A XXXecil for hire story commission, part 2. While it is a rousing tale in its own right; it would be better to read 'Hell's Housewife' first.
*
Hungrily, their lips tugged against each other. Scarcely did the rutting couple notice the vehicle in which they rode, the bumps and jostles of the faux ambulance as it conveyed them to where -- they did not care. The boy's rampant, male lusts where a convenient tool; the shill she would use to feed to feast... Heather did not quite understand why.... How precisely; just that it was important that this boy thrust his raging tool up -- up into the sopping depths of her clenching sex.
'Yes boy, lust after me, shag me with all your strength...' She thought with a quiver of delight, as his shaky hands pawed mercilessly at her voluminous boobage. Such a convenient balance -- his lust, her hunger. She clenched his shoulders with anticipation; knowing that her manprey would not have the luxury of simply cumming once and deflating for the evening. There would be no interruptions, nothing to stop his drilling, pounding, gushing into her ravening cunt. Heather sensed that her mysterious benefactor would not stop her, would allow her all the Rush, all the Cum she could seduce from his balls with wet coaxes of pulsating vaginal velvet.
A hoarse grown tore itself from her throat as she seemed to lose control of her pussy. Her womb throbbed and writhed, swirling motions made by pure instinct. There was something old within Heather's body. An old intelligence. Something that knew how to moan, undulate atop -- or beneath a man to send his skyrocketing libido into orgiastic overdrive -- a slave to his virile impulses until his white, wet reward fed the lusty chasm that drenched between her thighs.
"Harrrrrd...." She snarled at her manprey. "Fuck me harrrrrrrrderrrrrr...." She wrapped her legs around his pelvis, heels pressing at his lower back; a primal invitation to deluge her most fertile core with the hot virility of his spurting reward. A breeding signal. But Heather was on sexual autopilot now; the sultry intellect that lusted beneath the surface of her thoughts told her that such pronouncements will enhance a man's vigor -- his effort. "Longer... harder!" She ordered.
As her erstwhile mate wept furtive tears of lip-quivering joy, it seemed he could not decide whether to seize or caress her. Those overflowing silk-mountains of jiggle-happy tit-melons that jostled, shook with feminine potency within his sweat-slicked, ecstatic grip. They beckoned to his mind, his desire with their hyper-ripe curvaceous splendor.
Neither seemed to notice the bedding, or the plastic containers of medical supplies seeming to smoke, or curl with an unnatural source of heat.
Indeed the boy -- it wasn't necessary for her to remember his name -- ejaculated so explosively that he did not even notice his own hair withering into ash and blowing away into grey-white particulates from the infernal energies surrounding them both. So great was his orgasm that nothing else factored in. Still, Heather dimly wondered whether the new sensations from her body would be cause to give her lover alarm.
The feeding, the Rush, the pleasure-charged sperm that her pussy devoured so eagerly created such bliss that it didn't matter to Heather the fact that her shoulder blades were burning. Nor, that piercing ache right above her bulging ass. What mattered was the greed for his cock, his sperm. But he would not be the last, not by any means.
The manprey would be her primer... to prepare the way for the people she'd sensed in the stadium. Those three whom she knew it was her destiny to fuck. But for now, his dick -- his sperm would be enough. Until she had the chance she needed to track down her real targets.
Nothing would stop her, not the waves of heat her body produced, not the strange, new tingling on her fingers, not the fact that the ambulance had pulled into a parking garage, seemingly to look for a secluded place to hide.
"Like I figured; no stopping it now." Said the mysterious, unnamed woman who did not look at all like a paramedic. "At least you won't be alone for your first time." But the way his penis quivered inside Heather, the way her man's lips tugged mercilessly upon her nipples made it impossible for her to address this statement with more than a furtive gurgle.
But soon, the sensations became undeniable. She sat up, as the painful piercing in her shoulder-blades grew sharper -- more insistent. She clutched her mate with a lusting grunt as their nude bodies melded amidst sweat-stained pulsations of wanton yearning. But still, something was wrong -- different. It seemed like something sharp was... extruding from her lower back, like... axes were cutting her shoulder blades -- from the inside? As much as it should have hurt, the pain gave her an exhilaration she had not known possible. As if a relief far greater than any she had known would be hers once the -- change? Process? Was complete.
Greedily, she clung to the man-boy whose sex she feasted upon. Something unnatural was happening to her -- but the deep, sexual intelligence burning in her brain told her that this didn't give her prey the right to run off in terror. That was the price he had to pay to fuck her so hard, so deeply.
"No... escape... only.... Fucking..." Heather snarled, as the changes accelerated. Manprey seemed not to notice, delirious yet again from a soul-shattering orgasm that jerked him in her grip like an ejaculating rag-doll. They clutched each other upright, as long-time lovers might. But he was just a cock to her -- a cock for her cunt.
"No... ESCAPE!!!" and the two of them vanished in a blistering roar of seething flames! Leaving only charred bedding and dark streaks on the walls of the ambulance interior.
**********
Norm Craven could spot them coming from a mile away. At least, he hoped he could. He sat upon an uncomfortable bar-stool, wreathed in cigarette smoke, quietly nursing a Tequila from a smudged tumbler. He drank enough to not appear suspicious by a failure to imbibe what he'd ordered, yet he did not intend to finish his intoxicating beverage. It was a delicate game.
The Reverse Pick-up.
