DISCLAIMER: The following is fiction. The characters in this story have been made up. The content of the story is not representative of the writer’s beliefs, opinions or attitudes. This is story is intended for adult entertainment only. All Rights Reserved © 2017 LITTLESALLY666
STORY CODES: LGBT, WS, Scatology, Cohesion, Corruption, NC, Rape, Bondage, Pedophilia, MC, Black Magic, Devil Worship, Demons, Evil themes
AUTHORS NOTES: A short story I wrote about ten years ago. Ever since I could remember I have been fascinated with the possibility of seduction by sexualized demons. Fueled by my avoid interest in transgender and ritualized sexual activities – this is a blasphemous fantasy.
SUCCUBUS NIGHTMARE – SYNOPSIS
A succubus is a shape-shaping demon who can appear in female, male (also known as an incubi) and androgynous (hermaphroditic) form. This supernatural entity (traced back to medieval legend), appears in dreams and takes whatever form is needed in order to seduce men, women (and even children), through perverse sexual activities. It is said that the Succubus, in folklore, is a spirit or devil thought to sexually attack and have intercourse with sleeping persons; seducing them with sinful and perverse sexual acts; cursing them with lust eternal. In modern representations, a succubus is often depicted as a highly attractive seductress or enchantress; whereas, in the past, succubi were generally depicted as frightening and horrific. This then, is a modern day, real life account of such an evil night time seduction.
SUCCUBUS NIGHTMARE – FIRST NIGHT (868 WORDS)
Sleeping has never been a problem for me. I know other people who have to avoid caffeine or eating things like cheese before bed – because of their effects in terms of insomnia or even nightmares. Ever since I can remember, as soon as I hit the pillow, I am out for the count. Actually that not completely true – when I was very young, I am talking ten or eleven years old now, I remember being very afraid of the dark and always sleeping with a night-light burning for comfort. As a child, you don’t always understand the content of your dreams and though at eighteen, I still vaguely remember a few monster-under-the-bed issues, the majority of that part of my life had faded well and truly into the subconscious.
I had moved into a down-market apartment building in the lower east side of the city. It was all I could afford at the time. Not only run down, it seemed to be located in the most sleazy part of town, surrounded by the unsavory flashing neon’s of strip clubs, peep shows, sex shops and short-stay hotels – none of which bothered me. I was glad to have a place of my own away and to be finally from the vanilla neighborhoods of the suburbs. The dated décor left a lot to be desired with its rusty metal railings, dipping faucets, peeling wallpapers and creaky old floorboards all of which had seen much better days.
It had been an all day effort of moving boxes and furniture and I was exhausted from it. The previous tenants I reckoned must have been rather pious types, as the wall still retained mark of where a heavy crucifix had been hung against the faded and stained wallpaper. There had been a box of religious-looking objects that they had left behind. I needed to pass that to the landlord at the end of week or failing that, thrown them out in the trash.
My first night in this strange place left me stirring in my double bed; not being sure whether or not I was actually awake or still asleep through my restlessness. My half-closed eyes sensed that it must be still the early hours, long before it dawn; and my bladder told me that I needed to pee. It took a few moments to orientate in the unfamiliar setting and shake myself out of tiredness in order to get up and navigate to the toilet in the darkness of the apartment.
I fumbled for the hall light and could not find it – so instead I tried to feel my way down the unfamiliar corridor towards the bathroom in my awkward nudity. In my head I had a plan of where everything was, but in reality it was not the same. Eventually I found it and flicked the switch. The naked light bulb that hung from the centre of high ceiling was insufficiently bright to really illuminate the room – I would need to change it later. In the gloomy light, the worn tiled floor, antique toilet and old caste iron bath all looked reminiscent of an old Victorian water closet. As I passed by the tall bathroom mirror, I looked at myself while I played with my cock. I watched it grow from flaccid as I held it in my thumb and forefinger to being full erect. Instead of peeing into the toilet, I felt a rather strange urge to do something a little naughty – something I had not done for a few years… actually since I was a little eleven year old kid. In the heat of the night, I thought about peeing over myself in the old white bath; laying down against the cool enameled surface and urinating over myself; as if performing some kind of pagan ritual to an unnamed demigod – drenching myself front head to toe in smelly yellow piss; even directing the salty spray into my own mouth as I masturbated myself into blissful orgasm – dedicated to the ‘piss god!’
