Opal Fires

"I want to read the Braille of moonlight on your skin," a husky voice whispered in my ear. I turned to face the voice and saw only shadows dancing on the wall.

"Who said that?" I asked. No one answered.

An opal fire flamed in the fireplace, changing from deep red to electric blue and back to brilliant yellow and orange. When I looked closely at the flame, I saw shapes within it, melding and separating in breathtaking speed.

It was a blood moon, a red sky in October. The wind blew through the magnolia, causing the leaves to rustle together. I could hear the distant call of an owl, asking the night a question.

Moonlight lit the shadows, but not enough to reveal their secrets. Did I want to know them? Dark secrets can reveal more to a person that one is willing to see. Demons lurk inside us, biting our flesh and drinking our blood. I calmed mine with wine.

Midnight announced itself with clock's chime, the witching hour of October phantoms. I was warned that if I selected to remain awake, I would encounter the most fearsome creature that lurked in shadows on Hallows Eve. But I refused to believe the warning.

The skeptic in me laughed at the ranting of an old fool. But now, watching opal fires dance and hearing the voice cloaked in shadows, I realized I was the fool. The clock told me it was just a minute past the hour; maybe I could hide away under the covers of my bed, like a child. Everyone knows that when one hide under the bedcovers, monsters couldn't venture within.

I ran. My ruby silk robe billowed behind me, like a handkerchief waving. The shadows followed me. A force from behind knocked me onto the bed. Silk shredded like paper under demonic claws. I struggled and fought, as hot hands rubbed my body in places that were sacred. Every touch made the demons I fought within, scream for release.

"I want to read the Braille of moonlight on your skin," a husky voice whispered again. This time I looked into flaming blue eyes that held the secrets of shadows.

"No," I screamed, "help me. Somebody help me."

Moonlight illuminated the room, making my ivory skin shimmer. My ruby gown hung in shreds around my body, the moon giving it a deep crimson shade—the color of blood. Shadows moved from the corners of the room, melding into one shape—the shape of the Incubus.

The old crone who robbed my garbage can daily forewarned me this night, weeks ago. I scoffed at her, threatening her with the promise of the psychiatric ward finding her and putting her away to rot in a mental hellhole. I should have listened.

Deep gray-lavender muscles rippled across his 8-foot frame. His hands were claw-like with long fingers. The pads of his fingertips burned my skin. His thighs were thick as tree trunks. Protruding from them was a phallus of unimaginable measures. My eyes could not look at it for long, or I would become insane.

His face was a human mask over a devil's grinning face. I could see sharp yellow teeth and his breath was fire and brimstone. The only calming things about him were his eyes—those blue flamed eyes. When I looked into them, the screams that I had been emitting, were suddenly turned into little whimpers, barely audible.

His laugh was a moonbeam, and I knew I would hate the moon forever. As his fingers moved the last wisps of silk from my body, I started to tingle. Every goose bump that existed in the hidden pores of my skin became a roadmap of his travels.

I moaned, hating myself for doing so, yet falling under the spell of his touch. He pulled my nipples upward, making them long. The tips glowed with pain and a strange mixture of pleasure. He laughed.

His phallus rubbed against my moist slit. Horrified, I tried to close my legs, but only succeeded in trapping his twitching cock between them.

"Now, I will read the Braille of moonlight on your skin," he hispered.

With his long sandpapered tongue, he began to lick every inch of my skin, leaving no goose bump unturned. I moaned, lost in the alien feeling invading the surface of my body.

When he reached my pussy, I cried out, helpless at last. Surrendering to his tongue, I felt my pussy quiver under the probing touch of the rough moving object, penetrating me like I knew his cock would very soon do.

I fought against the orgasm, building. I tried to hold back the demon that lived within me, the one that fought every sinful desire I ever had, but it was useless against a monster made of nighttime shadows. So I came in waves over and over, my pussy opening and closing as if it were an enigma of its own.

He laughed, as I began to subside from my orgasmic plateau. "Now, I will read the Braille of your inner sanctum. Moonlight need not be present there," he said cruelly, as he pushed his phallus inside me.

Oh, the proportions were beyond anything I had ever encountered, real or man-made. I screamed, not from fear but from need as the demon within me, broke through the surface, shattering all inhibitions. I clawed and I bit, as he ravaged me. In my insanity of the moment, I became a shadow made of moonlight; meeting with each thrust the same need that the Incubus was consumed with.

I arched my back so that I could gather more of his humongous cock inside me. Tightly I gripped him, as he rode me to the edge of insanity, where I lost all of the schooling that my mother had instilled upon me—the skills of frigidness. Every shiver of ice inside me became a molten river of lava, scented with cum and sex. I clawed my shadow lover, as I came, screaming obscenities that I never knew existed within me.

The demon within had won. Now I was a creature of moonlight. The Incubus howled and bit me, pumping faster as he flooded me with his dark seed. Over and over he took me, until the first shadow became a reflection of dawn.

As he slipped into the last lingering shadow, he whispered, "Every night, I will read the Braille of moonlight on your skin."