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Date Night with the Grim Reaper

I slid my hands up His thighs and tried to find His junk in the shadows of His robe. It was time to DTG. Define The Genitals. Would it be a cock or a pussy or something entirely different? Would it be at all human-like? Would there be more than one? Would it taste good? His robes didn’t seem to have edges that I could part open to see what He was rocking, but I could reach through them when they gave like mist around my fingers to touch what was underneath them.

It was a cock. A really, really big cock.

Staring up into His hooded face, I tried to get a grip on the dimensions of it. It flowed through my hands, giving and solidifying. I couldn’t get fingers all the way around it, it was so thick, and I felt myself starting to slick my panties in anticipation. The more I touched, running my hand up and up, the more He seemed to slide out of my grip, like I could never find the tip. It reminded me of those wiggly tube toys I had as a kid, and I bit my lip so He wouldn’t think I was laughing at him. My boyfriend had the perfect fidget toy in His incorporeal pants.

That reminded me.

“By the way,” I said, putting my other hand on His cock as well to help hold it in place and increase how much pleasure I could give Him. “I know it’s only been a couple of months, but I’d really like to make this official. I like labels.”

I licked my lips at the way He felt in my hands, so soft and slippery and tingly. It felt like little whisps of dry ice smoke were twining between my fingers the more I touched Him. The flowing darkness of His robes had encompassed my body kneeling between His knees, and I felt the same lapping ocean tide gliding between my thighs. I didn’t think it was intentional, because it always did that, but it sure felt nice and teasing against my damp panties.

“Can we be boyfriend-girlfriend?” I asked, shuffling forward so my chest was pressed to His thighs. To make it easier on my arms to jerk Him off, obviously. Not because it let me rub my tight nipples against Him for relief.

He didn’t respond, and I wondered if I was moving too fast.

“It’s just that,” I shifted forward a little more, dragging my nipples over His cool, wispy robes, “My therapist told me it was really important to be respected before I went all the way with someone. That since I used to use sex for validation, I should wait until I’m in a committed relationship to do stuff like this again.”

The way His cock gave and solidified in my grip almost felt like a pulse. Like He was so hard for me He was throbbing.

“I know you don’t want to take advantage of me,” I whispered, feeling saliva fill my mouth in anticipation. “So if you’re not ready to be my boyfriend, just say so and I’ll stop.”

He didn’t say anything. And He didn’t try to stop me.

Love filled me up so much it felt like I had to be glowing with it. My first real grown-up boyfriend! If I was still in therapy, Dr. C would be so proud of me!

I tried to maintain what I assumed was eye contact with the dark pit under His hood as I leaned forward to finally put His lovely, throbbing cock in my mouth. It tasted like water tasted–a sort of not-flavor that was still a flavor, so natural and essential to my being that I immediately recognized it even without ever having it on my tongue before. “I love you,” I mumbled as I slid more of Him into my mouth. The give and take of His matter made it easy to get past my lips that couldn’t quite open wide enough for Him, allowed Him to fill my mouth, caress my tongue, tease the back of my throat without inciting my gag reflex. It was probably too soon to say the L-word, but hopefully He didn’t hear it. Though He had to know, right? We were cosmically connected, I’d known it the moment I died, and I knew it now with how right it felt to suck His cock.

I used my hands on the parts I couldn’t fit down my throat, twisting and tugging on His sort-of-rigid, sort-of-smoky length while I bobbed my head. I was going to be the best head He’d ever gotten or I was going to die choking on Him and be able to spend eternity with Him. Drool slid out around my lips and I loved the way it felt on my palms mixing with His strange darkness. I pushed myself to the base of His cock and my face disappeared completely into His robes. Light and color twined in the darkness of Him, like pressing hard on my closed eyelids after staring directly at a bright light. They formed some sort of strange catacomb in my vision, pulling me deeper and deeper in. I felt hands reaching for me, heard the voices of my dead calling for me, beckoning me to them.

I inhaled to speak to them, to tell them I was happy and in love and I would see them in just a few years, and sputtered out of my strange vision. I choked on the cock that I swallowed far past the point I should have, and pulling it out reminded me of when I’d woken up with a breathing tube down my throat. I coughed and stared up at my beloved new boyfriend as tears trailed down my cheeks…

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happy werewolf transgenderism wednesday

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Date Night with a Zombie

Something sliced painlessly into my head again, almost like a kiss but somehow too deep. It was close enough to my forehead this time that I waited for blood to run into my eyes, but none came. I thought there was a lot of blood in the scalp?

Your scalp isn’t there…

I saw it then, beside me on the bed. My own hair, that I’d so carefully arranged for our date. Just sitting there on a towel on the bed. Not a wig because they didn’t make wigs with strange skinnish, reddish helmets under them. My head? Was that my head?

