DISCLAIMER: The following is fiction. The content of the story is not representative of the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote any unlawful activity such as is depicted in the story. By continuing to read this work you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may play different ages for the fictional character that they are depicting but they remain at all times adults. All Rights Reserved © 2023 LITTLESALLY666.
STORY CODES: Historical (70s), Incest, Voyeurism, Abuse, Blasphemy, Devil Worship, Sodomy, WS, Androgyny, Vodou, Black Magic, Cross-dressing, Young Ones.
CREATED: 01.10.2020 / REVISITED: 18.08.2023
EVIL TAROT – ABOUT THE LOVERS TAROT
The Lovers Tarot is charged with sexual energies. Though the image itself is one of nudity, it disguises itself beneath a layer of chastity and the innocence before sexual sin — because the sin is omnipresent but is yet to be It is the image before the fall. They are naked before an angel and without shame, they make no effort to conceal their genitalia. The story of the Garden of Eden is about attraction and passion that eventually leads to inevitable corruption and carnal wickedness. The serpent is the pagan cupid but is also the embodiment of Satan. And it is under the Tree of Knowledge that the serpent seduces Eve. What is not so well known is that, under Satan’s influence, Eve falls for the temptation of incest and lusts for and fornicates with her own children.
SYNOPSIS OF THE LOVERS
It’s May 1975. Jerry and Nancy are lovers. They are both servants of Satan and indulge in each other’s most perverted fantasies. They are also, mother and son. But who instigated this incestuous relationship? Who was the abuser and who was abused? The lines are blurred. Both seem to have been on their own lustful journey to find the Devil’s temptations. This is their story.
CHARACTERS OF THE LOVERS
Jerry Preston – Our protagonist, cross-dresser, incestuous, bisexual, 11
Jesus Rossi – Jerry’s school friend, effeminate, cross-dresser, bisexual, 11
Nancy Preston – Jerry’s mother, pervert, pedophile, incestuous, 32
Sonny Preston – Jerry’s father, sadist, deceased, religious, 47
Ayida – African mambo, next-door neighbor, pervert, bisexual, 30
Ghede – African, daughter of Ayida, named after sex demon (loa), 9
LOVERS — CHAPTER ONE (3,118 WORDS)
“If a boy takes a woman, who art his mother, it is depravity; he and they shall be burned with all the fiery of hell’s fire, so that there may be no depravity among you.“ — Leviticus chapter 20 verse 14.
When did I notice that Jerry was different? Well, I would guess it was in the spring of 1975. Jerry Fredrick Preston was my only child. It was about the time he turned eleven years old. He was always a smart kid. Bright, you know. Picked up things real fast. His father, Sonny Preston, God rest his soul, was a deeply religious man. Righteous and all. He had a particular way of doing things. And he had a temper. It was rather harrowing sometimes. He was always quoting scriptures. He had an answer for everything. And Jerry … well, Jerry was sometimes affected by his father. But as I was saying, Jerry would have been about eleven when his father died and that’s when I really started to notice things. If you know what I mean.
He’d always been a creative kid. Making things. Drawing things. And I had always kept a close eye on him. He didn’t know that I spied on him. Or if he did, he never let on. I was a young mother. Still only thirty-two at the time when Sonny died. Sonny was much older than me. He swore by the old ways. My marriage was arranged thing by my parents who were sympathetic to his views. I never really loved him. He only had sex on Saturday night — with the lights off. Missionary position. I swear it. He’d fuck me for five minutes and cum. And that would be it. He’d fall asleep.
Yes. Of course, I had cravings. But all that talk about the sinning ways of non-believers. It kind of freaked me out, while he was around. But, when he left for work — especially in the days when Jerry was just a toddler. That’s a different story.
Dad beat me with the belt. He said that I had to learn that God punishes the wicked. I cannot even remember what I’d done wrong at the time. He was mumbling sometimes about disciplining the sinful.
I think he was quoting Proverbs 13 “Whoever spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him is diligent to discipline him.”
I hated the old fucking bastard. I hated God. I hated the church. I hated the priest. Father Lewis was another bastard. They were all bastards. When my father died, I wasn’t sad at all. For appearances, I made it look like I was upset. The grieving son. But to tell you the truth, I thought we were better off without him. He didn’t treat Mom badly — he just didn’t treat her well — if you know what I mean.
After his death, Mom was always watching me. I think she believed that I never knew. But I did. She even had a secret peephole in the wall, so she could watch me sleeping at night. Only, I know that’s not all she saw. I know it sounds kind of twisted, but I wanted her to watch over me. I would purposefully linger naked in my room. I would sometimes even have a boner. I knew she’d be watching.
Yes. It’s true. I did have a peephole installed in the bedroom wall. At first, I told myself that it was to keep a close watch over things. To make sure he was safe. But I knew it was a lie. You see, he kept a secret sketchbook. It was hidden away in the space beneath the bottom drawer in his clothes chest. I told you, he was talented, He drew like an artist. Talented beyond his years. I always encouraged him. He liked to draw dragons, serpents, and mythical creatures. They were really good.
But in his secret sketchbook, he draw pictures of naked demons and devils — they would have horns upon their heads, with animal faces. Like goats and pigs. With female breasts and large erect penises. He would draw images of many young boys, not unlike himself. They would all be naked and dancing around these sex demons. Their little boy’s penises were erect with excitement. They would be masturbating; fornicating with each other; sodomizing each other in the worship of this strange androgynous creature. Performing all kinds of perverted acts.
When I first discovered them, I was shocked. I was shaken. But excited. The images made me wet. A burning fire rose within me that must be stoked. I masturbated myself looking at them. The images he drew were perverted and evil. I wondered if it had been something that I had done to turn him away from God. Had I been responsible for his young mind being inspired to this depraved kind of darkness?
Mom was very encouraging of my artistic ability. I didn’t really have many friends. I was not a popular kid at school. Most of the boys loved science, technology, or sports. I hated all these kinds of things and kept to myself. I was small for my age and probably one of the youngest in my class. I would often be teased as a nerd and bullied because I couldn’t fight back.
My father once accused me of touching myself. I was about ten years old at the time and had yet to discover what that meant. He beat me hard with the belt, saying that playing with my penis was a mortal sin, that stroking yourself was one of the worse sins — that masturbation was the Devil’s playground. It was a defining moment. A light bulb went on. It made us very curious. If it was such a wicked and sinful thing to touch my penis, then maybe I should know more about it.
That night the house was quiet. I lay in bed nursing my sore bottom. The stinging sensation actually made me think about my father’s contention while he hit me.
“Abstain from immorality! Keep thy body in holiness! Not in the passion of lust like the demons!”
There was something of a spark in his choice of words about immorality, lust, and demons! With those thoughts, I began to play with myself. It felt weird at first — I touched my boy-size cock and made it hard. This wasn’t something I hadn’t felt before, usually, my penis got hard in the mornings before I got up to pee. But this time it felt different — he’d used the word “stroking” and that’s exactly what I started to do. I stroked my tight little foreskin back and forth as I thought about the demons watching my sin. I liked it. I liked it a lot.
Of course, I felt guilty about it. My husband, Sonny, would have been mortified. Maybe part of me would have loved to shove this right under Sonny’s righteous fucking nose. Fuck him. Fuck Christianity. What did he ever do for me? Luckily the life insurance paid for everything and left me and Jerry enough to live modestly without me having to take a job.
When did I begin to imagine having sex with my son? Oh, that would have started very early in his boyhood. I was very frustrated. I felt horny all the time. I didn’t even realize there was such a thing as pedophilia. And in those days, it wasn’t such a big deal. I mean in the seventies you could legitimately buy child porn (which I did — but that came a little later). But, right from the days of breastfeeding. Having him suckle my milk-filled breasts always brought me to orgasm. That beautiful little mouth suckling upon my erect nipples.
