t keep ruining women’s lives and making them yours. You need to find your purpose again.”

“Or you’ll kill me?” snarled Damien.

He lunged at Aurora.

The fallen angel had not anticipated Damien attacking. She had anticipated reaching through to Damien’s good heart. She had glimpsed it still even after the change. He did fight against his nature. Technically, he had avoided killing, though turning two women into vampiresses and another two into thralls skirted that edge.

“Wait,” she cried out before he crashed into her.

His weight bore them to the floor. Gray feathers rained in the air as he pinned her to the floor. His eyes blazed as he stared down at her. His strong fingers held her shoulders. Her large, naked breasts heaved beneath him, and she was all too aware of his cock pressing on her belly.

“Do you think you can stop me from killing Faust? I will not be easy prey for Heaven and the hunters. I will rescue my wife.”

“I’m here to help you,” Aurora snarled. She bucked her body and threw him over her head. She flapped her wings and popped up to her feet. She spun around. “You just need to control your dark appetites.”

Damien moved fast. He was a trained hunter, an expert fighter, and now he was enhanced with a vampire’s supernatural strength and reflexes. When she threw him, he let the momentum carry him into a roll. He came up and jumped at the wall. Aurora frowned until he twisted and planted his feet square on the wall.

He leaped and threw himself at her.

“Heaven’s light,” she gasped right before Damien crashed into her stomach. The air burst from Aurora’s lungs. She had manifested. She had a body so long as she walked the mortal world.

A body that could feel pain.

The force of his impact threw her back. She soared across the room and crashed into one of the loft’s support columns. It was solid concrete, rebounding her body. The plaster that covered the column cracked and fell with her to the ground.

“Damien,” she coughed as he rushed at her. “You do not want to do this. I am a warrior of light. A sword of Heaven. Purity blazes in me.”

Damien bared his fangs.

Aurora’s tool against the darkness was lost. He rushed at her, his face set. He would kill her. She summoned her sword. It flashed to life in her hand, but its pure blaze sputtered and flickered. She didn’t care. It was a weapon made of Heaven’s light. She lunged as she stood, thrusting the sword at his chest.

Damien twisted, and her blade rushed by him. He slipped past her weapon and into her guard.

“I will not be easy meat,” he growled and seized her right wrist. His other hand slammed into her throat. If she were human, her broken trachea would have seen her choking and dieing.

But her body was made of sterner substance—light.

She growled, anger seizing him. He had become evil. He was out of control. If he would not serve righteousness, then she would kill him. She formed a fist with her left hand and planted it hard into his stomach. The vampire grunted and staggered, his grip slipping on her throat and sword arm.

Aurora wrenched her sword arm free of his grasp and did a high kick, catching him in the guts right. He grunted and staggered back, giving her room to swing her sword. She hissed like an angry cat as her sputtering blade of light slashed at Damien.

He twisted and moved back. He held up his arms defensively, his feet spaced wide, moving on the balls of his feet. Ready to strike. He was coiled, his eyes moving. He sought a weapon to defend himself with.

Aurora wouldn’t give him the opportunity to reach a weapon. She sprang at him, her wings flapping behind her. She had been trained to fight with blade. Her attacks were quick and efficient. She did not leave herself open. Damien had no choice but to retreat before her onslaught, his eyes searching for any holes in her attacks he could exploit.

Aurora never gave him one as she kept swinging. “You should have let me talk,” she snarled. “I was here to help you.”

“Right,” Damien sneered. “An angel would help a vampire.”

“I want Faust dead. I want Jezebel’s plans foiled.” Her sword hissed as it arched through the air, trying to find Damien’s flesh.

She admired his skill as he retreated from her blade. He was the best of the Knights Venator. Look at him move know. What an instrument for Heaven he could have been if he had only kept his appetites in check.

But his skill and his undead state kept him from tiring. She drove him across the room. They moved in a circle. She could never quite pin him into a corner, and so long as he kept dancing back, she couldn’t get to him.

Not without leaving herself open to reprisal.

“Why did you harm those two women?” Aurora asked, an idea forming in her head.

“Because I could,” Damien smiled. He glanced at the two naked women. Both stirred, their changes almost complete. “I understand vampires now. Why they feed? I thought it was just hunger, and it is. But there is so much more to it than satiating something so…bestial. Blood is intoxicating. It’s life, and those women gave it to me. Willingly. The ultimate surrender to my dominance.”

“You lie,” she snarled and then swung her blade a hair too hard. It left herself open as she recovered.

Damien lunged in, reaching to grasp her arm. He forced Aurora to dance back before she could bring her sword up again. He halted his attack, retreating, waiting for his next opportunity. He had a hungry smile on his face. He was a lion stalking her, waiting for the moment to pounce.

Aurora couldn’t help the wicked thrill that went through her body. His dick was hard, his eyes dilated. The fighting aroused him. Her nipples hardened as she swung her blade at his flesh, and heat flushed her pussy.

Her body burned with life. Her blood pounded through her veins.

“I can smell your excitement, angel,” Damien grinned. “Are you sure you don’t want me to do the stabbing? Put away that sword, and I’ll take care of your hot cunt.”

“You are filthy,” she snarled, freeing her passions. She let herself attack wildly, her sword flailing. “I would never sleep with a vile creature like you.”

“Are you so sure?” Damien laughed. “Aren’t you curious why those two women surrendered to me? They let me drain them. They begged for it. They were willing and offered themselves up to be fed upon. Don’t you want to do the same? Don’t you want to experience the ecstasy of my bite?”

“No,” Aurora snarled. “I will end your perfidy.”

“I can smell your blood. It’s as sweet as your cunt.”

The angel’s pussy clenched. Flashes of lying beneath him, his cock plunging through her pussy, shot through her mind. She couldn’t deny his raw magnetism. Abigail, his wife, had enjoyed Damien’s primal strength many times. Aurora had witnessed their shared passion.

She pictured herself in place of Abigail.

“You’re getting wetter,” Damien grinned. “I can smell it. I can see the beads of dew adorning your bare pussy lips. Put away your sword and surrender to me.”

“I will never be your whore!”Aurora screamed, putting all her passion into her attack as she feinted with a hard, overhand swing.

To Damien, it would look like she had overcommitted to her attack. He danced to the right to let her blade swipe past him. Then he lunged in, expecting her to be off-balance. Swinging too hard was a danger in sword fighting. You had to stay in control at all times.

And Aurora was still in control. Damien’s words did not effect her.

She pivoted and lunged. The blade of her sword, burning with Heaven’s purity and therefore maltcasino anathema to a vampire, slammed through Damien’s belly. “I’ll just kill Faust without you,” Aurora hissed as the sputtering light of her sword blazed brighter, strobing through the loft. “And I’ll make sure to put Abigail out of her misery.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You have to kill him, the demon Jezebel whispered from Father Augustine’s soul. She had corrupted the priest and possessed him. Her dark powers had flooded through him, banishing the holy. It’s the only way to save Mary and Britney. Kill him, and they’ll be yours.