I kicked my leg and tried to scream but what came out of me was a nearly pornagraphic moan of ecstasy. Ecstasy? My skull was on the bed why would I be-

Sensation flooded an area that shouldn’t be capable of sensation. My brain. Oh, god, my brain. He was eating my-

“Love you,” he groaned. His teeth bit into me and I could hear myself being chewed as he mumbled, “So fuckin’ perfect. Love you so much.”

I felt his panting breaths against me. Inside me. His tongue swiped up the inside of my prefrontal cortex and my pussy clenched and released to the rhythm of his jaw chewing another piece of my brain. I was so fucking close.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it,” he encouraged me. “Don’t fight it. It feels good, doesn’t it?”

I kicked out my feet again, but this time in a weak-limbed attempt to thrust myself back against his lips. “Please,” I mewled, “please. Again. I need–please!”

His chuckle was vividly inhuman and unbearably erotic.

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Survey Results are In!

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** The doc is NSFW and meant for 18+ readers **

Thanks to everyone who filled out the survey. The results are in and they are so fascinating, and I'm stoked to share them with you!

Those who asked to be tagged in the results are under the cut!

@writingpotato07 @notwritinganyflufftoday @contra-diction816 @concerningwolves @cryingwriter @antique-symbolism @princessneleam @dreamsdescent @radiowrites @wildjuniperjones @aestatismors @morbidjazz @acavatica @celestialily @thefollow-spot @unseeliefaerie

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NON-freaks dni. This is a freaks only zone

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I love you DVDs, I love you VHS Tapes, I love you Cassettes, I love you Records, I love you CDs, I love you Books, I love you Journals

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missionary so I can see the hate in her eyes for capitalism

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parents are like “she turned out perfectly normal”

your daughter begs someone who isn’t there for permission to finish when she touches herself

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Date Night with a Witch

I loved eating pussy, loved giving women pleasure. It was like an erotic fugue, like disappearing into a book where you cease to be yourself and are barely even aware of the words on the page before you. By the time she tapped out with a huffed laugh, though, I was soaked and aching for my own release. That strange zapping feeling had been spreading through me in waves the longer I licked her, making me press my legs together to try to stem the tide of arousal.

I’d gone so deep into the sensual haze of giving pleasure that not only was my vision still foggy around her, complete with little sparks and stars, but it almost looked like her eyes were glowing. A strange, dark light sucked me in as she sat up, pulling me up into a kneeling crouch to accept her hungry, electric kiss. Even this close, with the details of her lavender skin and purple eyelashes blurring together, her impossibly dark eyes seemed to be glowing. Or maybe they were black holes, consuming all light. The longer she kissed me, the longer she looked into my eyes, the more I felt like I was falling through space. Like pressing against my closed eyelids until the darkness seemed alight with patterns trying inexorably to pull me into the black.

A gentle fist full of my hair pulled me back. I shut my eyes against the undeniable glow of her, trying to block out all the questions piling up in the back of my head about her skin and her eyes and the stars twinkling around her. “My turn,” she cooed as she guided me back down to the bed, on my back this time. I kept my eyes shut as she peeled off my bralette and my panties, basking in her husky praise like Pearl in a patch of sunlight. “So beautiful…” Gentle hands drifted down my chest, over the curve of my hips, my belly. “So soft. You took my breath away the minute I walked in the door.”

A delicate, wet tongue traced around my nipple before I had a chance to respond, pulling a surprised moan from me. Her wandering hand cupped my pussy as she sucked, making her hum in that pleased way.

“So wet from getting me off,” she praised against my skin. Her fingers dipped between my soaked labia, petting my clit gently. She kissed across my chest and suckled on my other nipple. “Tell me how to make you feel as good as you made me feel.”

I opened my eyes, but the woman hovering over me, plucking my damp nipple with one hand while she sucked on the other, was so unearthly beautiful and undeniably inhuman that I had to shut them again. If I didn’t look at it, it wasn’t real. She was just the strange beauty that came with my roommate’s friend with the throaty deep voice and secretive smiles. I was probably hallucinating anyway. Maybe there’d been more in that weed brownie I’d had earlier than just weed. I didn’t want to deal with it.

So I kept my eyes closed and spread my legs, gasping, “Circles, please.”

She obeyed my request, spinning tight circles around my clit with her finger tips. Fuck, it felt so good. I was so close already, wound up by eating her pretty pussy and that strange electric zapping that happened when we touched. I gripped fistfulls of my comforter and tried not to squirm too much in case I disrupted the rhythmic pulls of her mouth on my nipple.

“Harder, faster,” I begged. “Oh, fuck, that’s good.”

