Dark Desires: Dark Erotic Tales (14 page)

Despite the hand cuffs, Matteo reaches up and take her face in his hands and he kisses her gently. Her lips soften beneath his warm breath and he works his tongue inside her mouth, massaging and exploring. She sighs against his loving, owning kiss. He moves to position
himself between her legs and kiss her more deeply, pulling her into his strong arms and wrapping them protectively around her. Even as he kisses her, her tears begin to fall.

"Oh baby, please," he says kissing away her tears. "Please don't cry. If we make it through this, whatever this is, I swear to you Morreen. I will make this up to you…
If you'll let me."

Morreen whimpers and kisses him again, that old passion between them igniting. "Make it up to me now," she says in a low sultry voice that is unlike her.

Matteo pauses and regards his wife, feeling strange for smiling considering the situation they're in. She doesn't have to tell him twice.

Matteo leaps up to his feet, forgetting all about the residual headache still roosting in the base of his skull. He reaches down to pull Morreen up as well, spinning her to face the wall. With his handcuffed hands, he pulls her handcuffed hands up over her head and puts them against the wall. She sighs wistfully.

Fear only serves to sweeten his sexual anticipation. He feels creative and the restraints become an excitement rather than a hindrance. He slides the long skirt she's wearing down her legs slowly, dropping down to his knees as the skirt makes its descent. He deftly touches one of her thighs between her legs and pushes it so that she spreads her legs for him. She writhes against the dirty wall, as though anticipating something she's waited a long time for. In this moment, considering her luscious, perfectly proportioned curves in the gloomy darkness, he wonders why he ever had eyes for any woman other than this one.

Matteo feels his own uncontrollable desire building as he gently touches his wife between her legs. She moves headily against his hands but he moves his hands to cup her ass, hold her still. She keeps still but begins to tremble. He moves his hands again between her legs, gently caressing the lips of her hot desire and exalting at the wetness he feels there. He moves one finger inside her folds to find the small hard bud that connects him to her every orgasm. He softly swirls his finger on it and she writhes again with a
n impatient desirous moan.

He moves his finger again and slips it inside her. He slowly swirls his finger up, deeper with each second until he's feeling the depth of her wet need.

"Oh, Matteo…." She hisses.

He continues to swirl that finger and begins moving his thumb into another fold. Slowly, he explores with his thumb, the dark crevice of her ass cheeks and she begins rocking against the wall. He makes the journey slower, and slower, her delicious anticipation mounting, whimpers escaping her lips in soft frenzied bursts. Finally, he slips his thumb ever so gently into her most
secret area of desire and he begins to move both thumb and fingers in and out of two of her most erotic places. She moves her body against his skillful hand. The tingling begins in her thighs and spreads upwards. The breath is trapped in her lungs as she nears her temporary ending. The sensation of the verge of complete loss of control is overwhelming for Morreen as her husband fondles her simultaneously in both her snatch and her ass.

Morreen throws her head back and screams brazenly as her orgasm overpowers her and overrides anything that makes sense in her mind.

Matteo steadies her so that she doesn't collapse as he stands up. He pins her with his body then uses his bound hands to unfasten his own jeans and expose his throbbing dick. Barely able to control himself but knowing he must, he drops once more to his knees. This time, he spreads her cheeks wide and she squeals. Delicately, Matteo licks his wife's asshole and rubs her clit. Morreen writhes violently against his moving tongue crying out wantonly. Neither of them cares at this point who may hear or what may happen. When he's made her moist and pliant he stands again.

"Trust me," Matteo whispers hotly against her ear. "I won't hurt you."

He moves the head of his prick against her asshole and she groans. "Yes, baby. Yes. I'm not afraid," Morreen begs.

So he pushes it in.

Slowly, gently, Matteo slides himself into her ass. For a moment she is still as she considers this new sensation and she accepts him. Once he makes his way inside her until his long cock has fully disappeared, he begins thrusting. Slowly at first, and then faster. He moves her away from the wall and bends her completely over as though she were doing toe touches so that she can fully offer him her ass. He throws his head back with reckless abandon as her tight ass takes his hard cock and he rocks into her for what seems like a heavenly eternity until finally he comes deep inside her.

Matteo and Morreen no longer care about their predicament. All they know is each other. She is like he's never known her to be. After he has his way with her ass, she takes control.  She sucks him, she rides him, she uses his cock as a toy to manipulate her own clit and make him drink her juices.  All of this transpires in the dirt and the grime of the hard, cold floor. Their bodies both become filthy and abraded with sexual injuries and neither of them cares. Perhaps this is how people fuck when they believe they will soon die. The couple fucks for hours.
Several times during the oblivion, Matteo manages to grasp the one thought of wondering why no one has come to see them; to tell them what's going on or what's expected of them. But again, he does not care.

Finally, Matteo is spent. He has nothing left to give for the time and he lays on the floor naked from the waist down. He expects Morreen to lie down with him and cuddle up against his chest but instead she stands and walks off into the shadows.

She returns with a knife. Matteo's eyes open just a second too late and Morreen plunges the knife into his chest.

Matteo screams. Morreen rips the knife out of her husband's chest. Blood is gurgling from the brutal opening she's made in him and pooling onto the floor. She raises the knife again, even as Matteo attempts to turn over, to scramble away from her.

"MORREEN WAIT! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" Matteo screams, falling back against the floor as she drops on top of him, straddling him. Her sex is still sticky wet from their loving and he feels it hot against his stomach. Unbelievably, despite the agony, his cock hardens again and she feels it touch her back. She giggles as he husband weakens. Her hands are now free, as she must have unlocked them in the shadows. The knife wielding hand falls, but still clutches the knife like it is her darling baby.