Father Augustine shuddered in the D’Angelos’ living room as he listened to the demon. The priest had been yoked by his desires. For three decades, Father Augustine had denied himself the pleasures of the flesh. All while he had lusted after the nubile creatures that swept through his small church. When he wasn’t aiding Damien and Abigail D’Angelo on their vampire hunts, he was fighting off the desires inflamed by the women of his parish.

In confession, he heard their sins, their wanton acts of debauchery. Even the married women had their affairs. He ached to enjoy them, to make the women satiate the lusts they stirred in his loins. He wanted to fuck them.

To degrade them.

Now, thanks to Jezebel’s intervention and possession, he had yoked two whores to his will. And the good father yearned for a third.

You have enough communion left to make Mrs. Lawson yours, Jezebel cooed, her soul trembling in delight. She felt the Father’s pleasure and experienced his bliss when he buried his cock into his whores’ flesh. Then together you shall find her wayward daughter Britney.

Father Augustine’s back straightened. His dick was hard beneath is black cassock, yearning to feel the married woman’s lusts. Her husband was out searching for their eighteen-year-old daughter who had fallen into Damien and Abigail’s hands.

Yes, yes, you have to kill them. They’re vampires now, purred Jezebel. They’ve gone to Chicago.

The demon needed Damien dead. She had a pact with Faust, an agreement to protect the vampire from Heaven’s servants. It was clear Heaven sought to use Damien to kill Faust. In the last few hours, her certainty had grown. Jezebel could feel it through the Ether. The priest would be her agent, an unholy shaman who would dispatch Damien without Faust even knowing he was in danger.

Go and seduce the MILF, purred Jezebel. She is weak. A whorish woman. Remind her of her affair. Remind her that she is a slut like every other woman.

The priest’s grin grew as his dick throbbed harder. He swept out of the blood-filled house of the D’Angelos to head next door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Father Hyrum Augustine’s dick ache despite the blood in the air.

The coppery reek permeated the house. The violence and unholy lusts that had been committed in the house would forever stain it. His heart beat faster as he listened to the feminine voice. She whispered such sweet advice.

Donna Lawson was a MILF begging to be fucked hard. Her body was wasted on her boring husband. She inspired such lusts in the priests. Lusts only her married cunt could satisfy. Her blonde, busty beauty burned through his face. She was a mature flower, her body kept lean by exercise. And those lips. Red. Lush. Cock-sucking lips.

The priest marched out of the D’Angelos house with purpose.

“Father,” Joy called from the gray church van parked between the D’Angelos’ and Lawsons’ residences. The blonde was the first of Father Augustine’s holy warriors. She had drank his communion and been bound to him, gifted powers. Father Augustine didn’t know what those powers were, but he was certain Joy would manifest them at the right time. “What is going on?”

“The darkness has claimed my friends,” he answered, “and twisted them into vampires. This is why you were chosen. Fetch the communion cup. It is time to transform a third whore into something holy.”

“Yes, Father,” Joy said, a big smile on her youthful face.

Joy and Samantha, a brunette with a pair of sexy glasses on her face, stepped out. Samantha had thought she was innocent, but Father Augustine had shown the bride-to-be that she was truly a whore. But he had saved her, too, and given her holy purpose.

The two young women followed Father Augustine into the Lawson’s house. Just inside, a portrait of the family hung on the wall. Britney Lawson looked as scrumptious as her mother Donna, a younger, sweeter version of the ripe peach the priest would eat tonight. Donna’s husband, Tony, was a weak man, overweight and with a soft smile on his lips. An infant was cradled in Donna’s arms.

“Father Augustine,” Donna said. She sat on her couch, her hands crossed before her, and tears stained her cheeks. “You have to help me find Britney. This isn’t like her. She doesn’t stay out late. I know she’s eighteen, but not for long. Please.”

Father Augustine cupped Donna’s chin and lifted her eyes. “I will help you, Donna,” he said, stroking her cheek and wiping away her tears, “but you must embrace my teachings. You must abandon your whorish ways and become a holy warrior to face the darkness that has claimed your daughter.”

“Darkness?” She swallowed. “Holy warrior? What are you talking about, Father? My daughter’s missing, and you want to preach about sin?”

He tightened his grip on her chin. Energy tingled out of him into her skin. “Woman, your daughter has been taken by a vampire. When I speak of holiness and darkness, these are forces that every day clash around us. This is not preaching.” He bore into Donna’s eyes. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t.

She senses my power. I bet her pussy’s getting wet, the whore. Women are always sluts for power.

“If you want to see your daughter rescued, you must abandon your whorish ways and embrace the holy,” Father Augustine growled. “Do you understand me?”

“I’m not a whore,” she protested. “I’m a married woman.”

“Who had an affair,” growled Father Augustine. “Does your husband know Ryan isn’t his son?”
She froze. “Please, that was a mistake. I ended it. I want to put that in my past. I was weak, Father.”

“Yes, you were weak. You are weak. You are a woman, slave to that hot, wet hole between your thighs.” He ran his thumb over her lips. They were wet. He pulled her lush lips apart and pushed his thumb inside. “You are a whore, but I shall redeem you with my communion.”

Donna trembled. Her lips were wrapped tight about his thumb. Something kindled in her eyes. His touch aroused her. Another whore, unable to control herself. The way she sucks on my thumb. She wants my cock. She yearns to feel it in her mouth and drink my seed.

The slut.

“Look at you,” Father Augustine growled. “You can’t help yourself. You’re sucking on my thumb like it were a cock. You want my cock, don’t you? You want to suck it. You’ve made me so hard with your whorish ways.”

“She’s a slut, Father,” Joy said. “Just like we were.”

“Mrs. Lawson,” Samantha purred, “embrace his holy teachings. He will cleanse you and make you pure. He did it to us.”

“Just surrender to me and I will save your daughter and purify your whorish soul.”

She sucked harder on his thumb. Her tongue brushed it, circling it. His cock throbbed, eager to feel her warmth. Donna’s cheeks blossomed with color. She let out a moan. A whore’s moan. She is a wanton slattern. She tempts me.

And she claims to be a pure, married woman.

Father Augustine pulled his thumb from her lips. “Do it. Take out what you truly desire and suck like the whore you are. Satiate your lusts.”

“Father, I…” She licked her lips. “I don’t know what is going on. I shouldn’t…my daughter is missing…but…” Her hand trembled as she reached out and squeezed his bulge through his cassock. “I can’t…fight this. I…I am a whore. It’s like my body has betrayed me. I’m so wet. So hot. Father, please forgive me.”

Her hands pulled up his cassock. She licked her lips, her blue eyes lidded with her passion. For a moment, Father Augustine imagined her youthful daughter kneeling beside her mother, eager to suck his cock with Donna.

“I am a whore. What is wrong with me, Father?”

“Just surrender to me,” he told her. “Surrender and I shall save your daughter. You shall be my holy warrior. I shall channel your lusts into something pure.”