Her fingers on my clit whirled faster and pressed harder. The fingers wrapped around my nipple tugged a little more insistently and the lips sealed to the other nipple sucked so hard, just bordering on painful, that I came with a shout. I would totally have to apologize to my roommates later. But I was riding an earth shaking orgasm, my eyes popped open and staring unseeing at the ceiling as pleasure radiated through my entire body in a constant, electric vibration. She knew just how to follow me, just how to slowly ease off my clit so that my orgasm went from an overflowing boil down to a gentle simmer that left me liquid and shivering under her hands.

“So good,” she murmured, rolling over my pliant body onto my belly. “So beautiful. You’re so full of power.”

I wanted to ask what that meant, but her fingers were inside me, stroking over my g-spot. I moaned into the bedspread and once again let the questions crowding my brain fade to the background. It felt like that electricity we’d shared was beginning to gather in certain key areas of my body. My lips, my fingertips, my belly, suddenly buzzed and fizzed. It wrapped around my tongue and it felt like something stroking into my mouth. It slithered out from my lower stomach to wrap around my thighs. It compelled me to draw my knees up to my sides, to open me further to her ministrations, like a deep child’s pose in yoga. The position wasn’t even uncomfortable because I felt magnetized in place. I found some part of her with my tingling fingers, her thigh as she kneeled beside me I thought, and I held on to it to anchor me in the pleasure washing over me.

“That’s it, just give in to it,” she praised, her fingers sliding in and out of my cunt while her tongue striped strange patterns up my spine. “You’ll feel so good, I promise.”

Fingers slid through my hair, pulling it out of her way, and she sucked on the spot on my neck that always made me go weak. My hips kicked at the feeling and I knew I was getting even wetter. Her fingers churned inside of me, filling me so perfectly full. The electricity was everywhere, in every bone and blood vessel. I felt her playing with it like those old string games like cat’s cradle we played as children, tangling the sparks around her fingers inside me. Each tug and twist and knot wove pleasure together in new and unfathomable ways.

“Play with your clit,” she ordered, and the electricity or magnets or whatever was inside me was pulling my free hand that had been gripping my bedspread for dear life under my body.

The addition of external clitoral stimulation to her insistent thrusts against my g-spot and the strange knots and strings of bone-melting pleasure all over my body was too much. This orgasm was sharp and stingy where the other had been an earthquake. I felt my muscles clamping down on her fingers and I knew I was headed for overstimulation but I couldn’t seem to stop my fingers from whirling around my clit in the same circles I’d taught her. I was making high pitched noises I’d only ever made for my vibrator and it was just so fucking good. So good.

“Yes,” she laughed and I knew it was for me, for the joy of my pleasure. “That’s it. Keep going.”

My mouth was open on something like a scream, but all that came out of me was a high pitched squeak and a lot of drool as I obeyed. I pushed and pushed, circling my clit around and around until it was too much. With something between a groan and a yelp, I lurched forward, off her fingers, half off the bed. Convulsions continued through my body as I rode out the last of the pleasure. I was frozen by it, my head and one shoulder hanging off the bed, my thighs still seemingly magnetized open for her.

As my vision cleared and my breathing settled, I realized what I saw below me didn’t make sense. It was still my landlord beige carpet, still my white girly bedside table. But it was also the top of my girly bedside table. And the lamp sitting on top of it. Too high. How were we so high? The white curtains of the canopy were fluttering like I’d opened all my windows on a windy day. I looked at the legs of the bed, trying to understand what I was seeing.

“Is my bed floating?"

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Date Night With A Mothman

I tipped my head back and licked up the last drops. When I finished, Mothman was watching me closely, antennae fluttering curiously. I hummed the song to myself again as the sticky sweet taste coated my tongue once last time, “My pussy tastes like cherry cola…”

Mothman’s red eyes shone a light on my legs, then on the empty can in my hand, then back between my legs. He wasn’t moving all that quickly but my brain was starting to go so slow that I seemed to blink and he had leaned forward and buried his face between my thighs. Something long and thinner than a human tongue touched the white damp gusset of my panties. I was too relaxed from weed and stargazing to really do anything. I just stared down at him between my legs, trying to figure out what was going on and how I was supposed to react. Did that even just happen?

Mothman lifted his strangely shaped head and looked at the Coke can again while his antennae fluttered around his mouth, seeming to gather the taste of me on his face. Why would he do that? What was-

“Oh my god, can you understand me?” I asked with a slight slur.

He assessed the can, picking up a stray drop on the rim with a froglike flick of his very very long tongue, and then leaned back over to investigate between my legs. This time, I felt the brush of one velvety-furred finger peel my panties away and his tongue make contact with my pussy. I gasped at the still unexpected intrusion and the very inhuman texture between my legs. It almost felt more like a silicone toy, only way more flexible.