I thought I heard something? A voice? Someone? It made me shiver. I would have left, but I had to use the piss hole. I quickly when to the toilet and them returned to my bedroom.
I still felt very horny thinking about my fantasies of golden shower rituals. But having successfully relieved myself, when I lay back down in bed, my eyes closed quickly and I sank back into a comatose state… continuing to dream where it had left off. I caught glimpses of something eerily erotic and darkly sensual; it was too splintered to make out what exactly my dream had been about; though I caught an undertone of something rather raw and sexually base stirring in side me that I had not felt for a long while – like voyeuristic eyes watched me with an intense stare, as a predator would look at its intended prey. I saw a young unclothed child touching her self and then the image of a sexy women’s face – her lips mouthed something over and over. I tried to catch what she was saying but I drifted back into sleep.
SUCCUBUS NIGHTMARE – SECOND NIGHT (787 WORDS)
For the second time in a succession, I had been awoken. Darkness. Again, I felt a pressure in my bladder, but I felt lazy and reluctant to move. Immediately my thoughts of masturbation and golden showers crossed my filthy little mind. I was simply horny as hell.
But I lay there for what seemed an eternity. It was so hot. No air-conditioning. Actually there was air-con, but the rusted old unit did not seem to respond and only pushed out more hot air. I would have to tell the landlord about it tomorrow. In anticipation of that, I had opened all the windows before going to bed. The net curtains swayed vigorously in the warm wind that came from the open windows… but the breeze was humid, giving me no relief from the stuffiness of this everlasting night.
From my bed, I could smell the steamy city. As I lay there I watched the shadow play of light and shade flickering as the translucent curtains danced in the warm wet air. For some unexplainable reason, it gave me an eerie and unsettling feeling of again being watched. I pulled the damp sheet up over my naked body and then I laughed to myself. There was no one there! I pulled the sheet back down. What was I doing? It was stupid! I was alone in the dirty old apartment and I had been spooking myself. Rationalizing it, still did not help me loose that creepy feeling; as if something or someone had been lurking around behind the walls of my bedroom – my imagination had been simply running overtime tonight!
I toyed with my rigid cock, rubbing myself aimlessly – more out of boredom that anything else. I really needed to take a piss. But I just could not be bothered getting up. Soon my cock became dripped between my fingers as I thought about a naked waifish pole-dancer masturbating… grinding lewdly as she thrust her hairless pubic mound back and forth and gyrated her narrow boney hips in her drug-fueled erotic performance… especially for her special customer… me. There’s something about masturbating with a little bit of a bladder ache that makes it even more pleasurable and sometimes that mixture of pre-cum and a little bit of urine that makes a great masturbation lubricate.
Again I felt strangely aware of not being completely alone. Maybe it was the thinness of the walls between my neighbors and me. I swear I could hear voices – almost inaudible and certainly indistinct. The blurry shadows continued to catch my attention as they moved with shapes that I thought must be from outside – but I was too high up for this to be headlights from passing traffic. The shapes changed from defuse umbrae morphing slowly into translucent silhouettes that resembled a whore, dancing naked and masturbating, just for a moment and then back into indistinguishable forms. I accepted what I saw as I thought I was dreaming but I swear the more vigorous I masturbated, the more obvious these silhouetted images seemed to materialize; this time from a single pole-dancer to a whole troupe of naked dancers, air fucking like in some kind of shadowy pagan ritual deep in the woods or in a cave mouth. The flames of a fire, illuminated them and cast its red hue over the sexually charged ceremony. I let my kinky imagination run wild as I envisioned them to be a coven to perverted lesbian witches dancing around a phallic idol dedicated to their beloved fertility god as they chanted to Io-Pan.
There it was a voice again. I stopped and listened. The neighbors must have young children. But what are they doing playing at such a late hour? I could hear a young girl giggle.