“Yes,” She panted as she lifted up his cassock and exposed his dick. He wore no underwear beneath. It flopped out, thick and throbbing. “Oh, yes, it is so much thicker than my husband’s. I need to suck it.”

Donna Lawson swallowed the priest’s cock.

“Yes,” he groaned. “Satiate your lusts.”

“What a whore,” Joy moaned as she clutched the communion chalice filled with a mix of the priest’s cum and Samantha’s virgin pussy juices.

Father Augustine groaned as she sucked. Her cheeks hollowed. Her lips sealed tight. So red about his shaft. She bobbed her mouth while her tongue swirled around his sensitive cock. She was skilled. His balls already throbbed.

She needs to teach Joy and Samantha how to truly suck my cock.

“That’s it, whore,” growled Father Augustine, his balls aching.

The MILF’s hands found his balls, massaging them as she bobbed more and more of her mouth down his cock. His dick’s tip rubbed along the roof of her mouth and brushed the back of her throat. The pleasure raced up his dick.

He groaned and ran his hand through her blonde hair. She sucked louder. He loved the wet sounds as she worshiped his cock. She couldn’t help it. Her lusts had consumed her. Donna’s blue eyes burned with them as she stared up at the priest.

He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He had to attend to her husband. The last thing he needed was for John Lawson to interfere. He struggled to concentrate—Donna’s mouth sucked so hard—as he scrolled through the address book. He had most of his parishioners numbers saved.

Father Augustine found it and dialed.

The phone rang while Donna worked her mouth down his dick. The tip pressed into the back of her throat. The Father’s eyes widened as John picked up. “Father Augustine?” There was a hint of panic in the man’s voice. “Have you found Britney?”

It took a moment for the Father to responded. John’s wife had deep-throated the priest’s cock. Her throat constricted about the end of his cock, massaging it. His balls boiled over. Sweat beaded on the priest’s forehead.

“Your wife and I…will find her,” gasped the priest. His voice throbbed with power. “We will be very diligent. You have nothing to worry about.”

“I do?”

“Nothing,” the priest continued. “Your wife has been chosen. Even know she prepares to purified by her new communion.”

“Okay,” John said.

“She is no longer yours, but mine,” growled the priest.

Donna moaned about his dick. Her passion humming about his dick. The priest shuddered as the whorish MILF pleasured him. She knew whom he talked to. He could see it in her eyes. It spurred her to please the priest more.

“Yours, Father? I don’t understand.”

“Your wife has taken vows,” groaned the priest. “Holy vows.”

“Like a nun?”

“Yes,” groaned Father Augustine as Donna slid her mouth back up his dick, sucking the entire way. She was eager for his cum to spurt into her mouth. She hungered for it. “Like a nun. You need to come home and take care of your son.”

“Okay,” the weak-willed man said. “I trust you, Father.”

“Yes,” groaned Father Augustine as his cum exploded from his cock. Donna moaned as she drank down blast after blast of the priest’s jizz that spilled into her mouth. She swallowed and sucked, eager for every drop of the priest’s cum. “Hallelujah, your maltcasino giriş wife has drunk my seed and is ready for her communion.”

“Seed, Father?” asked John. “What are you—”

The priest hung up, his body buzzing with pleasure. Donna licked her lips as she stared up at him. Her eyes were lidded with passion. She was ready for the communion. Without being asked, Joy stepped up. She held the goblet to Donna’s mouth.

“This is my body,” the priest panted as Joy pressed the cup to Donna’s lips. “This is my blood. This is my essence mixed.” Joy tilted the cup and Donna drank the last of the holy communion. “Eat and drink this in remembrance of my authority.”

Donna shuddered and black sparks rippled across her body. A lasting connection sprang between Father Augustine and the MILF. The feminine voice purred in delight from the priest’s soul. Donna gasped, then her voice cut off as both Joy and Samantha kissed their sister-warrior, their tongues swiping.

The sight stirred Father Augustine’s lusts. “Joy, you will drive us to Chicago while Donna satiates the lusts you three have churned in my body.”

“Yes, Father,” Joy smiled.

Donna smiled. “And how will I satiate you, Father?”

“How do you think?”

“With my wet, hot hole,” she moaned. “My cunt.”

“We should go before your husband arrives. The last thing we need is to hear his blubbering.”

Donna nodded and rose, her nipples tenting the front of her halter top. They were fat and hard. Father Augustine squeezed her breasts through her clothing. They were his. Donna shuddered and moaned. He pushed her clothing down, exposing her pink nipple. He pinched it and led her out of the house to the van.

The MILF shuddered as she trailed after the priest. Her pupils were dilated and her hips shifted in the tight shorts she wore. Father Augustine glanced down at her gorgeous legs, sleek and tan, and so firm. He couldn’t wait to feel them wrapped about his body.

Joy reached the van and started it up while Samantha threw open the sliding, side door, revealing the back of the van strewn with weapons and other equipment to kill vampires. Crossbows, white oak quarrels, shotgun shells full of salt, ampoules of holy water, and silver coated machete filled the van.

“Oh, my,” Donna gasped as she looked around. “We are going to fight evil.”

“Yes, we are,” groaned the Priest, his dick aching. He slammed the door shut behind them. “Strip me.”

“Yes, Father,” Donna and Samantha purred in unison.

Joy pulled the van from the curb as the Father’s two sluts pulled up the hem of his cassock. It didn’t take long to strip the priest when he wore nothing beneath his vestments. His body was firm and strong beneath. He kept in shape to aide his hunters. While he never ventured into a vampire’s nest on hunts with the D’Angelos, he had been prepared to.

“Now strip each other,” the priest grinned.

The two women turned to each other. Donna licked her lips while Samantha had a gentle smile. Samantha reached out and seized the hem of Donna’s halter top, peeling it over her head. Her breasts were held by a low-cut demi bra. The priest had pulled her right breast out of the cup, but the left was still contained. Barely.

“Have you ever been with a woman, Donna?” Samantha asked. “Or did you manage to fight that whorish desire?”

“I fought it.” Donna licked her lips as Samantha unclasped her bra and spilled out the MILF’s heavy tits.

“Now you don’t have to,” purred Samantha as she clutched both of Donna’s heavy breasts. “Neither of us do. We are holy sisters now. Me, you, and Joy. We are united by Father Augustine’s holy communion. So this is not a sin.”

Donna moaned as Samantha leaned over and sucked on the fat, pink nub. Father Augustine stroked his cock, not fast. He savored the lesbian sight playing out before him. Samantha’s glasses slipped down her nose as she sucked and nibbled. Her hands slid down Donna’s flat stomach to her shorts.

A snap echoed through the van. Donna’s shorts came undone. Samantha’s hands pushed them off Donna’s hips while the younger woman kept sucking at Donna’s nipple. The MILF moaned and stroked Samantha’s brown hair.

“This is…wonderful,” Donna gasped in awe. “She’s so gentle. Oh, yes. Mmm, I love your lips.”

