Marious

She, or it, he didn't even know anymore, blood pounding, a loud ringing in his ears, his breath deep, rhythmic, excited, Paul hit the ground pausing only for a moment before slipping off quietly down the dark ally full of the odors of the darker parts of a city. A flickering street light greeted him in front of his three story walk up, tucking his hands into his pockets as if to shake off some foreign chill, he mounted the stairs, stopping only briefly to try to remember, but instead was met with only darkness, shadows, flickering movements and undefined forms. A chill ran down his spine, stopping just between his legs, a pinch, strangely erotic, carnal. "Fuck", his voice an airy tired breath, despite the energy he felt circulating in his body. Laying now on the couch, old and worn, but familiar and safe, light streaming on to his expressionless face through a crack in the white sheet pinned up haphazardly to cover the window, his mind drifting back, thirty minutes, one hour, he wasn't sure, all that he knew was that it would all come back to him, like the last time, every detail, every sensation, every word, like a torrent of pleasure, to be relived again as if in the flesh. He braced himself, searching his mind, searching his sensations, his emotions, letting himself be pulled into what he had now labeled The Abyss. There it was, like fingers, tendrils, slowly twisting around his calves. A soft moan escaped his now trembling lips as his hips began a circular motion, grinding against nothing, seeking, thirsty for what was to come. His hands gripped the cushions, teeth clenched, a hissing sound filled the room as he draw in a long slow breath between his teeth. The tendrils, like hands now, sliding around his testicles, bathing them in a warm, liquid like embrace. He was powerless, a prisoner to her, to it, to the voice now whispering in his ear. Ethereal tongues and lips playfully teasing at his neck as his back arched, a spasm, an electric shock that held his spine in place as the tentacles wrapped their fleshy beings around his cock. "Fuck, yes", a whisper was all that he could manage. Engulfed now in pleasure, writhing, twisting, moaning, wet, warm, lips, skin, sweat, he knew what she, what it wanted, what it needed, since their very first encounter in the warehouse down the road, ancient, powerful, needy, it was, and despite his mind telling him to stay away, every night he would visit again, escaping with his life, only to be taken again when he got home. His cock became its staff, its rod, its wand, its many invisible hands, mouths, and warm, wet folds of skin, milking, caressing, teasing at his mind, body and soul, urging him to give, to cum, to empty himself for her. He would oblige, as if he had a choice, and deeply she, it, would drink him dry again, the body shaking orgasm to be followed by pain, as it drew the very moister from his body, greedy, carnal, demonic, lustful. What was it? The story doesn't say, but Paul, would dutifully return every evening, his eyes more sunken then before, for another night in The Abyss.

Crack open a bottle of wine specially selected to go with said meal and pour two glasses of the aromatic elixir.

Smile at her antics, before slipping behind her, sliding my hands on to her swaying hips and follow along with the exciting dance

Grab her wrist, just enough pressure to feel her pulse, and press her wandering hand against my chest, as I run my index finger under her chin tilting her head up to look directly into my eyes...

Invite her to join us in that more comfortable location!

Splay my fingers through the back of her hair, before making a fist and pulling her head gently back against my shoulder, whispering into her ear between clenched teeth, "want to go somewhere more comfortable hmm?"