Fuck, it turned me on. I was so wet. Sonny was clueless. And when he was away at work, I would make time to play with little Jerry. I would make sure that we were both naked and of course, I would be touching myself — fingering my wet cunt until I came. Bath time was also an orgasmic masturbatory experience. Playing in the bath water and having his hard little naked body near me always got me so fucking hot.
The first time I experimented with stroking myself, I had fallen asleep. I had been in my bed. It was late and I guess, I just drifted off. The second night was very different. I excused myself early after dinner. Mom was watching television. Some comedy show called “Are You Being Served”. Upstairs in my bedroom, I could still hear the sound of the television downstairs, so I kind of figured that I wouldn’t be disturbed. I stripped naked and lay on my bedspread.
My cock was already rock hard and I grabbed my rigid shaft, enjoying the sensation with my tight grip. I closed my eyes and imagined that I was being stroked by one of my classmates. His name was Jesus. It’s kind of common for Italian families. The irony was that Jesus and I talked about demons on a few occasions and I got this sexual vibe from him. We had immediately become best friends.
So, as I imagined Jesus masturbating my little boy’s cock, his pretend hand moved faster and faster. Fuck it felt incredible. I was out of breath with this growing pleasure. Jesus stroked me faster and faster, as he blasphemed …
”Fuck God, fuck Christ, fuck Mary.”
Without any warning, my entire body began to physically convulse — then my cock exploded — semen flew out of the end of my cock, across my chest and face. I was covered in clear, watery boy semen that had splashed over my chin and lips. I tasted its slightly salty taste. Mmmmm. I lay there for a while, trying to get my breath back. Fuck. It felt incredible. I had felt nothing like it before — If this was Satan’s gift, I wanted to bow down before Satan right there and then.
I reached over to the floor and grabbed white cotton Y-fronts and used them to wipe my face and chest.
Did I ever have an affair? No. It’s not that I did not want to or didn’t think about it. I did. I fancied both men and women. Boys and girls. And the sixties and seventies were also the time of a sexual revolution. I was very attracted to Ayida, my next-door neighbor. The exotic African woman was about the same age as me, maybe a little younger. She wore sexy tribal clothing and smelt of niggers. She had gorgeous long Afro hair. It was blue-black with a blunt fringe in the front.
Ayida was also a single mother, with a young daughter called Ghede. Both of them were a delicious nigger color. After we’d got to know each other better, we talked about her sexy little daughter, Ayida, and she confessed that she was named after a Vodou sex loa (demon). I was interested to know more about her religion and Ayida said she was a mambo. I told her that I was very interested in the occult, witchcraft, and black magic. She smiled with bright white teeth and said that we must get together sometime.
I did want to find out what it would be like to have sex with a nigger — I guess I really was keen on fucking this black priestess (and her nine-year-old daughter) but never acted upon it while Sonny was alive.
Art was the way that I expressed myself. After my father died, I would spend all my time in my bedroom drawing. I kept a masturbation journal of my most private thoughts and in it I explored all manner of taboo subjects that made me sexually excited. While the other boys at school talked about the girls they liked — about girls’ tits, bums, and pussies — I thought about sex with demons. Of course, Jesus and I would share a few pictures that we had carefully torn from library books. he found an image of what he called the Baphomet that had the sexual organs of both a man and a woman. To me, it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
We never talked about our sexual preferences. It was kind of like an unspoken thing between us. I think, back then, we were both a bit scared to tell all — both waiting for the other to make a move. But, by then I pretty much knew that I wasn’t really interested in any of the girls in my class. I was more into boys and androgyny; more into sexual perversity; more into the taboo things that would be morally abhorrent in the eyes of the Abrahamic God.
To be sinful was to be exciting. Imagining the most evil and depraved got me excited. I loved to fantasize about Devil worship, arcane rituals, inverted crosses, black candles, and the Missa Niger — all peppered with orgies of cock-sucking, anilingus, sodomy, piss-drinking, and scat.
On occasions, when I was feeling particularly vile — I would spice it up with rape rituals, sexual torture, bestiality, blood sacrifices, even castration and cannibalism. To me, the Devil was twin-sexed — Baphometic, transgender, hermaphroditic — which spawned my interest in cross-dressing.
As Jerry got a little older, of course, I had to curb these deviant desires. He was a smart boy and I really worried about him saying something untoward to Sonny. The church community would have had a field day if they only knew half of it. By that time, I hated church. Hated the fucking nosy women who thought they had a right to pry about your life. Confession was a joke. The priest, Father Lewis, was a dirty pervert. I swear. He always asked leading questions about sexual sin and Lucifer. Of course, I pretended to be naive — as if I did know what the hell he was alluding to.
Satan wasn’t really part of my life back then. It was really my relationship with Jerry that sparked an interest in Devil worship. But we’ll get to that later.
So there was the day that I found his underwear. He’d forget to pick up his dirty clothing and put them in the laundry basket. It was washing day and Jerry had gone off to school on time as usual. Very punctual, he was. I was already feeling very horny and when I found his dirty underwear, I got an extra thrill. Usually, I got off smelling his underwear, sucking at the piss stains, or licking the brownish skid marks in the back. But on this occasion, he’d used his white cotton pants to wipe up his semen. It was a treasure trove. Satan be praised! I swear, tasting his semen brought me the most delicious of orgasms. I must have cum half a dozen times.
I wasn’t sure if this was because of a wet dream or masturbation. As shameful as it sounds, after this discovery, I made sure to watch closely at my peephole every night.
So, I kind of knew that my mother was spying on me. I found the spy hole in her bedroom, that shared a common wall with mine. When she was out shopping, I entered her room. I was going through her underwear draws while I masturbated. She had these big mirrors on the wardrobe doors in her bedroom. And I loved to watch myself stroke my own cock. I was in the process of wrapping her stockings around my cock and balls. The sheer fabric felt so nice. She had garters and other lingerie, but I was too small for them.
There I was masturbating myself using her stockings when I noticed the spy hole. Usually, there was a large crucifix hanging on the wall in that exact spot. But today, the cross was on the floor, leaning up against the wall. She must have taken it down and forgotten to put it back. My heart rate shot up. What had she seen? I climbed up on a chair and look through the spy hole that gave her a one-hundred-eighty-degree view of my bedroom. My bed was a secondhand bunk bed and from the angle, it would have been hard to see exactly what was happening in low light.
So, I guess that night I knew she would be watching. But for some reason, I didn’t care. Maybe I was even turned on by the fact that she was watching me through her dirty little spy hole. I had stripped naked and hung a red translucent cloth over my table lamp — it made the whole room appear devilishly red. My lithe body glowed in the red light. My cock was hard and pointing toward the ceiling. I wore a pair of devil horns (from Halloween). I took out my secret masturbation journey and turned to an image that I had drawn of the Baphomet. I had paid special attention to making sure that the twin serpents encircled its enormous erect cock. It looked vulgar and demonic.
Earlier that day, I had made my own makeshift drum track using my tape recorder and my fingers on an empty upside-down tin. With this I recorded myself strumming out a pagan beat that began slowly and got progressively faster and faster.
I would whisper in the recording the word, “Sacrifice to the Devil,” softly every now and then.
As my drumming intensified in its pace, so did my demands for a “sacrifice’ as my voice became louder and louder.
I switched on my homemade pagan chanting track and I stood up. I made sure I was clearly facing the spy hole. I gripped my cock with my right hand and fingered my anus with my left. I started stroking slowly to the beat of my drumming.
I pretended to pray to the Baphomet as I thrust my hips back and forth to the beat and my whispers of, “Sacrifice to the Devil,” — as the beat got faster, my hand match the pace, thrusting my baby foreskin up and down my drooling cock. I felt so wicked. It feel unsavory — knowing that my mother was watching. The beat began to reach its crescendo. I could hear my voice on the recording crying out for a “Sacrifice to the Devil,” and then I began to convulse again.
