Be Careful What You Ask For 8

(This story is intended for submission to the Halloween competition. Your vote is appreciated. Constructive criticisms are welcome. I hope you enjoy!)

*****

Ian opened his eyes slowly. His head buzzed. It was a distant, but annoying sound, and he wanted nothing more than to make it stop. He blinked hard and tried to focus, but the morning burned his eyes. It blinded him. He swallowed hard and held up one hand, shading his eyes in an effort to extinguish the flame.

The drone went on, making his head throb, and he groaned aloud. The alarm, he thought as he turned his head and squinted at the blinking, buzzing clock. His arm felt heavy as he made a feeble attempt to locate the source of his annoyance. He slapped at the black box and it fell to the floor with a loud clatter, but the buzzing suddenly, and thankfully stopped.

He lay immobile and uncomprehending for several moments, his senses out of balance. He wondered in his stupor what day it was, and the fog in his head slowly began to lift. His penis strained upwards and he groaned again as the need to urinate overrode his desire for sleep. He gave his penis a firm squeeze as he dragged himself upright and dangled his legs over the edge of the bed. The room was spinning and he felt a wave of nausea as he struggled to control his equilibrium.

A cool breeze wafted in through an open window and it seemed to help. He drew in a deep breath and his head cleared a little more. The nausea passed. He felt for the floor with his bare feet and made an attempt to stand on wobbling knees. He didn't bother to cover himself with the sheet. There was no one here to see him naked. If he could just make it to the bathroom, he thought as he took one unsteady step forward.

The breeze inadvertently slammed the bathroom door shut behind him, and a sharp pain shot through his temples. He grimaced and reached past the glass door, turning the knobs of the shower and adjusting the water. Steam filled the room quickly, fogging the mirror while he leaned with one hand against the wall and strained to empty his bladder.

His urine splashing against the toilet bowl made his head throb. He gave his penis a shake and stepped inside the hot shower. The water cascaded over his head and shoulders while tiny streams massaged his neck with pinpricks of agonizing pleasure. It hurt so good, he thought as he braced himself with both hands against the back wall of the shower and sighed.

"Another day in paradise," he said with dismay as he took up a bar of soap and began to lather himself. He ran the bar over his chest and under his arms, scrubbing away the evidence of the night before. His expression turned into a frown as he tried to recall the events with some clarity.

He could remember most of the day and even some of the evening. There were meetings in the morning between his lawyer and his publicist's attorneys. Despite the arguments, addendums, and deletions, he had signed the contracts where he was told to sign, before being whisked away to a book signing at a small shop in the city.

He spun around and let the water blast against his forehead and cheeks. He hated the book signings, almost as much as he hated the cocktail parties meant to help promote the sales of his latest novels. He was only grateful that despite it being All Hallows Eve, he hadn't been forced to wear some ridiculous costume. It was a formal affair. More often than not, he drank far too much and ate far too little at those types of gatherings, trying to obliterate the faces of fawning females who called themselves his admirers and fans.

In the past, there had been the occasional liaison, usually one-night stands that never worked out very well, but these days, he shunned the idea of even those. The women were gold-diggers, or worse yet, bored, married housewives with the idea that he was the cure for whatever marital disease plagued them.

But, last night, there had been a woman. Ian ran his soapy hands over his genitals, turning his back to the spray and building a soapy beard over his pelvic region. Yes, he was beginning to remember now. There had, indeed, been a woman. He was certain of that.

She had approached him at the bar, but not before he felt her presence. It was one of those strange happenings when you know someone is watching you before you actually see them. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and even now, it made a shiver run through him. His cock bobbed up and down, waving in empty air as he washed himself. The idea of the woman made it stiffen even more.

Even as a novelist, words seemed to escape him as he thought of how she looked, gliding across the room, dressed in a long, slinky, scarlet gown that left nothing to the imagination. She had dark, auburn hair and green eyes, flecked with gold. He was sure of that. He positively couldn't forget those eyes. Ian grasped his cock firmly and begin stroking it slowly, closing his eyes and picturing the woman.

She didn't say a single word when she approached him. She just stared at him over the rim of her glass with those amazing eyes. After a moment, she handed him her glass and walked away as if she expected him to follow her. He did. He slammed the glasses on the bar, tossed down a tip, and followed her straight to the elevator. She was waiting for him there, holding the door open until he walked right in.

Somehow, he had paused long enough to grab a full-length fur coat that someone handed him as he strode out the door. He wrapped the coat around her shoulders and pressed the button that whisked them down to the first floor. Still, not a word passed between them. Not even when he handed her inside the waiting limousine, and climbed in beside her.

As the limo sped along the city streets, she lifted the hem of her gown and took his hand, guiding it between her thighs. She didn't close her eyes. Hell, she didn't even blink! She just stared at him with that hypnotic look.

Her pussy was bald. It was as smooth as the silk dress she wore, soft and warm to his touch. He stroked it as if he was petting a cat. She opened her legs and thrust her pelvis upwards. He could smell her scent, sensual and musky, rich with the smell of animal sex. It was intoxicating. He told himself that he had simply drank too much, but it was everything about her that made his head swim.