Donna was left in only her skimpy, light-yellow panties. Her legs spread as Samantha rubbed between Donna’s thighs. The gusset of her panties grew wet. Father Augustine licked his lips as he stroked himself a little faster, the pleasure spilling through his body.

“Father,” gasped Donna as Samantha slid off her panties, “can she…?”

“Eat your whorish cunt?” growled the Priest. “Yes.”

“Mmm, I would love to,” moaned Samantha. She pushed up her glasses before she lowered her face between Donna’s thighs.

Donna leaned back. Her large breasts shook and jiggled as she laid out on the back of the van. When the vehicle hit a little bump, the movement translated through her heavy tits and they shook like jello. Though no jello was so sweet to gaze upon.

“Father,” gasped Donna as Samantha took her first, loving lick through Donna’s pussy.
Samantha’s lips were pressed into the golden hairs of Donna’s bush. The young woman licked and nuzzled, eager to please her new sister and her priest. Father Augustine savored the sight of his submissive women pleasuring each other for his amusement.

“That’s it, lick her whorish cunt. Donna needs to cum on your lips. She needs to be wet and ready to receive my cock.”

“Yes.” Donna’s eyes squeezed shut. She let out a low moan and humped her hips into Samantha’s eager, licking tongue. “She’s so amazing, Father. Oh, yes. I never had a man do this to me. I had heard. It’s so wonderful.”

“Cherish the gift. Use me and your holy sisters to keep from sinning and tempting men with your whorish body. You have been purified and you must remain that way.”

“Yes, yes, pure,” she moaned. “So pure. Mmm, eat my cunt. Yes, yes. So good. Keep licking with your tongue. Oh, Lord, that’s amazing.”

Father Augustine reached out with his free hand and pinched the MILF’s nipple. She bucked and gasped, her eyes widening as he twisted. “Are you enjoying her tongue, whore?”

“So much, Father. I love it. I’m going to cum. Oh, yes, I love cumming. And now I don’t have to feel guilty.”

“No. Let yourself satiate your whorish lusts.”

Donna’s face contorted. Her back arched and her tits jiggled. She let out a long, low moan as her body thrashed. Her orgasm burst through her. Samantha licked harder, gathering up the MILF’s naughty juices.

“Hallelujah,” groaned Father Augustine. “Satiate yourself on Samantha’s slutty lips. Let her pleasure you. She’ll drink down all your juices.”

“She is, Father,” gasped Donna. She bucked again. “Oh, Lord, I’m cumming. I can’t stop. It’s wonderful. Her tongue is so wicked. She keeps licking me and pleasing me. Oh, yes. Oh, Lord, yes.”

“Move to the side, slut,” Father Augustine growled. He could no longer contain himself. He had to satiate the lusts the two whores stirred in him.

Samantha moved, her lips and chin stained with Donna’s excitement. Father Augustine settled between Donna’s thighs. The MILF, still trembling, reached down and grasped the priest’s cock. She guided him to her hungry, wet pussy.

“Fuck me, Father,” gasped the MILF.

“Fuck her,” moaned Samantha. “She needs more. I couldn’t get rid of all her whorish lusts.”
Donna rubbed the priest’s dick against her dripping flesh. Her fat labia pressed around his dick and then he popped into her depths. He thrust forward, burying into the married whore’s cunt. She gasped and clenched down on him, embracing him with her warm silk.

“Father Augustine!” Donna moaned in delight.

“Yes, fuck her, Father,” panted Samantha as she ripped off her dress. She was naked beneath, the dark-brown curls adorning her pubic mound dripping with her excitement. She straddled Donna’s face. “Pleasure me, holy sister, my lusts are consuming me. I need them relieved.”

“Yes,” purred Donna with a greedy hunger.

The MILF’s pussy clenched on Father Augustine’s cock as she pulled Samantha down. The younger woman’s eyes widened behind her glasses as Donna took her first lick of a woman’s cunt. She moaned, loving it, and licked again.

“Devour her,” growled Father Augustine. He fucked the MILF harder, his balls slapping into her flesh as he savored her hot depths. “And pleasure me. Make me cum. I will flood your whorish cunt.”

“Yes,” moaned Donna, her voice muffled by Samantha’s pussy.

Samantha was in heaven. Her round breasts jiggled before Father Augustine as she rode Donna’s mouth. The priest leaned over, sucking on Samantha’s small nipple. She squealed in delight and grasped his shoulders. Her grip was strong as she squeezed.

“Yes, yes. Eat my pussy, Donna. Satiate my sinful body. Mmm, yes. I love your tongue. You’re doing so good. I hope you love the taste of my pussy. I loved yours. It was delicious.”

Donna answered with a moan.

Father Augustine sucked hard on Samantha’s small nipple. Then he nipped her flesh. He kept fucking Donna, savoring her tight, wet sheath. It gripped his cock. His flesh ached in her depths. He drew back and thrust faster, pounding her, eager to explode into her hot depths and hear her scream out in bliss.

His balls boiled over. Her pussy clenched and relaxed on his flesh, massaging his cock. Every stroke through her silky flesh increased the pressure in his balls. He sucked harder on Samantha’s nipple as he neared his orgasm.

“Donna, yes, right there,” gasped Samantha. Her fingernails bit into the priest’s shoulders. “That’s what I need. Oh, yes, oh, wow. I’m going to cum so hard on you. Yes, yes, yes.”

The slut bucked and shuddered as her orgasm exploded through her body. Donna drank down the juices that flooded out of Samantha. Father Augustine released her nipple and watched his slut’s face contort with pleasure. Her glasses slipped off her nose, threatening to fall off as she threw back her head and screamed.

Donna’s pussy spasmed on the priest’s cock. The MILF’s orgasm rippled through her pussy. His dick ached in her depths. She wanted his cum, and the priest was more than happy to give it to the slut. He drew back and slammed into her depths, grunting as he exploded.

His cum pulsed from his dick. Every blast sent pleasure shuddering through him. The feminine voice that whispered in his soul cried out her bliss, experiencing it with him. He savored cumming in a married woman’s pussy.

I have stolen her from her husband. Father Augustine smiled as the thought sank through the fuzzy haze of bliss on his mind.

“Father,” Joy asked. “Where are we going in Chicago?”

Damien will try to kill Faust. He must be protected. “Faust Tower.”

“Yes, Father.”

Samantha sucked his cock into her mouth, cleaning him as he relaxed. He stroked the slut’s hair and closed his eyes. He had to prepare himself to kill Damien and Abigail. He had worked with them for a decade. They were the closest thing to a family the priest had.

But now they had to be destroyed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abigail seethed as she was used by the humans. For hours they had fucked her. Their filthy seed dripped out of her ass and cunt. Their jizz painted her face and hair. More dripped from her body, slowly drying on her skin.

She couldn’t do anything but act like a dog for them. A bitch for the rich elite of Chicago to fuck for the amusement of her Sire. And Faust hadn’t even stayed around to watch all of her humiliation. He had left hours ago. That was part of the punishment.