As I orgasmed, I swear I hear a muffled groan from behind the wall. My semen spurted upwards over myself. I was gasping. I scooped up my semen and eat it looking directly at the spy hole.
LOVERS – CHAPTER TWO (2,416 WORDS)
“Flee, I say, from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own flesh and blood.” — 1 Corinthians chapter 6 verse 18.
Jerry didn’t have many friends when he was young. When he first went to secondary school, he must have been the youngest and smallest in his class. I think the other boys might have bullied him because he was a bit of a pansy — but he never said anything about it. He did have one friend. Another boy, not so dissimilar to himself. His name was Jesus. There was some irony in that boy’s name. His family was deeply religious. Like Jerry’s father. Maybe they weren’t as mean to him, but he was quite effeminate. A delicate boy. Straight away, I could see Jerry’s attraction to him. I was attracted to the young boy too. My gutter mind went straight to my eager, wet cunt.
The first time I met Jesus Rossi was when Jerry asked him over for a sleepover. It wasn’t that Jerry had one before — because he hadn’t. This was the first. Anyway, I said the boy could stay over as long as his parents were all right with it. Jerry said they were, as they knew we were a good Christian family who regularly went to church. They knew that Jerry’s father had passed away and that I was now a single mom.
Jerry was very excited about it. He wanted everything to be just right. I promised to serve up the boy’s favorite food — fish and chips wrapped in newspaper. That wasn’t difficult, as I just went down to the local and picked up enough for the three of us. Jesus was very polite.
“Hello, Mrs Preston. Yes, Mrs Preston. Thank you, Mrs Preston.”
“Please call me Nancy.”
I liked him straight away. He was small, petite, and delicate of bones. While Jerry had sandy blond hair and freckles — Jesus had short spiky black hair and olive skin. My pussy was wet just imagining the two of them fornicating.
Did I encourage them? Hell yes. I had installed a lock on Jerry’s door, so he would feel more private in his space. I loved to watch him masturbate. I had bought him a standing mirror and these two demonic masks (that cover the eyes and nose) that he’d liked (saying that they could be for Halloween) — I knew the real reason all along. I’d bought him a gift voucher from the music store and noticed how he’d used it to buy tapes of this strange Gothic rock, Neo-medieval, and pagan rock stuff. When I would hear his music playing, it was a cue that he’d be masturbating before his mirror.
Jesus said “yes” to my invitation for a sleepover. I was so excited about it. I couldn’t wait. Of course, I kept telling myself, not to get carried away and I was genuinely afraid of rejection. But, I thought it best to let things happen — if they were meant to be. I prayed to Satan, every night.
The Rossi family, like my father, were very repressive. They went to the same local church, like three times a week. And the fact that Jesus was supposed to go to evening mass on the night of our sleepover, seemed to be a major victory for Jesus. He hated God as much as me. He said that his parents never beat him, but instead as a punishment, they made him kneel on uncooked rice with his hands extended in a crucifix position facing the cross. They said, his namesake has taken away the sins of the world and that he needed to love God’s only son. Fuck that.
So after our fish-and-chip dinner, Mom suggested that we go upstairs and play. I swear she was like, trying too hard to encourage us. Jesus asked me about her. He said that he thought my mom was cool — not like his stupid fucked-up-god-fearing parents. I agreed. I told him how my father beat me and said that I should never commit sins of the flesh.
“And did you?” he asked.
I had been very particular about what I wanted to wear for Jerry’s sleepover. I know what you are thinking — it had nothing to do with me — it should have been all about my son and his queer bum-chum, Jesus. But fuck. I didn’t want to look like some frumpy middle-aged mother who had let herself go. I overheard Jesus whispering to Jerry, that he thought I was hot. That got me wet again. But I pretended not to hear their conversation and left to make a fuss in the kitchen.
So, Jerry kissed me, after he arrived back from school, as he usually did. On the lips, of course. I had encouraged this behavior. It took some restraint not to hold the back of his head and plunge my tongue into his hot little mouth. I know what you’re going to say. Yes, it was wrong. My motivations were not that of a loving parent. But that of a lust demon. To my surprise, Jesus did the same. They both giggled like little girls. Girls with little cocks. I was wet as usual.
I had been masturbating in Jerry’s bedroom, peeping at his secret journal — it was so pornographic. He was slowly, but surely, luring me into his dark little world. He drew more delicious images of young girlie boys in training bras, suspender belts, and stockings. There were images of them posing with their penises erect. Then there were more, with them rubbing their erections against one another. More with them sucking cock. The final ones showed them both urinating over each other. A drawing showing two yellow fountains drenching each other. Fuck that made me cum hard. I wanted the taste of piss in my mouth (tonight I promised myself I would drink lots of dark coffee and fill a glass with nasty yellow piss to drink while I watched my son).
I deliberately hadn’t washed my fingers after fingering myself and I used them to hand out the fish and chips to the two boys. It gave me a naughty kick to know my dirty cunt juice was all over their food — the fishier the better.
It was immediately after dinner that I told them both to go upstairs and play in Jerry’s bedroom. Jerry went bright red. I could see what he was thinking about — and the boner in his school shorts confirmed my suspicions. The two boys clambered up the wooden staircase as I watched them.
Jerry and Jesus went upstairs to Jerry’s bedroom. As I heard the lock close behind them, I went into my bedroom and locked my door too. I undressed quickly and removed the stupid crucifix that covered my secret spy hole. I was feeling very horny. My cunt was already wet with my juices. My fingers slid so easily into my hot wet cunt, as I looked into my son’s bedroom. I pissed into a tall champagne flute and sipped my salty piss. Jerry had already covered the bed lamp with his red translucent cloth — so that the bedroom glowed with a dim reddish hue. I could them sitting on the edge of the bunk bed as they talked to one another.
Mom had dressed nicely for the occasion in one of her sexy halterneck tops that showed off her lily-white skin, small bubble breasts, and slender neck. I loved the way she tied back her strawberry blond hair into a single ponytail — I swear, she looked sixteen.
I kissed my mom on the lips as she always encouraged me to do; and to my complete surprise, Jesus kissed her lips too. He whispered that I had never told him that my mother was hot. I laughed — but I guess, it was true. She did look hot — for a girl. I was too focused on fucking Jesus. Oh, I wanted his cock so badly. I had masturbated, non-stop, thinking about all the nasty things I wanted to do with him. It got a little overwhelming and I had to prepare myself for the situation – just in case nothing transpires.
Mom had got Jesus his favorite food. He kept complimenting her on her makeup and clothing. It was funny. I never really looked at my mom that way, until then. He asked me what it was like having such a hot sexy mom. Jesus made me think about nasty things like incest.
After our fish and chip dinner, Mom told us to go and play upstairs. It sounded so unassuming. So innocent. But I knew differently. Jesus smiled so sweetly and we grabbed our heavy school bags and went upstairs. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw my mom at the bottom of the stair, luring up at the pair of us. She had a crooked smile on her lips.
I nervously showed Jesus my small bedroom. He said it was nice. He said that he had to share a room with his younger sister; and that there was no privacy in his house. I wondered what it would be like to have a sister — to be able to try on her underwear and clothing.
My mom had made both bunks up for the night. But of course, I had other ideas. Though I really didn’t want to assume anything and embarrass myself. If the other boys at school knew that I was a poofter, I would get seriously beaten up.
I locked the bedroom door. It was still early evening, but Jesus suggested we change out of our sweaty school clothes and into our loose pajamas. My penis was already straining from its erection and I began to panic about how to undress without Jesus seeing how sexually excited I was. That’s when I noticed that I was not the only one having a problem in that department. To my utter amazement. Jesus pulled down his shorts and underwear. His little pricklet stood completely upright, like a brown bullet. He didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything. I just pulled down my own shorts and underwear to reveal my three inches of cock flesh. My foreskin was drawn back down my cock shaft, exposing my cock’s blood-red helmet.
