~ P R E S E N T S ~
Tumescent Tales
Bestial Lust
Draconis BlackthorneA cold southern breeze gusts with bone-chilling foreboding upon this night of the full moon, which resembles a crystal ball sifting through rumbling, black and blue cumulus clouds. A narrow pathway surrounded by trees is showered with spurts of moonlight, shafting in through the leaves. A cortege' rides through with haste, fearing the tales of werewolves in the area. Lately, the Police found the mutilated, chewed-up carcass of a female with the entire ribcage exposed, like something had been feasting upon her. The thing is, that there are no animals in this area who have jaws that wide. SO the question remains, what was it? Could it possibly have been.........a werewolf?
In the carriage here rides a duchess on her way to attend the funeral of a close friend, the unfortunate girl found torn apart. She looks out the window seeing the greenery of the English countryside go by, seemingly mesmerized by the movement of the swaying trees. The vibrations of the carriage makes her uncomfortable --- although in the best way. She decides to admire the jewelry in her gembox again, as she has done countless times before. A ruby ring. glistening like her lips, an emerald necklace the color of her eyes, which seems to have its own inner glow, a diamond broach, the usual crystalline reflections act like a prism, reflecting rainbow colors upon her pretty face. Just then she sighs, closes the box, and wonders about when she will meet her prince charming.
She reaches into her bag, and pulls out a sterling-silver lain mirror. She is a playful duchess. She begins to lick her lips as the warmth elevates within her blushing body. Suddenly, the Victorian dress becomes quite stuffy, forcing her to untie a couple of notches on her boustie' top. She fans herself, but then realizes that the heat is emanating from within, not without, and must be vented. She unfastens her hairclip, letting her long locks splash down upon her pale shoulders like an erubescent waterfall. The breeze which circumvents the carriage blows her waves upon the back of the chair. Now, her hand moves to her breasts, and the other sinks down into her dress, lifting it up to appease the insatiable fire. Her red nails gently enter her engorged genitalia, as fingertips fiercely rub against the nub of her clitoris. With the other hand, she licks the length of her index finger, wetting and squeezing her now erect nipples, now exposed to the night air. The deliciously fresh and pungent aroma from her seething cleft floats out into the darkness --- a howl in the distance stops her for a moment, but the ecstatic sensations continue, so she injects another finger into her forbidden chambers, which drips like oozing honey around her cavernous walls. She tastes of her lustful nectar with closed eyes, relishing her own beauty. She gasps in quick breaths, almost unable to even inhale, for he overwhelming stimulations are resplendent. Reaching the summit of pleasure, she moans, her muscles flexing within soft skin and lace.
With this noise, the driver becomes concerned, motioning the horses to stop. The duchess feels the carriage slowing, but her world still moves in a slow revolution. In her disoriented state, she fails to notice the shocked yet pleased expression on the driver's face peeking in the window at her, with a nervous stream of sweat trailing down his brow, as he has also begun to masturbate. Finally, she comes to her senses, though still in the after-bliss, when she sees him. But she is not offended --- she smiles, inviting him in. His eyes widen, a smirk grows upon his face, as he feverishly struggles with the doorknob, finally entering.
They kiss deeply, as he grabs hold of her heaving breasts. He sucks and licks at her pastry-flesh, as her head rears back, playing with his hair. Without warning, he pulls off her panties, and thrusts his face between her legs. savoring the warm, rushing fluids as he continues to masturbate. She lets out a high-pitched squeal, when his tongue touches that preciously sensitive zone. Just then, another howl is heard --- but this time it is closer than the first. A chill crawls up both of their spines, calling to mind the local horror stories. But this time, the duchess derives an uneasy feeling like something sinister is watching them from the woods. She stops the driver for a moment, squinting to see through the misty moors into the woodland. Her heart jumps to her throat when she witnesses a rapid, dark form moving between the trunks of the trees, with two trails of light following it. Could those have been eyes? She tells the driver what she saw, but he refutes her, to which she pushes him away, ordering him to drive on with haste. He mumbles something under his breath, pulls up his pants, and exits the door ready to remount his seat.
