Enchanted Dreams: Erotic Tales Of The Supernatural. Nancy Madore
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She continued to rub up against him rhythmically, slowly maneuvering herself until his erection found its way in between her legs. And still she kept undulating her hips back and forth over him, enjoying the exquisitely tantalizing foreplay.
She could feel his heartbeat pounding in time with hers, but neither of them was in a hurry to put an end to the delicious torment. They knew the moment would come when all of their movements and gyrations would at last cause his erection to find its own way into her. And when it finally did, only then did Dan clamp his arms and legs around her body to hold her firmly in place as he mindlessly drove himself into her. Their bodies, which were entwined together as one and still lying down sideways, were periodically propelled forward in time with his thrusts. Maryanne couldn’t move so much as an inch, Dan held her so fully restrained. But she was content, for the moment, to simply bask in the pleasure of having him exactly where she wanted him. All of her instincts rose up within her, curling and mingling with her most intense desires. “Listen,” her instincts seemed to be saying. “Listen to your heart and accept what is.”
She passively allowed him to hold her during this exquisite assault for as long as she was able, relishing each and every deliciously agonizing moment of delayed gratification that it brought. The pleasure she would gain from prolonging and extending her own satisfaction would be immense. And in the meantime, she enjoyed every single thrust of his body into hers, delighting in the feel of him as he took her with reckless abandon. And she could tell that he was in no hurry, either, but, rather, he was in a mood to take his time and savor every stroke right along with her. She let her hands run over his strong, muscular arms, reveling in the way they so fully restrained her. She loved the feeling of being momentarily powerless and completely surrendering to the man that she loved.
Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, with hers gracefully arching upward in time with his thrusts like a well-choreographed dance, and neither one wanted it to end. They remained entwined this way for the better part of an hour. But Maryanne’s desire, which had merely been simmering so far, was suddenly about to erupt into a boil.
She began to struggle against him. Her hips were first to buck and thrash, and then her arms and legs followed. When he loosened his hold on her, she moved up onto her knees, clutching his hips to hers as she went so he would not leave her for a single instant. Her growing excitement as she now took control spurred him on even more. He glided his hands lovingly over her body, caressing her breasts and teasing her nipples. He let his fingers roam lower until they found her swollen clitoris and began prodding and teasing it mercilessly. She used her thighs to propel her body up and down on him in time with his thrusts. As his hands moved over her, so, too, did hers reach behind to caress him.
Maryanne moaned loudly with pleasure as she pumped her hips over Dan’s rock-hard erection. She felt the giddying sensations of her impending orgasm rising up in her, causing her to become even more reckless in her utter abandon. She clutched his hips in her hands, pulling him into her even as she pushed backward, making his thrusts go deeper. Her nails dug into his flesh as she held him, but her aggressiveness only further inflamed Dan. He, too, became more impassioned, and his fingers on her clitoris became more forceful, coaxing and prodding the little swollen nub relentlessly. With his other hand, he pinched her nipples ruthlessly.
Maryanne’s hips kept thrashing violently, even as the heady sensations of her orgasm began to erupt within her. In a sudden frenzy, she turned her face toward Dan’s, and he immediately captured her lips in a passionate kiss. Her hands flew up around his neck and she clung to him so that she could kiss him more passionately. Her cry of pleasure was muffled by the kiss, but suddenly Dan’s head flew back in ecstasy as his own release hit him. In that very instant, Maryanne’s fingernails bore into the back of his neck, effectively paralyzing him. His body continued to ejaculate even more vigorously as she plunged her teeth into his neck and ripped out a large portion of his flesh. He could do little more than stare in disbelief as she began to devour him. She ate with relish, suddenly oblivious to everything else but her incredible hunger. Dan could not move or speak. His final moments were spent in an unfathomable paradox between the ultimate pleasure and the most unthinkable horror.
When Maryanne’s hunger finally waned, Dan’s head had all but been severed. She moved away from him, strangely at peace. It was, she told herself, for the best. There was no more self-loathing or regret. She had finally learned to accept herself, and ironically she had Dan to thank for that.
Maryanne sat on the edge of the bed, slender and straight-backed, with her head tilted slightly forward in that timid way that she had, and her hands clasped in front of her as if in prayer. She allowed herself to rock lightly from side to side, now that she was alone. She thought about the future. Unfortunately, it meant that she would once again be obliged to change her appearance and move on. But even that did not worry her overmuch. A chameleon who could blend into any environment was also an integral part of who she was. She could suddenly see the wisdom and harmony in everything that occurred around her. She would never again struggle against her own instincts or pine for a different existence. This was how things were, and from now on she would accept her reality for what it was. To struggle against it was, to Maryanne’s way of thinking, living in denial. She smiled humorlessly when she thought of the myriads of sad, empty females who allowed their inner selves to be depleted by this fallacy of holding one man’s interest and affection forever.
But she would never share her insights with anyone again. Doing so had only accelerated the process and brought about a quicker end. At all costs, she must learn to enjoy love for as long as possible before it was inevitably lost to disenchantment.
Dying For It
For the most part, they’re like you’d expect. Or at least I found this to be so. I followed one of them for weeks and, although I was often shocked, I was hardly ever genuinely surprised.
Vincent was friendly, agreeable and bright. I always observed him from a safe distance, it’s true, but his magnetism could be felt from far off. And you could see it, too, from watching those around him. They were always perfectly at ease and utterly charmed. Men and women alike found him irresistible. He had a healthy glow in his cheeks that belied any pernicious habits, dietary or otherwise. He might have been taken for a vegetarian.
I started following Vincent the very first night I discovered him. Before I was even fully conscious of it, parts of me were already tracking him from across the room.
Over the years, I had become quite a recluse. Not that I was ever the sort of person to win a popularity contest, but lately I had become more withdrawn. It wasn’t by choice, really, but more from a lack of social skills—in this field I had potential that never really got developed. I was too shy. And I was never any good at casual conversation. The trendy topics always seemed inane to me, and I could never think of anything to say when they came up. And even on those rare occasions when I did manage to think of something clever to contribute, I could never get it out successfully. My timing was usually off, so that my comments came too early or, more often, too late. Either that or I would suddenly become so timid, speaking so self-consciously and with so much anxiety, that the whole point would become lost in the utter awkwardness of my manner. In those moments, it was actually a relief to have my voice drowned out by someone louder and more confident. Eventually, I gave up. And my quietness, which might have made a more attractive woman appear demure or mysterious, rendered me all but invisible. I blended into the woodwork as inconspicuously as any ordinary knot or other imperfection. But although I am painfully shy and awkward around people, I still enjoy being around them. My need for human companionship is so strong that it doesn’t even matter if no one notices me. I’m usually content to simply watch those around me.
This, and other more recent developments, had created a great restlessness in me by the time I found Vincent. I still remember the moment I first saw him with a vividness that has more clarity than the actual event, which took place in a kind of haze of orange lighting distorted by wispy vapors of cigarette smoke. I was sitting in a dim corner of a crowded bar. It was a noisy, run-down little hole-in-the-wall with low ceilings and outdated acoustics. On that particular evening, I was glad for the noise. Every now and then a waitress would stop and say something, which always surprised me because I had come to believe that I really was becoming