Jesus smiled and moved closer. We stood face-to-face. Our little cocks twitched between us. He touched my face with his soft effeminate hand. He daintily stroked my dirty blond hair and leaned his weight against me — so that the wet tips of our cocks touched each other. I nervously smiled back and then we kissed.
Now, looking through the spy hole I could see them both inside. My breath was short and panting as I drank my heady piss and frigged myself faster and faster.
I watched as they kissed each other. They had both removed their shorts and underwear and from the angle of the spy hole, it looked like their genitals were pressed against each other. They separated briefly to undress and then both of them climbed onto the lower bunk, laying down face-to-face. They began to kiss again, while their hands played with each other’s genitals.
Jerry turned on the bedding so that they were now facing each other’s groins. Jerry took his child-cock into his mouth, sucking it greedily, while his fingers probed Jesus’ anus. The same was true for Jesus, as his head lowered over my son’s cock, sucking him and stroking his tiny hairless nut-sacks.
By this time, I already had three fingers deep in my cunt as I watched their perverted little kiddy sex show. I wished I could have taken pictures. It was the sexiest thing, I’d ever seen.
I don’t know how long we kissed, touched, and sucked each other. Jesus was more effeminate than I was, so I kind of adopted the male role. Though I would have been equally happy bringing out my inner girl. If Jesus wanted me to fuck him. I would do anything he asked. I never wanted this to end.
We began to masturbate with each other in earnest. I loved the feeling of his delicate fingers wrapped tightly around my little boy’s cock. He stroked me in a broken rhythm — fast, fast, slow, slow, fast, slow — my precum flowed over his fingers, lubricating his efforts to make me cum.
I confessed that I had had the hots for him since we’d started school. I told him that I had been scared to make a move on him; that I was worried about rejection. He kissed me deeply, pushing his tongue as far as it would go, into my receptive mouth. Breaking the long kiss, he said that he had felt the same. He said that he had prayed that something would happen between us. Prayed to who, I asked. The Devil, of course — the patron saint of little cock-sucking queer boys. We laughed.
I had never told Jesus about my secret sketchbook until this point. I had been in two minds about it — as I didn’t want to scare him away. Lately, my fantasies had become even more extreme and I really was worried about what he would think of me. In school, we’d passed a number of remarks that had led me to believe that he would be open to such things. We had even defaced some of the library’s most precious publications, cutting out demonic images for our own devices. It was Jesus that had told me about the Baphomet. Despite my fears, something gnarled away at me inside to just do it — to be reckless was so exhilarating. He’d called the Devil — the patron saint of queer boys — that was us. Me and him.
So when I said that I had something to show him. He was excited by my fear, saying that there was nothing about me, that he couldn’t adore. So, took my sketchbook out of its secret hiding place and hesitatingly showed Jesus. He turned the pages slowly and paused at each of my penciled visions of Devil worship, of satanic orgies rituals to transgendered demons, of an assortment of debaucheries and blasphemous scenes.
”You have a wonderful talent,” he said, “You and I, are made for each other. I love what you envisioned — I want you to sodomize me and make me yours!”
LOVERS – CHAPTER THREE (3,198 WORDS)
“And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him.” — Revelation chapter 12 verses 9.
After the sleepover, things changed around the house. I began to act upon impulses that I would have normally been ashamed of. Maybe it was liberating. Maybe I thought, sometimes, that I had lost my mind. I was caught up in it. Like whirlwind. That there was a demon loose in my head and my body — telling me to do unnatural and deviant things to myself and others. These things creep up on you. They started small and progressively got more and more daring — darker and darker. I loved the feeling of my own depravity. I was a total pervert. It was something that I knew from a young age and now I was caught up in this whirlpool.
One of the first things I did was visit a sex shop. Not a local one, I took the bus some distance away. There were a couple I looked up in the phone book. I had never ventured into a sex shop before. Sonny, damn his soul, would turn in his grave.
Once inside the seedy place, I tried to relax, but as I thumbed through the racks of porn magazines about BDSM, lesbianism, transsexuals, pissing, bestiality, and incest — my heart was thumping loudly in my ears. There were a few other patrons in the store, milling around in their private thoughts and anonymity — everyone kept to themselves. And as I browsed I was amazed to find over a hundred titles of Danish child porn. My mouth was dry with shocked exhilaration, I could feel the blood pumping in my neck and my cunt literally dribbled with excitement. They were all sealed in plastic covers, but the content was obvious from the cover picture. There were pictures of naked young ones; men with boys; women with young girls; and mothers and sons. I made a selection and paid in cash.
Armed with my plain brown paper bag of delicious delinquency, I made my way home. On the bus, a young girl sat next to me. I wondered what she would do if I were to empty the contents of my shoulder bag in front of her — I imagined sucking her little cunny. It gave me a stab of deviant pleasure in my moist cunt.
I reached home. My cunt was throbbing painfully. It wanted to be played with. The house was empty. Jerry was still at school at this hour. I was alone with my treasure trove of perversity. I immediately went upstairs and locked myself in my bedroom. Striping naked, I emptied the plain paper bag onto the bed. Just looking at the perverted titles and cover images sent my mind its a trance — my mind was ripe with Satan’s temptations.
I had purchased far more than I had intended and spent a small fortune in the process. There were two titles on transsexuals; two on pissing; two on incest; but six more on kiddy sex. I started with the kiddy porn. I open each title with a sense of reverence as if studying a forbidden scripture. I fingered my cunt as slowly as I could — and though there was an overwhelming desire to orgasm — I wanted to save it until I had looked at each and everyone from cover to cover.
Did my mother leave hardcore and kiddy porn in her bedroom for me to find? Well, let’s say, it wasn’t exactly well hidden. In fact, it felt like she deliberately wanted me to find it. And of course, I did.
When I reached home from school that day, I found the house empty. There was a note on the kitchen table saying that she would be out for a few hours. I was horny and thought I would use the opportunity to play with my mother’s stockings — I dropped my school bag in the hallway and ventured upstairs to my bedroom, where I stripped naked. My cock was already pissed hard. Jesus and I had been planning our next sleepover and the thought of fucking him was driving me crazy. We’d met briefly a few times in the school toilets for a quick grope, cock rub, and snog. I sucked him off a few times and loved the taste of his cum in my mouth while I was back in class. It was all fun, but what we really wanted was an all-night sex ritual together.
Naked and stroking myself, I entered my mother’s bedroom. I breathed in the familiar funky smell. I never quite knew what it was, maybe it was her body odor or something in the incense she burned, I don’t know — I just knew it turned me on. Lately, she’d developed a thing for black candles and the crucifix in the wall hung the wrong way up.
I went to her lingerie drawer to find a stocking to tightly wrap around my dirty little cock as I stroked while dancing in front of my mother’s large mirrored cabinets. That’s when my heart almost stopped.
“Fuck!” I said out loud.
There in the draw was a stack of porn magazines. Not just the normal skin magazines like Playboy or Mayfair that I’d seen in the possession of some of the older boys in school — these were something else.
I found myself physically shaking as I pulled them out and laid them out on the bed. They were the most perverted things I’d ever seen. Precum oozed from the slit in my cock and dribbled over my fingers. I didn’t want to get any of my cock-slime on the glossy pages, so I wiped my hands on the bedspread.
I picked up a magazine called Transexual Climax 24. The cover showed a picture of a tranny dressed in lingerie, her hands held the back of a naked man’s head, pressing him down on her erect cock. Inside there was a story called ‘Daphne’s Desire’ — the tranny looked Indian. The story said that she was an exotic dancer.