But as he looks up from tightening his belt, a massive, upright, hairy creature upon two legs greets his terrified eyes with panting, snarling ferocity. The last thing he sees is the darkness within the jaws of the hell-beast, as it clamps down, biting off his whole head and neck to the shoulders. He fidgets in one last convulsion, and the corpse falls over with a thud, blood gushing from the headless carcass. It crunches down upon the skull, swallowing skin, hair, and brains. It vomits forth a nightmarish howl that sets the most ferocious dog to whimper, and drives the whole population of the forest to quiver and hide. It begins to feast, when it smells the acrid feminine odor that met its nostrils earlier. It turns from its kill, with veins, severed muscle, and dripping blood in its teeth, unto the duchess, who straight-away faints. The werewolf seems to chuckle to itself, as it finishes gnawing at the meat on the scraping bones of its prey.
The skeletal remains of the victim becomes quickly surrounded by ants, maggots, flies, and worms, who will eventually finish off the few strands of flesh left. The werewolf licks its chops with a long, serpentine tongue, and looks over to where the duchess lay unconscious. It rips the door off its hinges, and carries her into the cold, dark fog of the wilderness.
She awakes to find herself in a cave, covered with a blanket. As she looks about, she sees a handsome youth who is also wrapped in a blanket. He is dressed in fine attire, displaying the long hair of an intellectual noble. When he notices her conscious, he smiles, asking her if she's feeling better now, after her ordeal. She immediately inquires as to where she is and who he is, to which the articulate lad explains to her the travail of being a werewolf. He explains that this is the place where he always comes to dress after the nakedness of the transformation. He is a prince who had become afflicted when on a fox-hunt, and was attacked by a werewolf when he parted from the group. It was then warded off by a gypsy woman waving a pentacle talisman. As she listened, the noticed that there was something endearing about this prince --- a sort of charm which is slowly causing her to fall in love with him.
She thinks to herself, ".....have I found my prince?"
The remorseful sufferment seems to be deep in him, and she consoles him. Even though this was the person who killed her best friend, she strangely finds no fault with him. He builds a small fire to keep them warm on this chilly night. They huddle in the lambent chamber. They kiss gently, as the fire flickers, crackles, and snaps. The embers float up to the roof of the cave, and bounce to the outside, like many little fire sprites. He nestles her onto the blanket on the ground, their tongues entwirl into one.
She unties the front of his shirt, which he then pulls of in haste. Her hands spread across the muscles of his chest as they continue deep-kissing and caressing. Her lips move down to his neck, her tongue wetting his flesh, sucking like a vampire would in the same situation. Down further to his chest, she kisses his nipples, moving down towards his abdomen, licking each individual muscle. With tongue thrust out, she leads the tip lower over his pubic hair, over the long, wide, throbbing, striated muscle which now stands outwards before her gawking face. She brings her mouth forward and over it, feeling the blood rush just beneath the skin, their two pulses as one. Sliding in and out of her hungry mouth with glistening spittle, he shakes uncontrollably. letting out a primal groan as she sucks even harder. His elongated shaft like porcelain in the dim moonlight quells with curdling serum. He moans as the volcanic semen makes its way to the top of his chrome-like glans. With wild-flailing, he cries out, as she watches him in chaotic throes. She smiles, and eagerly gulps down the shooting white liquid. It is so much, she drools the thick waters, which drips magmatically down across her breasts and belly.
Eagerly, she pulls him on top of her, digging her nails into his buttocks. He winces, then rubs the tip of his burgeoning manhood up and down her waiting canal. With a slow push, he eases up into her now thoroughly lubricated, tight rosy tunnel. She surrounds him in a pressing flesh embrace. Breathing becomes increasingly heavier between them, hot breath exhaled into eachother's ears, as the pounding thrusts become harder and harder, and HARDER! Her eyes are closed, his mouth on her throat like a bloodthirsty viper, he begins growling louder and louder. She feels him becoming deeper and thicker within her, like his penis has had a spontaneous growth beyond normal. She moans with a growing pain in her loins, smiling and grimacing at the same time. erupting like a geyser upon the sex-weapon within her. Slickened and unstoppable.