“He’s the one… he’s the one…”
The voice was no more than a whisper, but clearer than before. I lay very still. All the time my ears where listening for the voice in the darkness. Nothing. I sat up and looked at the bedside clock. 3.00 a.m. The witching hour – it was like being a kid again, scared of the dark. I was actually a little rattled, but dreamily my hand continued to rub my cock.
“Don’t touch yourself…”
What was that? It sounded like ‘don’t touch yourself’? Fuck, in my fantasy, the coven’s orgy was into full swing – I was feeling very horny despite the strangeness and quickly brought myself closer to orgasm. The feeling was incredible, as the shadows seemed to morph into formicating witches across the edges of the wall and ceiling, like a ghostly old porn flick – I shot my load across my chest with a lewd groan of self-satisfaction.
SUCCUBUS NIGHTMARE – THIRD NIGHT (1,431 WORDS)
It had been moonless night, hot and sticky. I lay sweating from every part of my naked body; my crotch felt damp and my cock was rock hard from my bodies’ own preventative measure to stop me wetting the bed. Ever since I moved into this apartment, I had been feeling not only excessive horny – but had a relentless stream of kinky and bisexual fantasies.
I kicked back the bed cloths in a restless state – it was sweltering. I traced my chest and stomach with my fingers, dragging my fingernails across myself playfully, teasing my nipples and then down across my stomach to my urgent cock and loose-skinned balls. My fantasy had taken off from where it had left off the night before, only my coven were no longer just female… robed figures, both male and female, all with aching bladders surrounded an dark altar upon which two young males performed oral sex on each other affront the coven of masturbating worshipers. As I enjoyed the sensation of this auto-erotica – perverted little thoughts crossed my mind as I fingers could not resist pulling my foreskin agonizingly slow, back and forth across my cock-head – I retrieved a bead of pre-cum and tasted myself then used the rest to lubricate my agonizingly slow movements.
I lay on my back with one hand teasing my stiff cock, while the other fingered my sweaty anus. I pushed a finger inside up to the second knuckle. Now one of the boys was sodomizing the other; sliding his young cock inside the tightness of the other’s rectum, all encouraged by the high priest of sex as he urinated over them. I began to masturbate slowly in a semi-conscious state, as I allowed my mind to be invaded by a succession of these strange fantasies, each progressively more perverse than the previous – I pushed against my urgent bladder and allowed a few droplets of piss to squirt from my cock across my stomach. I rubbed my fingers in the pool of warm liquid and tasted my salty digits. It was me that was now the high priest… my cock was balls deep in the anus of a pre-teen boy as I urinated inside his guts… I peed again, only this time allowing more than just a few droplets to rain over myself and deliberately over my bed sheets – it felt nasty to deliberately urinate in my own bed and masturbate with piss-wet fingers, inhaling the accompanying heady mixed aroma of urea and sweat against my sticky skin.
There it was again, something I had felt ever since I had moving in – the feeling that I was being watched. I used this thought while I played with myself, as it turned me on even more thinking about masturbating before some sort of nocturnal voyeur. I arched my back, lifting my hips from the bed-sheets and pissed over my chest and face – saying to myself… look at me then, see how nasty I am… pissing in my own fucking bed. It felt kind of wicked.
I thought could hear that young voice again, that spoke in a tone just below a whisper; as if it were telling me to stop; that what I was doing was sinful. My mind told me that I must be dreaming and to relax and have fun with it. Maybe it was something to do with those religious tenants and their box of religious crap that had triggered this dream. The young childish voice spoke with a low hiss.
“It’s immoral… pray for forgiveness… repent from your sinful ways… stop fantasizing… masturbation is sinful… sexual fantasy is wrong… you must stop now before it’s too late… stop”
But somehow it felt that the voice was insincere; that actually its intent was quite the opposite and that thought fueled my strokes to became stronger and more purposeful. My thoughts dwelled upon the pleasures of non-consensual sex… of forced sex and ritual rape… a young pubescent girl fucked by the cocks of evil men… in her virgin cunt, mouth and ass spoilt, torn, deflowered in the name of some unsavory Wicca goddess… the spilling of virgin blood… Instead of my usual ‘fast as I can go technique of masturbation’ – I started to pulse in single hard thrusts of my hand and then drag out the sensations over a long pause. Rape. Rape. Rape. Each thrust gave me a shock-wave of masturbatory pleasure, followed by a teasing build that seems to elevate the slightest moment of my fingers against my highly sensitized penis.