I picked up another magazine called Sex Bizarre 29. The cover showed a hot-looking woman with a black checker and shiny latex stockings. There was a man laying down below her very hairy cunt. She smiled sweetly at the camera as she defecated into his open mouth. The image of her shitting in his mouth nearly made me spurt my load.
There was more. Much more.
“Hail Satan,” I spat out loud as I read the titles.
Incest Family, Pre-Teen Sex, Sucking Daddy, and Child Love. I spread them out. These magazines showed many picture stories of older women, my mother’s age, seducing young boys and girls — some as young as seven years old. There was one story about a family, where the son and mother and daughter and father were involved in a Black Mass — this piqued my interest as I masturbated furiously. It all got too much for me and my cum flew from my cock all over my chest and face. I was breathing heavily — trying to catch my breath. I lapped up my cum and my cock stiffened again.
This was when I realized how perverted my mother truly was. Had she left these magazines for me to find or had she been careless about hiding them in a place that I often visited? I wasn’t sure. I came another five times — my little balls were completely empty. I put the magazines back, in the same order I had found them. I felt darkly inspired to draw in my secret sketchbook.
I had left a note for Jerry to find and I had stashed the porn in my lingerie draw — a place that I knew Jerry frequented whilst masturbating in my bedroom. Let the serpent of temptation lure him to me — I prayed. I had a mental picture of him furiously masturbating at the toxic offering that I had made. There would be no doubt in his mind about my inclinations and though we had both skirted around the subject of incest — my lust had become unbearable — I needed my corrupted eleven-year-old son to fuck me in all my holes, while we both gave praise to Satan and Lilith.
My mind was very clear about this. But in the meanwhile, I sat next door with my African neighbor, Ayida. Her daughter was playing upstairs in her room when I arrived and Ayida welcomed me with a warm smile. Her house had that nigger smell and it made me wet just being there. She was wearing a provocative outfit that showed off her belly piercing and there was a visible tattoo across her lower back that appeared to be a curled serpent emerging from below her waistline. We sat down and she brought a strange herbal tea for us to share. When I asked her about her tattoo. She said it was, what they called a veve — the symbol of an evil Vodou Loa or spirit — and that it was in fact her name sake. Ayida Wedo was the sexual deity in her religion.
Of course, this brought the conversation around to the subject of sexuality. She asked me if my husband (whilst alive) had satisfied me.
It was a blunt question and I answered with a very blunt, “No.”
Ayida held my hand in hers and said that she was in touch with the spirit world. She got a strong vibration from me the first time we met. She said that I was about to cross a line. I immediately thought about my incestuous seduction. I pretended not to understand and asked her what she meant. She smiled and said that my secret was safe with her. She said that Ayida Weda approves — as the spirit approves of her and her daughter — and that she would pray for me and my son.
It was later in the evening when my mother returned. I pretended to be doing my homework when she arrived with Chinese takeaway for dinner. All I could think about was the porn magazines that my mother had hidden in her lingerie drawer. My cock was stiff and ached for more masturbation. We sat in front of the television and ate the chicken chow mein from paper cartons with plastic utensils. It was one of my favorites, but in the past, it kind of made me have nightmares for some reason — maybe something to do with the spiciness.
While my mother cleaned up, I went back upstairs. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and changed into my pajamas. And then, just lay on my bed. My mother came upstairs and kissed me good night. Her lips were moist as she pressed them against mine. She seemed to linger nervously. She helped me get under the bedclothes and said goodnight.
I heard her showering in the bathroom and then she disappeared into her bedroom. By this time it was dark. I kept seeing images of young boys and girls having sex with one another and with much larger adults. The titles of these publications danced before my eyes. Child Love. Incest Family. Pre-Teen Sex. I thought of the Devil. Transexual Climax. My hard cock demanded attention. Sex Bizarre. Shitting. Pissing.
I slipped out of my pajamas (like a snake shedding its skin), so I would have unfettered access to my greasy little cock, tight balls, and dirty anus — as I began to touch myself again in that half-awake-half-asleep state of mind.
I imagined a scenario of going to my mother’s bed. I would be crying from a fictitious nightmare. I could smell my sexuality oozing from my groin. My body was all clammy with sexual perspiration.
“Oh, mommy. I can’t sleep alone. I’m afraid of the dark!” I lied.
She would grin evilly at me in the flickering candlelight.
“Oh my. Did you have a nightmare, my dear?”
I would nod affirmatively as the serpent coiled and uncoiled within me. She would pull down the bedclothes to welcome me into her silk-sheet bed.
“But mommy, you’re not wearing a nightgown?”
I could see her small naked breasts. They looked underdeveloped. Small, but firm. Her pink nipples that created her little mounds looked hard and erect. So suck-able. Her vagina was shaven, plump, and pouting.
“It’s too hot tonight, my dear,” she confessed, “Let me help you out of those sweat-soaked pajamas.”
In my fantasy, it made absolute sense for me to have a boner. Mommy didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she smiled at my state of obvious arousal as I looked upon her with incestuous lust. Mommy pulled me closer. I could smell her insane horniness. She’d been masturbating as I had been too, looking at those lewd, perverted books.
“What’s that that you’re reading Mommy?” I would ask so innocently.
“Let me show you, my dear. Let’s read together!” she replied in a husky voice.
After kissing my son goodnight, I took a much-needed shower. I was overheating with desire — my mind was a tangled web of lust.
My nigger neighbor, Ayida, had told me that in the small village, she was from in West Africa, she had been an important person in their rural community. Like her mother before her, she was to be their mambo. And like her, her own daughter would be one too.
She’d taken me into her back room. A private space — not shared with outsiders. There was the sound of Vodou music. – its pulsing beat made me sway hypnotically. The back room was decorated in the tradition of her tribe and we’d sat down on the matted floor opposite each other. There were wooden effigies of her serpent-like god that had an enormous erect penis.
Ayida made me comfortable and told me that my halo was dark. I didn’t even know I had a halo — let alone, know that it was a dark one. She said that she recognized my situation and that I was not to be afraid. It seemed that she could see right through my facade of respectability and knew I was a sexual pervert.
She crushed some berries into a wooden bowl and poured the juice into a tea-like remedy. She added some other strange ingredients of jars and then added an unidentified liquid. Ayida told me to drink it. The concoction tasted foul, but I drank it anyway. Immediately I felt lucid maybe even a little euphoric. I tingled all over — especially between the legs It was a strange sensation — not so dissimilar to being drunk — I feel attentive one moment and then in a semi-state of sleepiness in the next.
Ayida’s voice reverberated in my ears as she spoke as she spoke in an unfamiliar language.
I saw young Ghede standing completely naked next to her mother. Ghede’s skin was shiny with sweat and she appeared blue-black – just like her mother. Her chest was completely flat and her tiny slit was hairless. Ayida was fingering her daughter’s pussy and then offered me her soiled fingers to suck. I sucked then as she chanted strangely. Ayida said that, when she was Ghede’s age, her mother often asked her to “milk” the boys as she used their seed in her elixirs. She said that I was to bring my son to her and Ghede would “milk” him for the both of us. I liked that idea.
Ayida showed me a white fetish doll with a small erect penis. She said Vodou used these dolls to inflict pain and suffering on their enemies — but they can also be used to induce carnality, lust and passion. She gave me some white pins and said that I should pray over the doll, smear it with my intimate juices and then use it to fixate on my “heart’s desire“ — she added that, by pushing the pins into its genitalia, it would ignite sexual desires towards me.
I had brought the doll back, hidden in my shoulder bag. Now, in the privacy of my room, and retrieved the small white cotton doll. After my shower, I was naked beneath my bathrobe. My cunt was already moist and purring. I let my toweling robe fall to the floor as I stood in front of the mirrored wardrobes. Retrieving my glossy-covered collection of kiddy porn, I carefully laid the pornographic magazines out on my bed. I arranged them and opened the pages so that all showed sexual scenes between mothers and sons, or at least older females and younger boys.