The pain continues to surmount, as she opens her eyes, and beholds before her the fur-covered horror, eyes piercing into her mind --- she would faint but for the excruciation. Helpless. she feels her flesh tearing within her, and blood trickling out from her distended lips. Her pelvis begins to crack under the enormous weight pressing down upon her. Her spine shakes with each tremendous thrust. The creature howls most savagely, the hair-raising noise echoing through the labyrinth of caves, causing a legion of shrieking bats to scatter, blackening the night.
With another howl more frightening than the last, it finally slides out of her, covered with blood and demonseed, expelling seemingly endless amounts of sove upon her, so that she is virtually enveloped in the white pulp of life. As the magmatic juice spurts out of the rod's head, blood drips from its underside onto her stomach. Red and white swirls cover her from head to toe. It makes her to suck it, clogging her throat, She tastes the copper of the blood, intermingled with the werewolf's richness. It then flips her over onto her stomach, pressing her face harshly upon the cold, rocky ground of the cave's floor. With sharp claws, the werewolf parts her cheeks wide open, keeping her ultimate nakedness in plain site, holding its stake-like spear, painfully forcing it hard into her bleeding rectum. She clenches her fists and cries out, as it impales her posterior repeatedly, its fur brushing up against the backs of her legs. She can feel the thickness up against her spine, deeper still into flesh, muscle, and bone, ripping tissue on the way up into the intestines. It creates friction between itself and her entrails, to finally culminate in another unbelievable explosion of sick desire.
It drives relentlessly into her massacred womb, that he begins to spit blood from her mouth. Yet strangely, she finds that the pain is turning to pleasure, in the most masochistic manner. Now she actually urges the beast to continue, obviously realizing her death is inevitable. Its bloodlust grows more intense, not recognizing the fate of the girl in its animalistic state, lapping her neck and back with its long tongue. Her orifices now devastated, as gaping ravaged holes.
With a final breath, she utters, "I love you, my prince......" and finally dies. Her ghost arise ethereally in white mist, reflecting off the monster's black, marble-like eyeballs.
The moon fades as daybreak comes along, the horizon as red as the bloodstained cave, which the bats have now congregated upon, drawing and pooling blood from her wounds. The werewolf moves off in exhaust, its fur covered in sweet crimson death. The lycanthropy transfigures the abomination back to its humanistic form. Naked in the corner, he sleeps.........
Upon his awakening near evening, he surveys the terrible sight of his lover's body sliced to ribbons, his kin predator wolves fighting eachother for scraps of the carnage, splatterings of blood everywhere. Looking down to his body, he sees the bloodstains all over himself. He grits his teeth, shuts his eyes, and lets forth a yell that makes the morning birds take to flight. He tearfully shuts his eyes, and contemplates what he must do. With complete exasperation, he gathers her remaining pieces, and puts them in a sack, carrying them back to the cortege'. He takes the reins, ushering the still terrified horses down the road into town. On the way there, he reads upon the driver's logue book, the original destination.
At the graveyard, there are figures in black weeping the loss of a beautiful, vivacious maiden killed by a mystery. Little did they know, that when she and her duchess friend were little girls, they made a pact that they would both die together, and she and the duchess would spend eternity together with their princes.
The carriage is an ominous site. driven by a disheveled prince. now resembling a peasant in tattered clothes. He stops right near the open grave under the coffin which was about to be lowered into the earth, and drops the sack into the pit, and he himself with it. The townspeople, or course, figure him mad, and summon the authorities. He confesses everything, to which he is placed in an asylum. But at the very next full moon, he proves his allegations, providing the evidence of his lycanthropic craze by murdering the cruel headmaster, and is finally executed by silver bullets, which one superstitious guard just happened to provide.
A serene smile upon his face, he dies a happy prince, together with his precious duchess forever.