The omnipresent voice seemed to come closer; much closer and I felt a chilling breath across my cheek like a cooling breeze – as if it was whispering directly into my ear. It was definitely the voice of a very young girl.
“Stop… stop… stop… don’t enjoy it… refuse it… pray to god… pray to god!”
Yes… I would pray to god… the god of cocks… the dark god… the evil god… the god that demanded the rape of human sacrifices… The dreamy shadows erupted across the bedroom theater as bizarre pornographic shadow show. It was erotically charged and highly forbidden. Like the imagination you project upon watching clouds – but this was much more graphic, immediate and alive. I could almost hear the moans of verbal ecstasy as these fornicating demons encircled around a single bound figure held against their will. And as their dark orgy unfolded, it was if these shadowy villains were preparing a fetish-like ritual using every hole of their helpless victim’s body.
A second voice cooed in my oppose ear; with a similarly pressing tone filled with illicit passion. This voice was older, sultrier, and much darker.
“Give in to the feeling… you know what you want… masturbate for me… evoke only your most perverse fantasies… masturbate faster and worship sin… pray to me as your god… give yourself willingly to evil thoughts of sexual worship… ritually rape them for me… sodomize the young sacrificial ones for me… offer their sex organs to me…”
The words were pushing me deeper towards depravity. My lips mouthed sinful and blasphemous words in evil worship. I let go of any restraints – I was the devil’s high priest – the conductor of iniquity, the overseer of wickedness in the name of the prince of darkness! It was like an electric shock of intense pleasure. As my heart rate increased like the tempo of a primitive drum beat calling me to thrust my hips up and down to the evil chanting in my the back of my mind as I could feel my orgasm building rapidly.
The eerie shadows danced to this rhythm across the entire ceiling and all four walls of my bedroom. I was surrounded by ghoulish display of explicit images of transgendered bodies fornicating with young boys, urinating over them and fucking their willing posteriors in a cornucopia of pistoning cocks, mouths and rectums. The insincere voice of a child spoke again.
“It’s not too late… don’t be turned on my these impure thoughts of cock worship… of pagan sex rituals of rape and sodomy to the androgynous horned god of masturbation… stop thrusting your hand up and down as your bladder screams to be emptied across your chest and into your mouth… don’t taste your salty piss for Satan… don’t cum… “
My imagination ran riot – I wanted blasphemy, a pagan rite of coprophagia… now I screamed to my sex demons to rape young children, fuck them, kill them and finally eat them in the name of Satan! But even as my possessed hand became a blur of movement, completely given and caught up in these immoral suggestions of evil pleasure; both voices seemed to melt together in a chorus of wicked vulgarities; leading me to towards the most powerful orgasm I had ever experienced.
“Cum… cum… cum… cum you fucker… worship Satan… worship his cock…”
“Aarrgghhhhh!” I screamed out loud as cum shot from my pulsing cock across my chest and chin. I could taste it on my lips; involuntarily, my hips jerked and body twisted as the massive orgasm extended for what seemed to last forever. Panting and exhausted, as the orgasmic flood subsided, a single voice whispered…
“Sleep… sleep… sleep…
I fell back into my comatose state and the next thing I felt the warmth of the morning sunshine penetrating the drapes. As I lay naked on my bed, I discovered the dried cum across my body and could detect the distinctive smell of piss. Though I tried hard to remember my night, all I could piece together was seeing a pair of penetrating eyes and vaguely hearing the commands of ghostly voices. It had been completely weird, – but hell of a rush!