The inner lips of her cunt were slippery and his finger glided inside of her without a second of hesitation. It was as if she had been waiting for him, working herself into a sexual state of readiness, and she made a purring sound in her throat as he slid inside. That tight little snatch closed around his finger and sucked at it like a child gobbling down candy.

She reluctantly pulled his hand away just as the car wheeled next to the curb and stopped in front of an old restored apartment building. She stared into his eyes as she parted her lips and sucked his finger inside. Her tongue curled around the appendage, licking it clean, sucking it into the back of her throat for pure pleasure. Then, the door swung open and she stepped from the vehicle without a backward glance. Ian followed.

There was another silent elevator ride as they made their way to an upper floor, exiting and following a corridor to a set of heavy, wooden French-doors. She retrieved a key from a small handbag and slid it in the lock. The door swung open and what lay beyond was a virtual den of iniquity.

If the building was old, the apartment was rich and contemporary in its furnishings. Plush white carpet covered the living room floor. A fireplace burned as if it was constantly tended, putting off an odor of smoke and ash. Heavy drapes framed a lovely view of the city skyline and he paused in front of the window to take advantage of the rare sight.

The woman placed a fresh glass of bourbon and rocks in his hand while she sipped at a chalice of rich red wine. Yes, it was a chalice he confirmed with a frown. It was silver if he didn't miss his guess. He pursed his lips to ask her name, but she placed a finger to them to silence his questions. She took his hand and led him towards another set of double doors.

Her heels clicked against hardwood floors as they passed through the doors. Another fire roared against the far wall. A four-poster bed dressed in white satin sheets and topped with a thick down comforter posed an invitation, as it seemed to beckon to him. She set her cup aside and slid the narrow straps of her gown down past her shoulders. The gown crumpled at her feet and she stood naked before him, except for the spiked heels she still wore.

His breath became ragged as he peeled off his dinner jacket and tossed it aside. He wrapped his arms around her and she pressed her buttocks against the front of his pants, again, purring as he rubbed his rigid cock against her ass. She turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his head down towards her open lips.

Her tongue slithered past his lips, flicking at his tongue while dodging his attempts to entrap it and suck at it with his own. It was like being kissed by a snake, he thought as she delicately licked at his lips and explored the dark cavern that was his mouth. She pulled at him, laying back on the bed with her knees spread wide, and bringing him down on top of her as she did. His cock strained for release from his britches.

Her body was perfection, flawless and beautiful. Her skin was dark and smooth. Her breasts were firm and high with nipples that stood at full attention even when not being fondled. He sucked one inside his mouth and she moaned softly. He squeezed the other, massaging it firmly in his palm. She thrust her hips upwards rubbing her mound against his stiff rod. She pushed on his shoulders pressing him downward.

"Drink," she murmured with a sigh as he fell to his knees between her open thighs. He thought it was an odd request, but he didn't pause to ponder the queer demand. He lifted her legs over his shoulders and bowed his head, closing his lips over the bud that peeked from under its hooded cloak. A garbled growl of desire escaped her lips as he sucked her clit between his lips.

The scent was there again. The scent of a wanton woman and he inhaled deeply as he slid his tongue along the succulent slit between her pouting lips. He peeled them back with his thumbs and drank from what was a spring of sexual juices, whetting his thirst, and provoking his own urgent needs.

He slid a finger inside and she used her muscles to grip it tight. It made him crazy with wanting. He forced another digit along side the first, probing deep and stroking her cervix with a steady rhythm. Her pussy was on fire, sucking at his hand, drawing it deeper inside while a steady stream of nectar flowed from the small chasm. He abruptly withdrew and came to his feet, fumbling with the zipper on the front of his pants.

His cock burst forth and his pants slid down around his knees. He was panting when he folded her legs back, holding her ankles at arm's length and gazing down at that beautiful, satin cunt now openly displayed before him. His cock throbbed and danced a merry dance of delight as the head of his penis glistened in the firelight. He grasped it tight and guided it towards the open well.

He groaned as it slid inside of her and he seized the heels of her shoes, again pressing her legs backwards, forcing them apart and hovering only inches above her shoulders. She was pinned beneath him and he was plowing himself inside of her like a rutting bull.

A rumbling began. It was more of a feeling than a sound. It started in his testicles, quivering, shaking, and causing his scrotum to shrink tight. It traveled along the nerves and muscles of his abdomen and stomach, rising upwards towards his throat. His buttocks clenched, his knees trembled, and his body began to quake.

The rumble was a noise now, clear and discernible. He opened his mouth, gasping for air and a bellow of lustful pleasure filled the night. He was cumming.

He opened his eyes to watch her face as he erupted inside of her. She was staring at him with a distant look of salacious satisfaction, like the cat that had just swallowed the canary whole. A volcanic spew of ejaculate, hot and thick, shot from the head of his penis. Wave after wave of primal pleasure swept over him as he squirmed between her open legs, emptying his cock until there was nothing left to give.