"You want to go again?" Morreen preens gleefully.

It's Matteo's turn to writhe, and tears are falling as he tries to squirm away again, but she lowers herself once more over his long shaft.

"You are such a stud!" Morreen declares. "A hard cock with a gaping chest wound baby, that's fucking HOT! And you're over forty and everything! You should be proud of yourself!" Morreen gives him an at a boy pat directly on his wound.

Matteo sobs and chokes as blood begins spewing up his throat. Morreen begins to move in her magical rhythm, riding his throbbing cock. This certainly hadn't been part of her plan, but she is going with it.

"Morreen,
whhhhyy?" Matteo cries, wishing his erection would subside. Wishing he could keep his own hips from matching her rhythm. "Why are you doing this?"

"Well, Matteo, here's the thing," Morreen says. She traces the blade of the knife down Matteo's face, opening a small line of blood. "Let me be quick about it because I think you'll bleed out pretty soon," she continues as she grinds her hot pussy on his cock. "The thing is
basically this. I do love you, but I do not forgive you. I lied a tad about planning to divorce you. My actual plan was to kill you!"

Matteo sobs pathetically as Morreen moves herself harder and harder against her husband and she feels his erection growing. "But, the thing of it is, you're a creative guy, and something you said earlier gave me an excellent idea!"

Knowing this man who'd been her lover for twenty years, Morreen can feel when he is on the verge of orgasm. She jerks herself off of him and brutally grabs his cock with her left hand. Before he has even a second to protest, to beg, or to pray, she slices his cock and balls off just as he comes.

He screams.

She comes.

In
under three minutes he's dead.

***

"What kind is that?"

The voice snaps Morreen out of her reverie. She sits in the park next to a stranger on a bench. "I beg your pardon? What kind is what?" Morreen replies.

The kindly old gentleman smiles. "What kind of bird feed is that? I've not seen anything like it. It looks like some kind of
ground meat."

Morreen's
eyes drop to the stuff in her hand. She takes another pinch and throws it to the birds who scramble to accept it. Morreen shrugs.

"I don't really recall. Got it from the pet shop," she says noncommittally

THE END

"I brought
you a present," Delilah bubbled as soon as I opened the front door. Delilah's tan, freckled face beamed. One of her arms struggled to manage a bouquet of tiger lilies and a gigantic box of chocolate. The other arm reached down to grasp her son, Dakota's hand. I grinned at the pair as my daughter; Emily bound up behind me to enthusiastically greet Dakota.

"I want the chocolate!" sweet Dakota declared. Both Delilah and I, and both six year olds giggled delightedly.

"Oh my gosh, that is too funny," I commented as I ushered our friends in the door and took Delilah's offering.

"What's funny?" Delilah asked as she helped Dakota take off his shoes and settle in.

"Come here and see what I got you," I said, still giggling. Dakota and Emily scampered away, hand in hand, and I led my friend through the living room and into the kitchen. On the counter was an identical gigantic box of chocolate next to a lovely bouquet of lilacs that I'd purchased just the day before. Delilah and I burst into laughter.

"Well, either we're not very creative," Delilah said.

"Or, we just know each other REALLY well!" I said, finishing my friend's sentence.

I opened the fridge to produce a pitcher of sun tea and poured us two tall glasses. "It's a gorgeous day," Delilah said.

"Yeah, I know, right? You wanna take the kids outside and bake in the sun?"

"Sure!" Delilah agreed happily.

We gathered our offspring and set off out the back door to enjoy the sunshine. Dakota and Emily hit the ground running straight for the swing set and trampoline. Delilah and I grabbed lounging chairs and dragged them toward the garden. We both enjoyed sitting next to the myriad of colorful flowers and fragrant herbs. Often, as we'd sit and chat, Delilah would pluck a strawberry straight from its plant and pop it in her mouth. I was one to wash produce first, but Delilah was like nature at its purest. As always, I watched Delilah out of the corner of my eye as we settled into our seats and felt lovingly jealous of her impossibly long, perfectly smooth, deeply tan legs and her superb slender feet. In addition to those gorgeous assets, Delilah had masses of blonde hair spilling down to her waist, framing a long face with delicate features and startling blue eyes. Despite having given birth and being into her mid-thirties, Delilah still had perfect breasts and rock hard abs. She was the poster child for lofty expectations and impossible dreams.

In direct contrast, I remained pale year round, never daring to venture into the sun without a quarter inch of sunscreen applied. My long hair was dark brown and ram rod straight. I was a good six inches shorter than my best friend, and though my own curves would probably be considered quite attractive in most schools of thinking, I felt like a dandelion next to a rose most of the time with Delilah. I'd worn glasses since I was ten, and the only way I could come close to Delilah's natural exotic look was with a LOT of makeup. But, any wishes to look more like my friend were in loving admiration, never genuine jealousy. Delilah had been my VBF (very best friend) since we'd both been in diapers and I would never wish anything but the best for her.

It was Saturday, late afternoon. The day before Mother's Day. Delilah and I had a Mother's Day tradition which we celebrated religiously. Neither of our children had fathers to shower us with attention for the day. So, each year, Delilah, the children, and I had a slumber party the night before Mother's Day. After the kids went to bed, Delilah and I watched sappy movies and pigged out on ice cream and Margarita. Then the four of us spent each Mother's Day together, making crafts, cooking delicious foods and enjoying one another.