My heart raced as I rubbed my cunt juices over the small cotton fetish. Soon it was damp in my fluids. Next, I pissed over it and then smeared my menstrual blood over its wet cotton fabric. The doll changed color with each successive bodily fluid. Looking at the perverted images in the pornographic magazines, I began to masturbate myself using the doll — rubbing its course material against my engorged clitoris. I groaned to myself and then looked through my spy hole at my naked son.
There he was — my “heart’s desire”. Young sweet little Jerry – pranced around effeminately to the sound of the pagan beat. He masturbated himself in front of the standing mirror, dressed only in his little devil mask. Watching him brought me close to cumming. My fingers yearned to touch him inappropriately. My mouth salivated at the thought of sucking his little dick and licking his little puckered brown hole.
Now, using the white pins, I began to pierce the doll between its legs. I thought about the weird music that Ayida had been playing — it was not so dissimilar to the music that I could hear through the wall. Ayida had said the Loa would be pleased with my offering. Pin after pin, I pressed into the groin area of the little doll. Jerry began to moan and ejaculate over himself — it was as if the pins pressed into the doll had made him cum. I liked the thought of that — being able to control his pleasure. Of course, I dismissed this thought as a flight of fantasy — but still, my head spun with strange fantasies.
I told Jesus about my mother’s increasing strangeness. I mentioned the pornography that I had found in her lingerie drawer. He thought it was really hot. He wanted to see what I had seen.
“You mean she watched us have sex and didn’t try to stop us? That’s so fucking cool! And you think she gets off on it? Your mom’s a total fox — we should fuck her together!”
I really was speechless that my new best friend actually wanted to have sex with my mom. And if I joined in, that would be incest — like the images in her dirty evil magazines.
We planned our next sleepover and giggled at the prospect of giving my mom an eyeful of something sordid and then plotting how best to make our move on her.
LOVERS – CHAPTER FOUR (2,402 WORDS)
“But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own selfish desire.” — James chapter 1 verse 14.
It was All Hallows Eve and Jerry had organized for Jesus to sleep over again. The weather had turned quite cold, so I had turned up the heat. In the house, it was also sweltering. I liked it that way. It would be perfect for Jerry and Jesus to prance around in his room naked — and I was hoping for a delicious eyeful tonight. Something was up. I was sure of it. But I had a few surprises of my own.
Downstairs in the living room, we ate pizza in front of the fireplace. I had decorated the room in sinister decor befitting the occasion. There were lots of black candles, together with fake bats, cobwebs, and various items of witchcraft and occult. The boys loved it. We even played some of Jerry’s pagan music.
Jerry and Jesus both dressed like sexy little devils for the occasion – of course, downstairs they were still concealed in little red Lyra tops, pants, and forked tails. Upstairs in the privacy of Jerry’s bedroom, I anticipated that they would be eager to show off their hard little cocks to each other before they began to suck and fuck.
To their surprise, I had also dressed up. I looked like a demonic nun. With a pair of large horns, black nail varnish on my fingers and toes, heavy goth make-up, and even a blasphemous inverted cross around my neck. What they couldn’t see was under my nun’s habit — I wore: black pencil heels; thigh-high stockings; a black nipple-less bra; and no knickers. My cunt was open and very wet.
I made sure that they had lots of sugary pop sodas to drink (to fill their nasty little bladders).
The evening started out with a very playful mood. I saw Jesus kept looking at me when he thought I wasn’t observing him. Jesus commented on how he loved my costume. Jerry was genuinely surprised at my efforts too. For a second, I wondered what Sonny would have said. He would have had a heart attack. I actually couldn’t give a fuck anymore.
The two boys prodded each other and whispered behind my back. And pretended not to notice them. As the meal finished and we cleaned away the remains of dinner, I suggested to the boys that we should play a little game. I knew that were already very randy and keen to go upstairs and begin fucking each other — but I had other plans tonight.
”Shall we play a game?” I suggested, “Let’s see who is the sexiest dancer.”
”It’s me!” cried, Jerry.
”No! It’s me!” Replied Jesus.
We turned up the pagan beat. The two bum-chums began to prance about the sound of the evil music — bumping and grinding — in their tight-fitting red Lycra outfits in front of the roaring fire. I took photos of the two of them as they competed against each other, trying to outdo each other and impress me with their raunchy moves. Jesus was gyrating his narrow hips, while Jerry thrust back and forth. My juices were flowing. I could smell my cunt.
”I think Jesus is doing very well!” I said, to stir my son up
This had the immediate effect of Jerry wanting to up his game. It was as if they’d forgotten about the agenda of getting upstairs to be alone together and were both caught up in this new and erotic task. I noticed that both of them obviously found the sex dance exciting as both had little bulges in the front of their Lycra pants. With only candles and the fire to light the room, they both cast large horned silhouettes that moved ominously, copulating against the living room walls and curtains.
”Hail Satan! Hail the sexy demons!” I cried.
Again, my words seem to stimulate both of them to perform even more daring acts as they jostled back and forth, trying to get my attention. They touched themselves and each other in an increasingly sexual way. I yearned to sink my fingers into my itchy, wet hole.
”Worship the Devil! Show me, young demons – she me how you worship the Devil!”
Jesus stood immediately in front of me as I photographed him. He ran his hands all over his gyrating body — even daring to touch the bulge in the front of his pants. It took all of my self-control not to rip his tight little red pants down and gobble his hard little dick and tight little walnut-shaped balls.
“And which of you nasty demons is the best kisser?” I asked.
I wet my black lipsticked lips, as I knelt down.
”Me!” insisted Jesus.
Without hesitation, I pulled him forward, holding him in my arms as I pressed his lips to mine. I could feel his nervous excitement and his hard little erection as it pressed against my chest. I kissed him as if drawing his psychic strength into my vampiric mouth.
”My turn!” demanded my son.
Again, still kneeling down, I took hold of Jerry’s face and brought it to mine. My mouth was open and so was his — my tongue pressed between his lips exploring his mouth carnally. Our kiss seemed to be the key to opening a taboo door that I had been dreaming about forever. There would be no turning back now. My hand groped at his little hard-on, pressed my palm hard up against it, as he groaned into my open mouth.
I don’t know if it was our plan or my mother’s plan. But it felt as if something possessed us all. Jesus and I had talked and fantasized about what we would do with my mother — but what I had in my mind seemed more like a fairy tale – all pink and blue and wrapped in a big bow.
But it was Halloween. The night of the demons. It was black and red and wrapped in a sheer stocking. My mother had decorated our living room like something out of a horror movie — complete with bats, broomsticks, and inverted crosses. Jesus and I were so excited. My mother looked scary. Like a nun that had been seduced by the Devil.
We ate pizza for dinner. One of my favorites. Afterward, we helped clean up and then mom suggested we play a game.
The demon nun suggested that we see who could dance the most sexily with her as our judge. Jesus thought it was a cool idea. We danced before her and it made us both very horny. At first, I wasn’t sure if the demon nun could see my hard little cocklet pressing outwards from beneath my tight red pants that fitted my body like a sock – but I got to the point that I just didn’t care — in fact, I wanted her to see my arousal before her. So Jesus was rubbing himself against me as if we were upstairs in my room — but we weren’t — and doing it in front of our evil temptress was even more exciting.