His organ jerked as he slowly withdrew. She hadn't made a sound since her command for him to imbibe himself of her earthy waters.

"What do you want, Ian?" she asked in a sultry purr. And, for a moment, he wondered how she knew his name. But, that was ridiculous. He was a successful author and she was in attendance at a cocktail party held in his honor. Of course she knew him. He had the uneasy feeling that she knew him far better than he would have liked. She gave him a quizzical look as she waited expectantly for his answer.

He released his hold on her and sank down on the bed beside her. He was covered in perspiration. He stroked her skin and marveled at how cool and composed she seemed. He grunted and half smiled. Another unfulfilled female, he thought with some irony to himself. He did not answer immediately, but instead, pondered the question to himself for a moment.

"Does it matter?" he retorted, cavalierly shrugging his shoulders at her as he wiped at the beads of sweat on his chest. He glanced uneasily at her and she nodded silently, still staring at him from behind those piercing eyes.

He noted the curve of her hips as she yawned and stretched lazily beside him. She rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin comfortably on the backs of her hands, blinking innocuously at him. To his utter amazement, his penis roused at the sight of her bare buttocks.

A knowing smile curved the corners of her mouth, and she wet her lips with her tongue before smoothly sliding her knees under her and arching her back. Her arms were stretched in front of her and her hips were rocking back and forth in the air. She was taunting him, teasing him back into a state of interest. His prick sprang to life at the silent invitation.

"I want your ass," he growled impatiently, half expecting a resounding denial on her part. She blinked and smiled, waving her ass at him and purring yet again. He scrambled to his knees and gripped her hips hard, jerking her towards him and forcing her rear higher. She didn't resist his rough handling. In fact, she spread her knees a bit wider for his convenience and sighed as if she were totally accepting of his idea.

Her pussy was oozing the remnants of his last discharge, and he rubbed the head of his cock against her lips, smearing the head of it with slippery cum. He centered his attention on the objective tunnel and thrust hard against it. Like the mouth of a hungry fledgling, it opened, allowing him inside the confines of her rectum. He gasped as the entrance snapped shut around the shaft of his penis well below the bulbous purple head.

She didn't even whimper. She welcomed the invasion without reservation and quickly began to thrust herself backwards against him. Shadows danced on the walls and ceiling, an eerie effect of the flickering fire that still burned bright across the room.

The air was heavy, smoky, although it should not have been. He shook his head as he imagined a pungent odor in the air. It smelled like matches burning and it seared his eyes and nostrils.

"Is this what you want, Ian?" she asked from over her shoulder as he pumped his organ inside of her. He growled in response, increasing his tempo and clenching the cheeks of her ass in a deadly grip. He was humping her steadily now and the heat of their coupling began to increase. He was annoyed by her questions, and he sought to silence her by ruthlessly ravaging her from behind.

"Make it cum, Ian," she urged with a hiss, as she met his pace with vigor equal to his own. She ground her hips against him, taking him all and stroking his cock with passionate fervor.

"Who are you?" he demanded between gritted teeth as he pounded his hips against the backs of her thighs. His question was met with a tinkling laughter like the sound of breaking glass.

She squeezed him tight and bucked her hips upwards. The glass shattered as his cock swelled and burst like a stormy sea, the waves driving them both forward, drawing them under. He was drowning inside of her.

Ian's consciousness was immersed in darkness. He thought he heard the sound of her voice as she whispered, "You're mine now. I own your soul."

It was like a distant call on the wind. It was vague, almost imperceptible, but he was sure he had heard it. There was no mistaking something like that, was there?

Ian opened his eyes just as his fisted cock spurted a wad of cum against the tile wall of the shower. The water was only warm now, no longer steaming, and he wondered as he groaned with pleasure just how long he had being jerking himself off. He twitched involuntarily as another gush of ropy semen splattered against the shower floor.

His pleasure was interrupted by the sound of a ringing phone. He hurriedly rinsed himself off and turned off the shower, grabbing a towel and padding across the hardwood floors towards the nightstand.

"Hello!" he snapped with irritation into the receiver. It was his long-time friend and lawyer, Frank Miller. "Yeah, Frank. I'm here," Ian responded to his friend's salutation. The conversation droned on for several minutes as they discussed the new contracts he had signed the day before.

As they were about to conclude their business, Ian spontaneously inquired, "Hey, buddy. Who was that woman I hooked up with last night? Do you know her?"

"What woman?" Frank inquired sounding confused. Ian described the woman as best he could without going into any intimate details of their liaison. Frank chuckled light-heartedly at Ian's recollection of the evening before.

"Man, you have got to stop drinking so much!" he jousted. "There was no woman. I put you into a taxi myself. And, there was no woman like that at the bar. I should know. I sent the invitations out myself. Maybe you need a long vacation, my friend. That imagination of yours is starting to worry me some."