Her Sire cared so little he couldn’t even be bothered to watch.

A doggy bowl swimming maltcasino güncel giriş with cum was plopped before her. “A contribution from the staff,” laughed a woman with a shrill voice. “They were all so eager to see you fed, slut.”

A foot clad in stiletto heels shoved Abigail’s head into the swimming bowl of cum. There had to be dozens and dozens of men’s jizz to fill the bowl so deep. The cum filled her mouth as the sharp point of the heel pressed her face in deep.

If she were human, she would have drowned.

Anger burned through Abigail. She wanted to rip out the cunt’s throat that ground her face into the bowl of cum. But she had her orders from her Sire. She couldn’t harm anyone or even feed off of them. She had to obey.

She swallowed, drinking up the cum. The salty jizz flooded down her throat. Her pussy burned and she moaned into the jizz when a cock entered her, fucking her hard from behind. The humiliation only made her burn hotter.

I am a slut. Sire was right.

Why are you putting up with this? a familiar voice demanded from Abigail’s soul.

The world vanished as the voice yanked Abigail down into darkness. Chains clinked about Abigail, binding the vampiress to her Sire’s will. She hung in a void. Another Abigail floated before her, free and wild. Abigail envied the way Dream-Abigail looked. Her red hair was wild and fiery, her fangs sharp, her body strong, eager to hunt.

“Why are you letting these humans debase us?” Dream-Abigail demanded, seizing the real Abigail.
“Because these are Sire’s commands.”

Dream-Abigail seized the chains. She pulled at them, trying to undo them. But not even the wild and free Dream-Abigail had the strength. Abigail only smiled. Serving Faust was her purpose in life. He had created her.

“That motherfucker!” raged Dream-Abigail. “I’ll tear him apart for what he did.”

“Sire?” Abigail gasped in shock. “You can’t.”

Dream-Abigail embraced the real one. Their breasts pressed together. Heat burned in Abigail’s pussy. Dream-Abigail kissed her hard, thrusting her tongue into the real Abigail’s mouth. Abigail sighed into her doppelganger’s kiss.

I will break free, Dream-Abigail screamed in Abigail’s thoughts. Then we shall avenge our husband’s murder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damien D’Angelo was surprised to be alive. The angel’s sword had rammed right through his guts. The light of her blade pulsed and flickered. It should be attacking him. Purity was anathema to a vampire, and nothing should have been more pure than heavenly light.

The angel’s golden eyes widened in shock as she stared at her blade rammed through his guts. It even went out his back. It hurt. A stabbing, agonizing pain that only made Damien’s cock harder. His blood scented the air, spilling about her blade.

“I don’t think you’re so pure anymore, angel,” Damien grinned as he pulled himself up the blade. It slid through his guts. Hot rapture shuddered through him. He seized her shoulders and took a second step. “Is it your lusts? Has your wet, hot, angelic cunt poisoned you with filthy desires? I can see it in your eyes and smell it from your cunt. You want to fuck me.”

“You are twisted, Damien,” she hissed.

Damien took the final step, groaning in ecstatic agony. His cock brushed her smooth pubic mound, throbbing as it slid up her flesh to rest against her stomach. Her breasts and hard nipples pressed against Damien’s chest. The vampire held the angel in his embrace. One of his hands slid down to squeeze her ass.

“That’s what makes you so wet, Angel,” he grinned, his fangs out. “I can hear your heart thudding with excitement. And I know you can smell that sweet cunt dripping juices down your thighs. You smell as delicious as your blood.” Damien leaned forward. She tried to pull back, but he held her tight.

His lips met hers.

The angel’s eyes closed. She moaned into the kiss. Her sword twisted through his guts. His dick throbbed even harder pressed against her flesh. Damien undulated his hips, ignoring the sword cutting more of his flesh, and allowed his cock to pop between her sleek thighs. He pressed his shaft against the hot, dripping flesh of her cunt.

Damien broke the kiss. Her lower limp trembled. One hand groped her ass, but the other moved up to caress her cheek. “What’s your name, Angel?”

“Why do you care?” she demanded, arching her neck, almost inviting Damien to drink from her blood. Her nipples were hard points in his flesh. She quivered.

“Because your gorgeous,” Damien grinned. “Because I want you to be mine, Angel. You’re corrupt and soiled like me. Embrace it. Feel my cock on your pussy. Imagine it in you.”

“Aurora,” she moaned as she shuddered. Her thighs shifted, sliding her hot pussy on his cock. “You think you can claim me?”

“I have.” Damien didn’t fake his confidence. “That’s why you’re grinding that hot snatch on my cock. You want this. You are tired of being good. That’s why you burst in here with your righteous anger. You’ve broken the rules. That’s what’s soiled you.”

“The rules allow evil to triumph,” she spat. “Evil like Faust.”

Damien snarled. The memory of the vampire soiling Damien’s wife over and over while he was bound helpless to the wall burst through him. “Faust will die. We’ll kill him. Me, you, and Abigail. Unless you want to keep thrusting your sword through me. I kinda like it.”

“You are disgusting,” Aurora hissed. Her sword vanished. She stared into his eyes as she tremble,d her body on the verge of lashing out. The angel seized his face and pulled him down to her lips. Her ash wings flared behind her as she thrust her tongue into his mouth. She undulated faster, grinding her hot flesh on his dick. Her juices coated him. Aurora broke the kiss, her lips so red. “And so am I. We’ll kill Faust.”

Damien pulled Aurora down to the floor as they kissed. He didn’t mount her. He wanted the angel’s complete submission. He stretched out on the hard floor. The beating of the dance music vibrated through the wood into his back. Below, the scent of a hundred or more humans seeking to rut filled his nose.

Aurora straddled him, her pussy grinding on his cock while her large tits thrust forward. Damien licked his lips. His fangs ached to sink into her neck. He wanted to taste angelic blood while he fucked her heavenly cunt.

“Fuck me, angel slut,” Damien growled. “Grab my cock and place it into that hot snatch. Sink down on my cock and ride me. Satiate your lusts.”

Aurora rose on her sleek thighs. She grasped his dick and guided it to her pussy. She moaned in delight as she rubbed it against her hot flesh. His enhanced senses felt every fold and silky crevasse of her pussy slide along his dick.

Then she sank down on it.

“Heavenly light, yes,” gasped Aurora. Her wings flapped hard as she slid her pussy up and down his cock. Her hot flesh gripped him tight. Her breasts jiggled as she shuddered. She thrust them forward, inviting him to seize them. “What a cock.”

Damien grasped her perfect tits. He squeezed her pillowy flesh in his hands. His fingers sank in tight. Her pussy clenched and she let out a shuddering moan. He moved his fingers to her nipples, pinching them, stretching them. Hurting her.

The angel slut loved it.

“Mmm, play with my tits,” she groaned as her hips writhed. “Show me how to be wicked. Damien, your cock is wonderful. Oh, Lord, that’s good.”