The demon nun blasphemed and cried to us to worship the devil. I wanted to masturbate in front of her. I wanted to get my cock out and rub fast as we knelt and worship this dark siren that had risen from the depths of hell. I watched with awe as Jesus kissed her mouth. I mean, it wasn’t like a peck on the lips as I had thought it to be — their tongues moved back and forth, wriggling like serpents between their open mouths. It was so fucking hot. I could not wait to have my turn. I wanted to kiss this evil seductress. Kiss her deeply and show her that I was the best kisser. And I did. Her thick adult tongue invaded my mouth and her fingers wrapped around my Lycra-wrapped erection. All of a sudden — the room felt unbearably hot. I needed to be naked.
The demon nun stood up and opened The front of her long black gown. Beneath her shapeless nun’s habit, her flesh was lily white. She wore a black nipple-less bra, no panties, and thigh-high stockings. I could not believe my eyes. I had never seen a real shaved cunt before and it looked and smelt wicked. She ordered us both to remove our clothes and kneel before her. I moved as if in a dream, stripping naked immediately and showing her how excited I was – complying with her every request as if my very life depended upon it.
At first, she made us kiss each other. I kissed Jesus and Jesus kissed me right back. The passion was undeniable. Our tongues curled around each other as we watch the demon nun touch herself. She encouraged us to frot against one another, rubbing our hard little cocks together as we passionately kissed.
”Yes,” she said, “Now kiss the Devil!”
She pointed to the flushed flesh between her legs. Her cunt hole looked slimy. We each took turns feasting upon her dirty wet hole. It was oily and smelt of fish, but that didn’t deter us — in fact, its unwholesomeness was delicious. She had removed the gown completely but left the cowl in place around her head.
“Come, young demon — the Devil’s waiting!”
Her hands guided my thirsty mouth towards her cunt lips and the nub of her clitoris that protruded at the topmost part of her labia. I lapped and sucked up her juices that flowed over my chin and chest. It was like a putrid waterfall of sourness. While I ate her out, Jesus licked feverishly at her puckered anus. And then we swapped. I kissed her dark, wrinkled flesh around her brown sewer hole. Her anus was dank and tasted even more bitter than her cunt. I tried my best to worm my tongue up her smelly shit-hole as I imagined her shitting into my open mouth.
I pushed Jerry down onto the carpeted floor. I wasted no time straddling his glorious four-inch cock. My hands guided his hard little member into my greedy wet cunt as he lay spreadeagled below me. He looked up, almost in disbelief. I laughed to myself — feeling my malicious intent. My pussy muscles tightened around his slender girth – it felt fabulous to be actually fucking my son. And unlike sex with Sonny — I was in complete control. It felt nasty and dirty. It felt vulgar and I loved it all — nothing like the pathetic sex with my dead husband.
“Hail Satan! Hail Satan! Hail Satan” I groaned over and over.
How long I had waited for this moment — to finally feel him inside of me as we moved up and down in complete unison. I leaned forward, giving Jesus ample opportunity to do what I wanted him to do. He knelt down right behind me and he pressed his hard little prick against my anal opening. Yes — double penetration — two kiddy cocks were definitely going to be better than one. Jesus didn’t need any instructions — his pansy little ass thrust forward so that his hips bumped hard against my soft buttocks as I pressed backward to meet his thrusts.
“Fuck! Fuck Christ! Fuck the Holy Mary!” I screamed in delight, “Fuck me, my little demons!”
I was in pedo-paradise. As I began to fuck my son for the first time, I knew this was a gift from Satan. I knew from this day forward, there would be many sleepovers. I knew I fully intended to fuck my son’s balls empty every night. And that every night would be All Hallows Eve in this — the house of pedo-sex. I was a fuck-slut for kiddy cocks.
I knew, after all the soda pop, that both these young bucks would need to empty their bladders — and I had a thirst for hot salty boy piss.
I lay awake in the dark. It was about three in the morning.
My cock was hard again. I needed to piss desperately but was feeling too lazy to get up and make my way to the toilet. Instead, I began to lazily stroke myself as I lay there. I pressed again my bladder and my fingers felt wet from my piss. I rubbed my wet fingers over my stomach and rebelled in the smell of my piss and sweat.
My mother stirred in restlessness.
I leaned across her and ran my fingers over her oily cunt. She moaned and opened her legs wider as I sank my middle finger inside of her. I brought my dirty finger to my mouth and tasted her.
Jesus lay on the other side of the bed. In the flicking candlelight, I could see that his hand was wrapped around his stiff little tool. He was not asleep either. He grinned at me evilly as did I as did, finger fucking my mother and then tasting her soiled fingers.
My mother’s bed stank of our dirty, filthy, sinful sex. It was almost incomprehensible. How the night had turned out. I rubbed myself and remembered the sensations. Abhorrent sensations. Everything had been so fucking taboo.
After our little sinful dance competition — we’d both fucked my mom. We’d fucked her in all her holes. Cum in all her holes. Even pissed in her mouth. Pissed in her cunt and gave her a piss enema. She’d acted like a total fuck-slut. I’d drunken mouthfuls of her straw-yellow piss as she squatted over our upturned faces.
She told me that my father never fucked her like we did. She spat out his name with a few, “fuck the holy spirits” in there too. That made me proud as I hated him so much. I was glad he was dead. Fuck him. Everything he’d told me not to do, I wanted. I wanted Satan to fill my black heart. I wanted to commit every sin against his stupid God — break every commandment one by one. Thou shall not this and thou shall not that. Thou shall not kill — I wanted to kill something. That thought made me very excited.
I stood up on the mattress and looked down at my mother and Jesus. Pressing my hard little cock downwards, I began to empty my bladder as I urinated over both of them.
LOVERS – CHAPTER FIVE (2,161 WORDS)
“In later times some will depart from the faith by devoting themselves to deceitful spirits and teachings of demons.” — 1 Timothy chapter 4 verse 1.
It was a Saturday morning and Jesus still had some time before he was supposed to make his way home. I suggested that he phone his parents and ask if he could stay over another night. They said yes. Both Jerry and Jesus were very excited. I told them to get showered and to change into these skimpy little dhotis that barely covered their genitals. It was cold outside, but I said where we were going, that it would be nice and warm. They looked disappointed that they couldn’t remain naked all day – as they obviously thought the idea of Jesus staying over was to continue our perverted threesome – but I had other ideas.
I made a quick call to Ayida, next door, and told the boys that we were going to visit a naughty friend. Jerry had never been acquainted with our nigger neighbors – so he had no idea what Ayida and I had in store for them both.
We quickly walked next door and Ayida ushered us all into her humble abode. She lead us immediately through into the backroom that was more than warm, with a roaring fireplace and lit by many candles. As the room had no visible windows, it seemed very private. Jerry and Jesus looked around — their fascination with the decor, which mimicked the style of Ayida’s African Vodou upbringing. The walls were covered with art, fabrics, and tribalism. Of course, her upbringing had involved an intense involvement in Vodou, black magic, and incest. It was indeed hot in her backroom — I couldn’t wait to get naked — but Ayida gave me a short beaded skirt to wear — like the boy’s dhotis — it barely covered by pussy and my A-cup breasts were on full display.
Jerry said he liked my skirt and Ayida wore a similar outfit. Her brown breasts were larger than mine, with wide areolas and long pointed nipples. Ayida was excited that I had finally agreed to bring the boys over – though they were yet to meet Ayida’s nine-year-old daughter, Ghede. And then the threesome would become a fivesome. I said that I loved the look of the place and Ayida said that it gave her comfort. There was a large wooden altar covered with evil-looking wooden idols, beads, skulls, bones, and Vodou symbolism painted in white.
Ayida instructed us all to sit down in a loose semi-circle around the fetish altar where she prepared some herbal drink. I remembered vaguely the way her potions made me feel last time and I knew this was going to be interesting. The room was perfumed with the aroma of strange incense and the sound of tribal drums filled our ears. Ayida’s lithe body gyrated gracefully around us as we each took our turn in drinking the foul concoction that Ayida had prepared. But as the dizzy warm feeling began to radiate out from my cunt. I felt it filling me with a new kind of lust.