SUCCUBUS NIGHTMARE – FOURTH NIGHT (1,225 WORDS)
It was already dark by the time I returned from work and though I had quite a bit of unpacking still to do, I found myself examining the box left behind by the previous tenants. I thumbed through the open cardboard box and found a large and garishly decorative crucifix with a naked Jesus nailed to it. It matched perfectly to the size of the fade mark against the bedroom wall; only the placement was strangely upside-down. There were a few other paraphernalia including a polished metal challis, half-melted black altar candles and a long beaded rosary. At the bottom of the box, there was an old black bible. It stunk like a toilet, as if someone had urinated or worse, taken a dump over it. I dropped it back in the box and decided to take a shower.
I stood under the tepid water for quite a while, letting it cool me down from the heat of the day. I was not quiet sure why I felt so sexually aroused, but I did. In the apartment, I just felt very horny all the time. My cock stood to attention and I found myself rubbing it without even thinking. As the water cascaded over my hair, I thought I heard an almost inaudible voice; a child’s voice say something.
“Not yet… not yet…stop…”
I turned off the shower tap and wrapped the damp towel around my waist. I swear I hear giggling… childish giggling. I checked the other rooms. Maybe in these old-style apartments, voices did travel through the walls from the neighbors, I thought to myself.
By the time I had checked that I had locked up properly, turned off the remaining lights and lay down in bed, I realized that I had forgotten to change the bed sheets.
Actually, it didn’t smell that bad, I thought I’d leave them and tend to it tomorrow, as just could not be bothered.
My eyelids felt very weighty. All I could think about was sleep. It had been a long day and as I closed my eyes and I drifted off immediately off to sleep.
“Awaken my disciple…”
I awake again suddenly in the middle of the night. It was completely dark but at least this time, I had some idea where I actually was. My cock was rock hard and I found my fingers wrapped around my shaft, as if I had fallen asleep whilst attempting to milk myself. I could not believe that my urgent bladder pressing for attention as it had done for the past few nights.
It was then that the smell of urea on the bed sheets reminded of how I had urinating over myself during masturbation the night before – it was a deviant feeling that heightened my senses. I then recalled those voyeuristic eyes, the sultry dark voice and the sensation of being extremely excited. I vividly remembered the power of the orgasm that had sent me right over the edge. In my mind I was kneeling before a dark alter dedicated to the worship of something unclean, a power that demanded obscenity, a gong sounded to call the faithful, the priests of Satan, to the this evil place where sexual abuse was used in celebration.
“Pray to your cock goddess!”
It seemed that my body was overly keen to duplicate the stimulation of the previous night. Other evil worshipers with pointed KKK white masks, marked with inverted crosses, gathered before the great effigy of an enormous phallic Baphomet. It was Moloch, Belial, Beelzebub, Io-Pan. They called to provoke a raw call calling for primal fucking – fierce and intense. In my mind, the chant became increasingly urgent “Io Pan! Io Pan! Io Pan! …” giving the sound a gut-punch of drama and rhythm; a thrill with lissome lust from beyond the darkness.
“Pray to your cock goddess!”
I heard the voice of a laughing child – a playful and but not naïve laugh. Déjà vu – I had been here before, maybe even many time before; but on each occasion the actual memory was to vague or distant to make sense of it – or too fractured to piece together exactly what had transpired. It was I was supposed to forget.
“Pray to your cock goddess! Prepare my evil altar…”
My cock throbbed with perverted purpose. I sat up and walked into the kitchen, grabbed the box. I rubbed my cock across the face of Jesus, wiping by pre-cum over his body; then I placed the inverted cross on the wall peg adjacent to my bed. I lit the candles and placed the bible, rosary and challis on my bedside table as I lay down again.
The flickering candles caste eerie shapes across the ceiling and over the four walls of my darkened room, shadows that began to move as dark figures formed and gathered around me. I wrapped the chain of beads around the base of my cock, rubbed then up and down my shaft as I opened the pages of the soiled bible and spat on the open pages. I groaned as I enjoying a new and more depraved sensation than I had experienced before.