“My pussy doesn’t actually taste like Coke, sorry.”

He maybe wasn’t listening or maybe I was mumbling too much for him to understand. His tongue investigated me all over, first on the outside, playing with my clit curiously when I moaned, then dipping inside to see how deep it could get. Very, very deep, as it turned out.

“But you could keep doing that if, ummm, if you want to.”

He apparently did want to.

The familiar dizzy, sticky pleasure of being touched while obliteratingly high curled out from my clit and blanketed my body, the effect so much stronger when it wasn’t my own hand. I was heavy, so heavy, my legs falling open to make all the room for him he needed. I held onto the blanket for balance as I tried to lift my head to make sure this was really happening. And sure enough, it was. There was really a something between my legs. A something with tickly antennae and long elegant wings that very politely kept my feet warm.

I was being taken advantage of by Mothman. And he was fucking good at it.

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I think about this daily

“Good With His Hands” by Verity Arden

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Date Night with a Vampire

Vampires needed permission to enter, and Dracula was doing his very best to earn an invitation. The Big Bad himself, the vampire of all vampires, was on his knees on my welcome mat proving that real fangs did not leave people tongue-tied the way fake Halloween ones did. The heavy silver ring on my finger (just in case) was biting into my lip where I had my hand clamped over my mouth to muffle any of my moans from disturbing the neighbors. I was very aware that despite how late it was, anyone on my floor could turn the corner at any moment and see me pressed up against my door with my leg hooked over Dracula’s shoulder, but it wasn’t enough to make me stop him. It wasn’t every day you got a guy with centuries of experience between your legs—I wasn’t about to waste this opportunity.

Long pale fingers slid over the front of my red dress, up my belly to rest on my chest, just slightly to the left. The other hand gripping my thigh dug in hard enough to leave a bruise as he groaned into my pussy. Oh. My heartbeat. I would’ve said something, would’ve made sure this was the only part of me he wanted to eat since I definitely wasn’t a blood-donation-on-a-first-date kind of girl, but there was something slick and unfamiliar coating his tongue that stole all of my common sense. Dracula had explained it over (my) dinner, how vampires stayed a secret, how they healed the puncture wounds of their fangs with a special protein-rich venom on their tongues. How it made the feeding process not completely horrifying and uncomfortable. A gentle, temporary high, he’d said.

It did not feel gentle on my clit.

As he toyed with it, rolling it around with the tip of his coated tongue, lapping at the hyper-sensitive underside, I fought off a fourth orgasm in a shockingly short amount of time. I was going to die. He was trying to kill me. The only reason I was even upright was because of his pale hands and his inhumanly strong shoulders holding me up. His tongue was slippery like good lube, soft like new silicone, fizzy like soda, and I was going to die. Was this how undeath happened? Pleasure that transcended mortality? I didn’t want to live forever but god, did I want to feel this way for eternity.

Dracula hummed, his spread fingers flexing over my heart, and I could tell I was in for it. I gripped the back of that hand for some kind of support and tried to breathe, tried to stay calm, tried not to lose–

The fangs that had been clamped on either side of my clit pulled back, allowing all the blood he’d been summoning with his mouth to rush in. It was so acute, so perfectly on the edge of pain and pleasure as if he’d found a way to mimic the line he straddled between life and death, that I came harder than I ever had in my life. The orgasm was like a punch to the gut, driving all the air out of me with one barely-muffled shriek. My hips writhed and shook, the orgasm drawn out by the gentle, dizzy strokes of his tongue. My legs gave out and this time he let me slide down the door and collapse into his lap. 

Dracula chuckled as I shook in his arms, still coming without any stimulation. My muscles cramped and tears slid down my face, dripping onto my fingers still covering my mouth. Cool fingers plucked them away as an equally cool forehead pressed to mine. The less-than-human temp had turned me off at first when he’d taken my hand on the walk back to my apartment, but now it was relief against my fevered skin. Orgasming four times in a leather trench coat and matching thigh-high boots was like getting fucked in a boiler room. I struggled out of my coat with clumsy hands and wrapped my noodly body around him to cool me off. 

His kiss was strange with the fangs but not unpleasant. When he slipped his tongue between my lips, I sucked on it in gratitude for the pleasure it’d just given me until he groaned against my mouth. The slightly unearthly sound of it shivered through my body, probably some sort of survival instinct that I was too stupid to listen to. I wanted to hear more. I wanted his pleasure. I wanted to drive such a powerful creature to the brink. 

“Inside,” I gasped against his mouth, unsure if I meant my apartment or my body. “I want you inside.”

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horror and erotica are the same thing. flesh and meat and intensity. do you get it.