Damien smiled at her blasphemy. Her pussy rippled as she savored the words. Her golden eyes lit up. She licked her lips and leaned forward. Her silver hair fell about her face as she slid her pussy faster and faster up and down his cock.

“Worship my cock with your cunt, angel slut,” groaned Damien. “Let me feel that snatch cum on my cock. Lord, you have a great pussy.”

“Angelic?” she purred.

“Fuck, yes.”

Aurora leaned over farther, dangling her tits over his lips. He could reach up and bite them, drink her blood, but he wanted to drink from her neck. She rocked on him, her head tossing and her golden eyes fluttering. Her ivory neck beckoned.

“Lord, that’s good,” she moaned. “Lord, God, Lord, I love this cock. Oh, yes. Lord, I’m going to cum on this cock.”

“Keep blaspheming, slut.”

“Yes,” she purred. “Lord, I love your cock. It’s so big, Lord. It stretches my pussy. God, yes. I’m going to cum.”

“Do it,” panted Damien. Her pussy was so tight on his dick. She was heaven as she slid her wet cunt up and down his shaft. He shuddered beneath her, eager to spill his load into her hot flesh.

But he held off. He wanted to experience all her delights when he came.

“Yes, yes, Lord, yes,” the angel cried out. Her wings flapped hard, swirling wind around the studio. Her moans were so sweet. Her pussy so hot. She slammed down his cock. “Lord, I’m cumming!”

Her pussy spasmed about his dick. She moaned and gasped, falling forward onto his chest. Her pillowy tits rubbed against his hard muscles. Her nipples caressed him as she spasmed and writhed on his cock. Damien gripped her ass, sliding her cunt up and down his dick as her orgasm spilled through her body. Her pussy massaged his cock, eager for his cum.

“Yes, yes, Lord, yes,” she moaned, turning her head and presenting her neck. “Take me, Damien.

Damien didn’t hesitate. She had surrendered. She was his now. His angel slut.

Aurora’s cunt tightened hard on Damien’s cock when he sank his teeth into her neck. She let out a moan of pure, orgasmic delight. She spasmed harder on him as another climax rocked her body. Her wings flapped harder as her blood pumped into his mouth.

Damien’s dick erupted. Her blood was so sweet. So delicious. He had never tasted its like. As he drank, he knew he had corrupted something that had once been so pure. She was only slightly stained before Damien claimed her, but with every pump of her heart, she spilled more of her blood into his mouth and she became more and more soiled.

“Lord, yes,” she screamed as her pussy milked his cumming cock.

Aurora’s blood flowed through Damien. His jaw locked. He couldn’t let go. Every time he drank her blood, his cock erupted. She gave it to him. He drank her blood, imbibing it and growing stronger. His fingernails dug into the meat of her ass as he fucked her up and down his cock.

He kept cumming.

The blood and Damien’s orgasms carried him higher and higher. He trembled as the pleasure exploded from his loins. It washed through him with powerful bliss. The ecstasy lifted him up. The music thudding from below vanished. Aurora’s heaving body fled. Only her constricting pussy milking his cock and her sweet blood remained to his senses.

Damien saw beyond this moment. He connected with something vast and ancient. It was the last ties Aurora had to Heaven. She had been an agent of Heaven, blessed with foresight of events. Gifted to know how her actions might play out and affect her targets.

She had three targets: Faust, Abigail, and Damien.

Damien ignored Faust and himself, focusing on Abigail. She knelt in a room. Her body dripped with cum. She had been used, violated, forced to be a whimpering, simpering, defanged vampiress for the amusement of humans.

For a single, clarifying moment, Damien knew exactly where his wife was.

He crashed back into his orgasming body. He released Aurora’s neck, drinking down the last of her blood as the Angel bucked and heaved above him. She rose, her wings flapping hard as she reached the peak of her orgasm.

Aurora’s wings were crimson. Stained.

“Damien, what did you do to me?” moaned Aurora. She glanced at her wings, her eyes wide with shock and horror.

“Claimed your submission,” the vampire grinned. “And you are going to help me save Abigail.” Anger boiled through him. “Right the fuck now.”

Aurora’s pussy spasmed a final time on his cock. “Yes…Sir.” Her wings fluttered as she savored the word. “Let’s save your wife, Sir.”

To be continued…

Bitter Sweet

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Cristina Ioveanu felt blessed that she had her adopted son, Florin, to tend the flock of sheep that she and her late husband, Josif, had relied upon as a source of income. His industrious ways about the farm and his cheerful manner, most of the time, she relied upon to see her way through to better times.

The family had owned the isolated farmstead with its pan-tiled roof, some five klicks from the nearest town, for generations; even through the last war, with the Germans, that had caught the Ioveanu family in its unrelenting grip.

That had been bad enough, but the Ivan’s had taken things to another level; had exercised their unrelenting control when the Iron Curtain had come down and a socialist paradise was to be constructed out of the ashes of the war. It was only in the last twenty years or so that the family had begun to really make its way and enjoy what had hitherto been a hard life on the rolling steppes; their home, a farmstead that had the mountains of Transylvania as a backdrop. It was idyllic in the warmth of spring, the heat of summer, and an unrelenting frozen wilderness in the depths of winter.

They had some hectares of undulating grassland and on this they tended a large flock of sheep; a studiously managed apple orchard that was rich in its produce, year on year; also a large stand of coniferous trees that surrendered an ample supply of wood for their fires.

Cristina’s children had left their home; sought a better paid life in a nearby town. Thus, Cristina became reliant on Florin and his devoted ways; a bond fashioned when she and Josif had adopted him.

Her strong spirit did not mean that she failed to mourn her lost man, but the strain of nursing her husband, to his end, had taken its emotional toll on her in the ensuing months and an aching sense of loneliness had taken their toll upon her.

But, now, Cristina was seen to have recovered some of her zest for life; her luxuriant auburn-red hair always neatly brushed and fastened with a jewelled clip of some kind, or a small strip of cloth; earrings always to be seen dangling and swaying; the embroidering of blouses, in the traditional styles, often worn on her fulsome body; such blouses matched by a swirling skirt wrapping her hips; concealing sturdy legs and only too functional boots often to be seen on her otherwise bare feet. She had her preferences; would do as she pleased in her home and longed to truly share again in all that life had still to offer her.

Cristina would never concede that she had been cowed by all that had befallen her.

Nothing could have prepared her for moments of aching, even crushing, loneliness that had begun to grip her as the months passed following Josif’s death. She had not known of such emptiness since the death of her third one, soon after his birth; a fragile boy. It marked the end of bearing any more children. But Florin had mended her over the years and had been dutiful.

He had returned after his military service and now, with Josif gone, she relied upon Florin to manage the farm. What he had failed to realise was that his adoptive mother had become emotionally reliant upon him; harboured feelings that Florin was to discover one night when he had returned home from hours in the company of a favoured tart and who met his needs, he thought, in every way.