“Urinate into the challis…”
My bladder was burning with fullness, sending me alarm bells, so I filled the polished challis with my salty yellow urine. I was by any means empty, but at least some of the pressure was relieved for now. My bowels also stirred, but I ignored the feeling. The memory of the demonic orgy returned to me as the voice spoke, no longer as whisper.
“Masturbate my servant… show your devotion to evil and give praise to Satan… drink from the challis and drench yourself in his sacrament…”
I took a big gulp of my salty piss from the challis, lying back on the bed I poured the remainder of its contents across my body and soaking the sheets and right through to the mattress below in the process. I kept masturbating as I pissed full force over myself, trying to catch more of His divine sacrament into my open mouth. As I pushed on my bladder, I felt my bowels move as they did, I could hear the voices pressing me, encouraging me; demanding me; ordering me.
“Excrement… Excrement… do it in your bedding. Masturbate in your feces…”
The smell was strong and heady as I emptied my guts between my legs. I felt giddy with how sick I was behaving. I reached between my legs and felt the warm mess that I had made on the bed sheet. Usually I would have found the stench awful and the sensation of touching my own shit too disgusting to contemplate – but I did not feel or react that way. In fact, I felt completely the opposite.
With my hand full of my own shit, I brought it to my face, smelling the disgusting contents of my toxic bowels; smearing it over my face, torso and cock before licking the residue on my fingers.
“Pray to your cock goddess! Feed me your seed…”
I was very close to orgasm, titillated at the edge with the bitterness in my mouth. I felt sordid, evil, repulsive and I loved it. I wrapping my filthy hands around my cock and jacked into complete oblivion! My climax sending me into convulsions of sick pleasure beyond anything I had ever experienced before – my semen exploded from my aching balls spraying over the piss and shit that already coated my body as I fell back breathless upon the ghastly mess I had made in the bed sheets!
SUCCUBUS NIGHTMARE – FIFTH NIGHT (1,246 WORDS)
“Call me to your bed…”
I awake to the sound of a distant voice; that deep sultry guide that had visited me every night since I had moved in. The initial voice of resistance, that much younger, tentative voice, no longer seemed to try to change my mind anymore; in fact, it too seemed to be as hell bent on encouraging my disgusting behavior as her voice – as I had come to know it as…
“Call me to your bed…”
My eyes were wide open and I knew what she wanted; I was weak too resist the tantalizing temptations of her purring timber. I was already hard as iron, tenting the thin sheet that covered me. Fires burned and cracked, flames leapt higher as the primal beat pulsated in my head, the percussion of illicitness… a night possession, singing the praise to the beast… from her cauldron of sin, she brought her evil sovereignty… the horned goddess of both male and female anatomy… blessed androgyny… drinking our sexual sin… naked hermaphrodite dancers with strange skeletal masks, erect cocks, wet cunts, circled the flames, the red eerie light illuminated their erotic movements.
“Goddess. I need you.”
I pulled the sheet from my body and lay on my back completely naked in the darkness and waited. She was coming. I knew it. My body trembled all over from head to foot with mini involuntary electric spasms – not unpleasant, but it reminded me of how much I was no longer in control. I try to lift my arms but they felt so heavy and dull, as if made of lead. The harder I tried to move the more pressure I felt against my useless limbs. I tried to lift my head and again I felt the same sensation as my arms, neck and shoulder. I resided to the fact that the goddess wanted me to remain still, as I as could be. Comatose. Read for her.
“Call me to your bed…”
The voice seemed closer, more in insistent; as if said through gritted teeth; I could detect a more aggressive and more determined agenda – a command not a request.
“Goddess. I need you.”
For the second time, in longest time, I actually felt a moment of fear. A childish memory crept into my mind – this was not the first time I had felt this kind of nighttime helplessness. Like it or not, I would be hers. It was as if I had awakened inside another person’s dream – or nightmare.
It felt as if invisible hands were masturbating me – small child-like fingers gripped my cock and stroked me slowly. It was a feeling that I remembered countless times before as a young boy myself – obviously this was not the first time that I had been milked by my invisible lover.