Mom took us next door. I never knew that she was close to the Neighbors, and I was surprised to see that she was a black woman. When my father was alive, we only kept to ourselves and the church. My father didn’t really like niggers at all. In fact, he didn’t like Asians, Arabs, or Indians either — he said that they were sub-human and belonged in the jungle with their heathen beliefs and ungodly ways. The fact that my mother had befriended one, would have offended him greatly — and if he didn’t like something, then it was something that I would definitely find interesting.
Mom had given Jesus and me these loose skirt-like outfits to wear. The kind of things that the jungle bunnies wore in Rudyard Kipling’s Jungle Book. She called them dhotis. They felt strange, but I thought it was cool to be so open and exposed. Next door Mom also wore this short beaded skirt and showed off her little tits. Mom told us that the nigger woman worshiped evil spirits (like Satan and Lilith). They were called Loas. She said that we were going to partake in a Vodou ritual. She didn’t exactly say it — but we both guessed that it would involve perverted sex. It was difficult to hide our excitement and the hard little cock was obviously tenting the thin material of our dhoti.
Inside the nigger’s house, it smelt funky, like incense, burnt things, and piss, all mashed up. Mom said that the niggers were into witchcraft and black magic— they had lots of evil-looking idols (with large cocks) made of wood with lots of rusted nails embedded in them. They were blackened and smeared with stuff. Mom said it was menstrual blood, piss, and poop.
She said the nigger was a mambo — some kind of high priestess — and she was going to use our semen as an offering to her serpent god. I thought of the story my father told us about Adam and Eve and how the serpent in the Garden of Eden had poisoned them to lose faith in God and become sinful.
He often quoted Genesis chapter 3 verse 5 — “Then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.”
I wanted to be a God and to know true evil.
Ayida’s concoction certainly took the edge off. In fact, I had never felt more inspired to do disgusting and perverted things. I could see that little Jerry and Jesus were equally salacious as their dhotis didn’t do much to disguise their sexual arousal. Ayida suggested that the boys do a carnal dance before the large phallic idol and show their love of darkness. I agreed, looking forward to all that we had in store. The boys were not inhibited at all and began to dance for Ayida and I as they gyrated before the evil sexual idol to the tribal drums. Ayida parted the cowrie shell shirt and began masturbating herself as she watched the two younglings.
“Take off your dhoti’s,” she suggested and they did, “Touch your little cocks for Ayida Wedo!” she cried, as she fingered her oily black cunt.
I began to follow Ayida’s lead, impassioned by the sexy dance of the two young boys.
“Incest is so delicious — don’t you think?” said Ayida.
I was too excited to answer and just nodded in my agreement.
Ayida fetched two clear glass bottles. They had both been inscribed with strange white Vodou markings and she suggested that the boy piss into them. The boys did not miss a beat as they continued to dance erotically and grinned back at us as they both filled their respective bottles with pale yellow urine.
“Place them on the altar,” Ayida ordered.
The boys did as she told them.
Just then the boys looked up and were a little shocked at the sight of Ayida’s young daughter, Ghede. Like them, she was completely naked and joined their dance. Her lithe body was shiny black. Her chest was completely flat and her body was devoid of hair. Around her delicate throat, she wore a choker of skulls carved from human bone. Her dance was equally provocative — pumping her narrow bony hips to the Pedro drums (that were used to call the evil spirits).
Ghede danced directly in front of me.
“Go on — taste her!” encouraged her mother.
My hands were shaking as I reached forward and held her slender waist and pressed my lips against her tiny slit.
“Aaargghhhh,” she groaned as my tongue explored her wet cavern.
It tasted salty and sour. I lapped vigorously and was surprised at how deep my tongue could go. Obviously, she was no virgin.
I sat back as the three young ones danced together. Ghede rubbed herself against their hard little cocks and soon the three of them were frotting and masturbating as they continued their frolic.
“Make your offering,” cried Ayida to her daughter.
And Gheda retrieved a hollow skull from the altar. Standing before the phallic idol with her back to us, she held the hollow skull beneath her anus. A long serpent-like rope of excrement snaked from her backside. I could smell its meaty aroma. It spiraled into a coil and she held it up for her mother to see. Her mother nodded in approval and she placed it with the two bottles of urine on the blackened altar to their evil Loas.
“Clean her!” said Ayido.
Gheda turned around and my tongue stroked against her filthy little sphincter lapping at the remains of her dark chocolate.
“It is time,” said Ayida, and Ghede mounted the altar so that she stood immediately above the phallic idol.
The long wooden phallic wasn’t thick, but its bulbous cock-head reached upwards from the idol’s hips. The boys watched in awe as Ghede positioned the phallic against her vagina. The first inch sank in. I already had three fingers crammed into my cunt. Gheda sank lower as another three inches of wooden dildo disappeared into her open slit. Ayida looked over at me.
“Your God — Satan — would be pleased?” she asked, “Oh yes indeed!”
Jesus and I danced before the nigger priestess. We’d both pissed into these decorated bottles and placed them as offerings on her altar. My mind seemed to be almost floating in a sea of excitement. Whatever was in her potion, was taking effect in a big way. My groin felt hot and itchy. The nigger priestess looked pleased at her handiwork; as if she anticipated the overwhelming feeling. She grinned broadly with big white teeth as we both stroked our boy-sized cocks and danced fanatically back and forth before her evil idol.
Then we first saw Ghede — the nigger’s daughter. She was much younger than us. Her body was small, petite, and very slender. Like a black stick. She had no tits and her cunt protruded out against her seemingly malnourished body. She was naked like us and touched herself between the legs as she watched the both of us hungrily. She grinned like an animal with bright teeth and flared nostrils — as if we were her meal. And she was very hungry. Around her neck, she wore a necklace of carved bone skulls — all part of her tribal appearance. I wondered if the two mothers were going to let us fuck her. I wanted to stick my prick into her mouth, ass, and cunt. Looking at Jesus, I was guessing that he wanted to do this too.
Her mother told her to make an offering. I thought she was going to piss in a bottle like we did, but instead, she made a huge stinking shit. Bending over a half skull, her curly poop filled the recess in the skull. She held it up to show her mother and then placed it on the altar too. My mom eagerly cleaned the remaining ass-fudge from around her black anus. Then Ghede mounted the altar.
The Vodou idol has a large wooden cock that stood upright from between its legs. Ghede stood over it and rubbed herself against it. It was fucking hot. Her mother cried out enthusiastically in her native language. I wanted her to impale herself upon it — to fuck the evil spirit. Mom and the nigger were masturbating using their fingers and we were rubbing our cocks furiously too.
Ghede lowered herself upon the idol’s cock, so that the tip of the round cock-head disappeared inside her tight little cunt hole. The drum beat was going crazy and I was close to cumming just watching her. The nigger priestess told us to stand close to her — so that she could reach our cocks. We did as she instructed. My mom and the priestess both held these small metal bowls to catch our semen as Ghede began to masturbate the both of us. “The spirit of Ayida Wede, guides her fingers — to bring forth their semen,” said the excited priestess.
Ghede’s fingers wrapped around my little cock. They seemed unnaturally strong for such a slight young girl — but they squeezed my cock shaft hard, in a vice-like grip, as if possessed by something that would never let go. She stroked both of us. Up and down. My precum flowed over her strong bony fingers. Jesus was gasping for breath as he rapidly approach orgasm — and I was almost ready to explode.
“Hail Satan!” cried my mother.
My entire body began to shake. The drug-induced high was like nothing I had experienced before. The drums echoed in my ears and my blurred vision filled with glimpses of strange evil apparitions — specters of demonic lust. My cum began to spurt from the eye of my cock.
“The offering has been made!” cried Ghede’s mother.
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