¦

‘Don’t shut me out, Florin darling…not now. I’m close to you in every way…closer than ever.’

She watched him make ready for a simple lunch; the large, scrubbed wooden table set at the centre of the room; its walls decorated with pictures and plates; carvings that Florin was so adept at fashioning; bunches of dried flowers that she made and sold when the time was right. On a dresser was placed the blouses that she embroidered in the traditional gypsy ways of it in these parts.

Their place was homely; isolated, an ideal haven to harbour secrets, few as they were.

They could talk of it; had been able to do that for some time and before Josif’s death. Florin’s birth mother could not be traced; the children’s refuge where he had been cared for, until adoption, informing them that he was one of the luckier ones to have settled so well with others; that he was fortunate to have grown into the man that he was seen to be. Cristina knew it only too well.

‘There’s little chance of that happening, Cristina…me shutting you out. We will carry the memory of last night with us, wherever we go.’

‘But we will be together…’

‘Somehow…’

He took to wondering if his life would be destroyed after all that had happened between them. And yet, impulsively, Florin leaned across and kissed Cristina’s trembling lips, and to silence any reply to what he had told her.

Through the hours of the morning, he had come to realise that his situation was like the fly caught in the spider’s web. The more he struggled, with his thoughts, and continuing lustful feelings, and a gnawing sense of guilt, the tighter the bond with Cristina seemed to become; the Tipobet Güncel Giriş means of escape from the union of their bodies, now, difficult to discover and if he wished it to be so; to know that she was living alone out here not to be contemplated; the toll on them both, of him abandoning her, a price that was too high for either of them to pay.

Cristina looked at him with tear-filled eyes. She moved as he brushed them away, a softened look upon her.

‘Sorry, but we live our lives here together differently now…’

He heard it as a hope rather than a request.

‘You may be right…you may be right.’

He offered her a slow kiss and she kept it on her lips; reached out to hold his head.

‘Enough now,’ he smiled on easing from her claims on him.

Perhaps, Cristina was playing him; perhaps she knew that what they had shared would not have him feel that he was a prisoner, but an only too willing accomplice; just the two of them living in their isolated farmstead and rebuilding their lives, now that Josif had left them; he stepping into his shoes and a private place in her life; the world beyond all but oblivious to their existence and, so, to what had played out between them.

There was time for them to come to their senses.

It had happened only once, but the memory of all that had been shared would possess them for a long time.

Oh Jeez! Cristina followed him as the plates were gathered up and the table cleared; her hands tugging on his shirt to restrain him and to keep him by her; the press of her fulsome body against him and her tightened embrace that had him feel the press of her breasts against his chest; the warmth of her breaths on the skin of his throat as Cristina embraced him.

‘You know that we’re together…and like never before,’ she exclaimed.

He nodded through their raging kisses and clamp of hands to heighten their flaring, uncommonly tempestuous, embrace.

‘I’ve got to go…to make ready!’ he cried out on breaking free. ‘I have to go into town!’

‘Not alone you aren’t!’

Florin stared at her and nodded. It was futile to resist. ‘I love you…what you and Josif did for me…you know that I do, but not like this and after what happened!’

The devoted woman that he had so often seen in his stepfather’s company had revealed her passionate soul and dependency on him now. What he had known of and shared with her might, again, overwhelm them.

Florin rushed from the room without a backward glance.

¦

As the cart trundled along the road, the sheep bleating in complaint at the confined space and uncommon surroundings, Florin thought back to events of the previous night. Cristina, his adoptive mother, sat very close, her gaze falling on him and then onto the undulating road ahead. She would clutch his arm, the road’s surface often having them bump against each other, or it would have him tugging on the reins to control their progress. Then her grip would ease for an instant, only for her claims to be resumed.

Her undoubted affection for him had become an overwhelming, possessive need; his presence a confounding surrogate for all that she had lost and given no sign of seeking from him until hours ago.

Anywhere else, and if known, what had happened between them would have earned him jail time; tamping the woman beside him; to the cops she was his mother; their tryst, following a moment’s loss of control, should have been avoided; could have been avoided; he was a strong young man, for sure, but a man who had been seduced by her prevailing ways; a man driven on by his feral impulses; actions that he had never known of before, even during his service in the army. He had broken all the rules, and that even their isolated life could not fully excuse or get close to explaining.

But this careworn woman, Cristina, as she had demanded he now think of as being with him…she had moments of taking to the bottle, mostly after a busy working day and with quieter hours of the weekend ahead. At such times, he had shouldered the burdens that working the farm demanded of them both.

What had been shared was a perversion of all that was family; but in the aftermath she had confessed to suffering in silence from an aching loneliness; yet knowing that drink was not the answer. It cured nothing, and the effects of the booze only made her sadder still; had led her to pursuing errant behaviour that he should not have conceded to. He had been complicit in its fulfilment and, possibly, continuation.

His baser instincts had been aroused as never before. He toiled with the thought of all that had been conceded to and then pursued.

He had touched a voluptuous body; known of heated ways and a brutal passion for a woman; actions that could never be undone. He had shared in ardent loving that this auburn-haired seductress beside him, with her slender face and keen eyes, had aroused in him. Just where was he to go with the knowledge of what had passed between Tipobet Giriş them?

‘I just want a moment’s company,’ she had told him last night; her discreet knock on the door, to his cramped room almost filled by his bed, waking him from fitful sleep. He had taken in the mixture of alcohol on her breath and the unmistakable scent of some cologne she had chosen to put on, for some reason, and that only became clear when she had sought to claim him, later.

Cristina met a snatched look upon her. ‘What’s that for?’

‘That you look nice…in your embroidered blouse and headscarf…your skirt covers your legs…you’re also wearing shoes as you do when you dance…not those awful working boots.’

He knew that his voice was conciliatory, that it now held the soft tone of admiration. There were moments when the beauty of a younger woman could still be seen on her face. It accompanied her undoubted vitality; working on the farm bestowing strength that he had soon learned of as never before.

‘They all hide what is going on inside me…’ Cristina confessed and gripped his arm tightly. ‘Florin, darling, it is difficult for me too…living with what we have done…and, what I asked of you.’ She leant in to offer a kiss to his rough cheek. ‘I would like you to shave, occasionally, please? It makes you look so much younger…and even more handsome.’

‘But, old enough to…’ he growled.

The woman beside him sought to find the words to justify what had passed between them; acts that he had been seduced into pursuing with her.

‘Be still, my darling…I thought it through, long ago,’ she said before looking away; her face lifted to the sun, but her grip on his arm as fierce as before. She had wanted him; had ached for that strong young body and what he had then brought to her. She had felt that from him; had sensed it in him; had discovered it with him. ‘Love comes in so many ways…’

‘But not like that…between us,’ he retorted and on a gentle slap of the reins on the mule’s flanks. So, she had thought to ask it of him for some time. He realised again that he shouldered the burden of what had happened as much as she did.

‘We’ll see, my darling Florin…we’ll see how love goes.’