I instantly knew what she wanted. Not sate with me to cum over so-called normal sexual thoughts; my invisible lover wanted blasphemous thoughts. Debauchery. Sick fantasies. She demanded evil twisted sexual thoughts.
“Yes.” I thought I said out loud but it could have been still inside my mind. I just could not tell anymore as the lines between reality and dream were now completely blurred. I was rewarded. The pleasure increased immediately. Incredible. Oh that felt so fucking good!
I told myself to let go – to allow myself to dig deeper into my war chest of perverse fantasies. As the demon children stroked my pre-cum dripping cock, I would imagine a flesh feast for Satan. Incest between pre-teen boys, committing sodomy upon the phallic altar; the androgynous god of cocks demanded human sacrifice – hell, she/he demanded an endless stream of them, innocent ones hung in cages around the pornographic temple of sin – they would be shocked and trembling with fear at the very sight of this profane ritual. I was her high priest in the shrine of wickedness. Ass-to-mouth. Defecation in praise of the evil gods – the shit-eating orgy had begun. Sex with beasts; as the priests would partake of the fresh. Ritual slaughter. Sexual cannibalism. But first there would be the orgy of abuse and rape – animalistic pleasures unchecked, unbridled and never ending. Coercion. Corruption. Devil worship. Hell on earth.
“He is the one… hail cock goddess!”
It was I who lay upon the altar bed my cock been prepared by a pre-teen altar girl. As I dreamily lifted my head, I could see her morph from the shadowy orgy… the cock goddess, her goat-like-head, waifish body, small pert breasts, and erect cock.
“Goddess. I need you.”
She slowly mounted the altar bed, her enormous cock dripped with sticky fluids. The altar girl took my cock into her tiny mouth as the cock goddess parted my thighs and pushed her cock head against my anus. Her long white fingers gripped my legs as she pushed forward, so that a couple of inches of her cock were already inside my tight nether-hole. I grunted in the uncomfortable feeling of her anal penetration. My ass was full of shit. The altar girl now mounted my face… I eagerly licked at her tiny cunt hole as she feverishly rubbed it back and forth across my mouth. She paused and hovered above my face. I dreamily opened my mouth to receive her gush of hot salty piss as I felt my cock goddess push another couple of inches further into my shitty bowels.
“He is the one… hail cock goddess!”
The androgynous goddess pulled back slightly and then slipped her huge veined organ back up my shit-tube, plowing deeper inside of me with each thrust of her hips. I felt full. Stuffed. It hurt awfully, but I didn’t want it to stop. The altar girl pushed back along my flat stomach and guided my iron hard cock towards the wetness between her little white legs. She pressed her small lips against mine and kissed my pissy mouth. Our tongues twisted together, as my grunts punctuated the cock goddess’ slow thrusts in and out. My breath become shallow and guttural. Just as the goddess thrust into me, I felt the altar girl thrust backwards against her movement upon the length of my cock, moving almost in unison – the effects on me were driving me insane!
“Hail cock goddess! Hail cock goddess!”
The pre-teen altar girl grunted over and over in my ear with each thrust of the goddess filling my bowels as I in turned filled the girl’s tight cunt – we all moved as one, we were the living altar to satanic bliss. As the cock goddess lent forward to kiss my mouth, she extended her long forked tongue. I opened my lips to allow her full access to my mouth. Her goat-like snout pressed hard against me and her fowl breath stunk of urine and feces.
I knew I was very close to orgasm, but the goddess seemed to keep me hovering at the edge of the ultimate ecstasy… her cock pounding me now balls deep as the altar girl sat upright milking my dick, she pulled back her exposed urethra and began to urinate over me again, her small fingers pressed against her opening to direct the arch of golden salty fluids towards my open mouth. At that moment my insides turned white hot with spurt after spurt of evil seed, exploded inside my unworthy guts as the cock goddess roared in pleasure; I too felt my release inside the small girl whose vaginal muscles seemed to clinch my shaft and milk every drop of my semen inside of her.
Needless to say, the next morning, that the mess had shocked me. I had to throw out the mattress and bleach the bed sheets. I had also purchased a plastic mattress cover – just in case the goddess may return…
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