Vampire "Untitled" (Vampire "Untitled" Trilogy Book 1) by Lee McGeorge Page B
Authors: Lee McGeorge
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inflatable penis sleeve. The storyline saw an evil man fucking a bound
woman into submission. Wow, what a story. But who was that girl? The one with
big glasses who was always reading. Nicola! That was her name... “I remember
you, Nicola,” he said aloud. “You had some dirty books, girl.” They’d all
laughed and giggled as this schoolgirl had read the filthiest passages from her
library... What was that book? I’d love to read it now. God, I’d love to do
that to Ildico. I’d love to hold her down and play with her pussy and...
Where the hell did that thought come from?
It was completely out of the blue...
He pictured Ildico in his mind. She was kneeling, her
wrists were bound above her head from a rope hung from the ceiling. The image
lasted only a second but in that time he ripped her blouse open like a maniac
to expose her breasts.
Simultaneously, Paul felt a sting of embarrassment and
a swelling in his pants. The thought persisted. He wasn’t in the usual habit of
fantasising about girls he knew; somehow that had always felt off limits,
something to be ashamed of. Better to stick with fantasising about porn stars,
or movie stars, women beyond reach.
But the thought wasn’t going away. He really did want
to touch Ildico. He wanted to tweak her nipples and make her cry. What the
hell? He’d never hurt any woman or wanted to. Not ever. Why on earth should he
think that?
In his mind’s eye he saw her crotch in the thinnest,
most transparent panties and saw his own fingers slipping under the waistband.
“Stop this,” he said to himself.
But it wasn’t stopping.
He saw his fingers move deeper, following the contours
of her pubis, imagining her bald and shaved, sensing the warmth and moisture.
He saw her face, wet lips parting, eyes closed, head tilting back as he slipped
a finger inside, feeling her hot wet cunt.
Paul coughed roughly, forcibly, and stood up to make
coffee. In the space of a few seconds his cock was hard and squashed in his
pants. He filled a small pan with water and set it on the gas stove. The image
came back briefly to which he hit his fist against his breastbone. “Stop, Paul.
Stop that... Just stop.”
His lips were pressed tightly and his face wore a
serious expression. Something about that little fantasy had felt so very, very
wrong. As though he’d just caught himself fantasising about having sex with a
ten year old girl. Perhaps that was the reason why it felt wrong. Ildico was
lovely and sweet, but despite being nineteen years old she had the gawky
innocence of a child.
He had a theory that the longer one goes without any
form of sexual outlet, the weirder and more extreme one’s fantasies and
ideation become. Hence the reason you should never trust priests or listen to
the clergy’s opinion on sexual morality.
Perhaps that was his problem. Too long without sex.
Too long without quality, meaningful sex. His last encounter had been haunting
him for months; a drunken unsatisfying mess at a Halloween house-party.
Nisha.
She just wouldn’t stop haunting him.
Nisha was dark skinned, dusky, with a touch of Indian
blood and the sex appeal of a Bollywood hottie. He’d admired her for months
before he found the courage to talk to her. It was Halloween and he finally
approached her on the staircase as people pushed past in a queue for the
toilet. She was dressed as one of the chopped up little girls from The Shining.
He was dressed in a simple Hockey Mask with a plastic machete. She was
completely drunk and feeling horny. He’d barely said hello before she’d wrapped
her arms around him, pulled off his mask and sloppy kissed him in public. God,
he could remember it all, the coldness of her mouth as she kissed him after
sipping a chilled drink, the taste of strong spirits on her tongue, the
strawberry scent from her brown hair. He’d wanted to talk to her for such a
long time, to pluck up the courage and make the first advances toward a relationship.
She had other ideas,
woman into submission. Wow, what a story. But who was that girl? The one with
big glasses who was always reading. Nicola! That was her name... “I remember
you, Nicola,” he said aloud. “You had some dirty books, girl.” They’d all
laughed and giggled as this schoolgirl had read the filthiest passages from her
library... What was that book? I’d love to read it now. God, I’d love to do
that to Ildico. I’d love to hold her down and play with her pussy and...
Where the hell did that thought come from?
It was completely out of the blue...
He pictured Ildico in his mind. She was kneeling, her
wrists were bound above her head from a rope hung from the ceiling. The image
lasted only a second but in that time he ripped her blouse open like a maniac
to expose her breasts.
Simultaneously, Paul felt a sting of embarrassment and
a swelling in his pants. The thought persisted. He wasn’t in the usual habit of
fantasising about girls he knew; somehow that had always felt off limits,
something to be ashamed of. Better to stick with fantasising about porn stars,
or movie stars, women beyond reach.
But the thought wasn’t going away. He really did want
to touch Ildico. He wanted to tweak her nipples and make her cry. What the
hell? He’d never hurt any woman or wanted to. Not ever. Why on earth should he
think that?
In his mind’s eye he saw her crotch in the thinnest,
most transparent panties and saw his own fingers slipping under the waistband.
“Stop this,” he said to himself.
But it wasn’t stopping.
He saw his fingers move deeper, following the contours
of her pubis, imagining her bald and shaved, sensing the warmth and moisture.
He saw her face, wet lips parting, eyes closed, head tilting back as he slipped
a finger inside, feeling her hot wet cunt.
Paul coughed roughly, forcibly, and stood up to make
coffee. In the space of a few seconds his cock was hard and squashed in his
pants. He filled a small pan with water and set it on the gas stove. The image
came back briefly to which he hit his fist against his breastbone. “Stop, Paul.
Stop that... Just stop.”
His lips were pressed tightly and his face wore a
serious expression. Something about that little fantasy had felt so very, very
wrong. As though he’d just caught himself fantasising about having sex with a
ten year old girl. Perhaps that was the reason why it felt wrong. Ildico was
lovely and sweet, but despite being nineteen years old she had the gawky
innocence of a child.
He had a theory that the longer one goes without any
form of sexual outlet, the weirder and more extreme one’s fantasies and
ideation become. Hence the reason you should never trust priests or listen to
the clergy’s opinion on sexual morality.
Perhaps that was his problem. Too long without sex.
Too long without quality, meaningful sex. His last encounter had been haunting
him for months; a drunken unsatisfying mess at a Halloween house-party.
Nisha.
She just wouldn’t stop haunting him.
Nisha was dark skinned, dusky, with a touch of Indian
blood and the sex appeal of a Bollywood hottie. He’d admired her for months
before he found the courage to talk to her. It was Halloween and he finally
approached her on the staircase as people pushed past in a queue for the
toilet. She was dressed as one of the chopped up little girls from The Shining.
He was dressed in a simple Hockey Mask with a plastic machete. She was
completely drunk and feeling horny. He’d barely said hello before she’d wrapped
her arms around him, pulled off his mask and sloppy kissed him in public. God,
he could remember it all, the coldness of her mouth as she kissed him after
sipping a chilled drink, the taste of strong spirits on her tongue, the
strawberry scent from her brown hair. He’d wanted to talk to her for such a
long time, to pluck up the courage and make the first advances toward a relationship.
She had other ideas,
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