Cristina had crept into his room and, before he could say anything on it, she had settled on the edge of his bed; soon confessing that she had sipped on more than was wise that evening, and after he had gone to bed; but she was far from being ‘out of her face’ on drink.

‘Just a little sad, again…I suppose?’ he had ventured.

That, and the drink, had been the start of the trouble; had lessened any remaining inhibitions on her part and that he had shamefully taken advantage of…he now supposed. Cristina had explained it all.

‘Yes, sad, and it’s at times like that when I want company. I won’t stay long…’

‘It’s okay…’

‘Is it…is it okay, really?’ she had asked, uncertainly, but still moving closer on the mattress beside him and resting her back against the wall, just as he had done; her boy all but naked to her wondering gaze. The dim light from the small table lamp, in the hallway, had cast an eerie glow on the walls of his room, through the open door. ‘I get moments of missing him…’

‘I know. I get to thinking of him too…how we used to work together. They come to me when I least expect them…’

‘Do you?’ she had exclaimed, her movements tightening a thin nightdress over her body; the hem sliding up and over her thighs; the bodice revealing the drooping swell of her breasts; the curve of her softly rounded belly. ‘You always were the most sensitive one…out of my three. You went through so much…before we brought you here.’

‘Yeah,’ he had replied on a soft laugh of acknowledgment. ‘It also got me into trouble in the army at times…always having to prove myself.’

‘You don’t have to do that with me…and I always worried for you, then, when you were away from me.’

She had looked at him across the narrow space between them; had seen the strength in his arms and torso. Her ‘son’ was strong, nicely shaped, and he kept it that way. Cristina saw his wondering look cast over her. ‘I can’t stay long or we’ll both get cold…’

‘We know how it can be when it is…cold, here.’

Cristina now met a moment’s appraisal of her body as she moved; wondered how she could not have noticed such a stilled look from him before. Her blood offspring had lived in a converted outhouse until her two eldest had left her and following Josif’s death. Her undoubted favourite, so different in temperament from her own, had stayed true to her and become a choice comforter in strained times. She felt an ache for him…a man…in her belly; knew the tightening of muscles in her throat as if she struggled to get her breath. Florin did, and said, nothing to persuade her to leave his side.

‘Josif always said I was too warm blooded to be a farmer’s wife…’

‘But it worked out…’

‘Yes…until…until, Tipobet you know?’

Cristina reached for his hand that nervily clutched the thin sheet on his bed, close to touching the bare skin of her leg. She moved until it did so.

‘Mother…Cristina…just don’t.’ The surprising grip of her hand on his keeps him from moving away. ‘I…I know you’re lonely…cold…that the drink you’ve had may…’

Florin meets her silencing stare.

‘I’m lonely and, yes, I am cold!’ she snaps. ‘Yes, you are company for me, and it feels cosier in here than in my room… where I’m alone. Just let me get warm…let me get under the sheet for a moment or two…lie here beside you?’

‘What! No…no, you can’t do that!’

He sits bolt upright as Cristina moves so that the sheet can be pulled away, enough for her to settle underneath it. She puts a restraining hand to his bare thigh; just her touch is enough to set his pulse racing; to feel the warmth of her thigh against his skin arouses destructive imaginings of what may follow. He pushes at his hardening prick; squirms away as best as he can as he feels her heat so close to him.

‘It’s snug and warm…and I have company,’ she murmurs. Cristina has a wondering smile on her lips and a softened, questioning look of her eyes upon him. ‘You’ve always been the attentive one…your new father, Josif, he always said that of you.’

‘Josif wasn’t my father…and don’t bring him into this!’ he says trying to move away, but she detains him; offers caresses to his chest and belly but stops short in her progress. ‘Cristina!’

‘I’m…I’m here…and I’m feeling warmer…more settled. Thank you…’ Before he can stop her, Cristina slides her hands over his belly; moves to kiss his cheek. As he looks her way, she presses her lips to his mouth; meets his startled look upon her. ‘You’ve been a good man to me…in…in everything else that I ask of you.’

‘What…what you’re doing now…is…is…it’s not normal,’ he stammered, his shame at what was happening only to be matched by the growing swell in his underpants; her slow clamps upon it inflaming his senses.

Florin has listened, but Cristina’s…his stepmother’s…this woman’s breasts are pushing against his bare skin and the soft warmth of her thigh is now to be felt caressing his legs. A woman is pursuing him and here in his own bed. Trips to a nearby town, and the ministrations of a favoured tart, are nothing to what he is now beginning to feel. The fabric of his briefs is being stretched…all on account of the mental and physical stimuli that the woman in his bed is bringing to him and…and that she now shows every sign of seeking to ardently pursue with him.

‘Mother…don’t…don’t…this is crazy!’

He feels her hot breaths on his lips; meets the wondering look of her eyes on him.

‘Cristina…not mother in that sense…and I know…and I can feel the turmoil in you…as there is in me now, Florin, darling! We’re together here…just the two of us. Who is to know?’

‘We will! Don’t…and we shouldn’t be like this! No…don’t!’

‘Don’t be embarrassed to show me what you feel…for a woman…she who is here in bed…beside you.’ Cristina’s voice coaxes in warm whispers of breath to his face; her hand has moved to clamp on the swell of his prick and works it in slow moves; seeking to coax him to abandon any remaining restraint. ‘I…I have wondered…if you find relief…living alone out here and only with me for company.’

‘No…not in the way that you mean!’

‘Good…but…but you could have me now…and…no one would know.’

Her questing touches have found their way under the waist band of his pants. Cristina brazenly moves to kiss his belly; she then squirms to sit on him, her hands on his chest as she bends down to him, provoking and certain.

‘Cristina…just you slow down! No…no, wait!’

‘Undress me!’ she commands hoarsely.

‘Cristina! This is madness…what you ask of me!’

Her movements have cast the sheet away and he does as she asks; her hands claiming him; stroke his chest and her fingers pinching his nipples. He grabs the hem of Cristina’s night-dress and is soon urged to kiss the tumble of her naked breasts as the garment is pulled over her body and they are fully exposed to his gaze and touch; for him to suck on Cristina’s nipples as she gropes him; squeezes his length and sac until he can bear it no more; seeks to twist away from her wanton and aberrant claims upon him.

‘Cristina…Cristina…don’t…no more!’ he gasps on quickening breaths. He wants her. He knows how destructive it would be to claim her. ‘We can’t do this! We can’t…doing this is madness.’

‘No one will know…so don’t say anything!’ she hissed in reply. ‘Just go on…go on!’ she calls out, not wanting him to stop in what she has prevailed upon him to do.

Her hands hold his head in encouragement, and to have him resume in his delighting of her; to move from one breast to the other as she groaned in her rediscovered pleasure of a man being taken to her; dug her fingers into his shoulders as he pressed his questing mouth to her skin; felt his fingers brush the hair at her cleft and then enter her body; soon part soft wet lips and offer awkward, but deepening caresses.