Friday the 13th

Friday the 13th Friday the 13th

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Boy meets girl, go to her house, both get naked, girl uses mouth to good effect.

Summary

Boy meets girl, go to her house, both get naked, girl uses mouth to good effect.

Content

Submitted: March 20, 2016

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: March 20, 2016

A A A

A A A


 

 

Friday the 13th.

 

2330 hrs; As pick-ups go it was pretty standard. Friday night, Club, boy pissed but not too pissed, sees girl, fancies girl, he chases her until she catches him. Dance, drinks, dance, drinks. Slow dance - a very close slow dance. She could feel his dick sticking into her, his hands on her arse pushing them together. He could fell her hard nipples on his chest. Your place or mine he asked, mine she said. Who said Friday 13th was unlucky, he thought. Sat.14th She thought.

0055 hrs; They fell into a taxi and started pawing at each other, nothing the driver hadn’t seen before. Even though he thought their Fathers should beat some respect and obedience into these stupid young English girls it didn’t stop him looking, in fact it was a perk of the job. He looked in excitement and disgust.

Then the girl smiled at him – the English whore actually smiled at him, with one tit out and two fingers squelching in and out of her pussy, she smiled at him. That was when he looked away, for it was a smile, as his glance flickered back and forth road, mirror, road, mirror, road, mirror, three of four times a second, every other glance seemed to have too many teeth in it. He shuddered, muttering in his language and never looking again.

0122 hrs; She unlocked the door and they fell into the hall, their hands everywhere, pulling at zips and buttons, doing the hop, skip, one legged striptease down the hall, her arms round his neck. He lifted her by the arse, all his fingers except one digging into the meat of her arse. The other, his third finger, he forced in to the hairy bronze starfish. She moaned, Fuck, mumble, mumble. What did he care, let the bitch moan. Her legs, already high and tight round his waist relaxing their tight grip as she lowered herself onto his dick, which rose to meet her. In three hard rough thrusts they were joined. He squashed, her against the wall, fucking her hard and slow as they grunted their effort and passion into each other’s locked mouths. Her tits squashed against his chest, his legs locked slightly bent for all the leverage he could get.

0127 hrs; Bed, she said, take me to bed. He waddled slowly fucking her with each step towards the bed. He aimed them on to it sideways, then he rolled on top. Fuck, bill, mumble she kept on whispering. My names not Bill he thought, but I can be Bill tonight if that’s what it takes.

0129 hrs; She rolled him over, with a surprising ease and strength, still muttering under her breath, Fuck, Bill, beat or something. He started to tell her that wasn’t his name. She put a finger to his lips. You just lie back she said, close your eyes, enjoy. He did.

0133 hrs; Her hands pinned his, hard. Her thigh’s gripped his hips even harder, hard enough to hurt. Her speed increased. He could feel the rough thatch of her pussy grinding against the base of his dick. He was going to come soon. He could’ve sworn it was bald in the taxi…strange that.

0135 hrs; She was going to come soon she could feel the fluttering begin in her pussy and pelvis, she could feel her arse start to twitch and pucker, she wished the finger was back in. Her Mantra got louder

0136: 55secs; It took his pussy befuddled brain three times to finally properly hear and process the words.

0136: 59secs; She could feel the power of the orgasm rip through her, then at many times that Intensity, the other power flood her…the real power.

0137; his eyes flew open as the words finally made sense. Not quite the last thing he saw was face of the still morphing woman change fully into, well, all he actually registered was a pair of pitiless cold grey eyes set above a wide gaping teeth filled muzzle. The last thing he saw was that muzzle hurtle down at him. The last thing he felt were the bones of his own throat as it crunched under the onslaught of powerful jaws.

Men’s bodies are strange. It’s a well-documented fact that sometimes, in extreme circumstances, the dying organism will ejaculate in one last throw of the survival stakes. The woman that was inside the beast felt his sperm flood into her. She did the only thing she could, with a sound both sorrowful and triumphant…

She Howled.

The rest of the night was spent feeding the beast that lay within, then resting, then feed some more…especially the liver, the beast loved liver! She loved liver too in the daylight hours, but in a more civilised manner, with mashed potatoes, fried onions and gravy, made just the way her mother had taught her…and her mother before her, back into the distant past.

She thought she could feel that sperm working it’s little spermy magic. Maybe she might need that Iron and mineral rich liver for other reasons than just feeding the beast within.

 

**********

The next morning after literally and figuratively changing, freshly showered she tidied up the few scant remains of her meal, she made a coffee and attended to her daily ritual of diary writing. Taking the little ribbon thingy, she opened up the book...

Saturday 14th October.Full Moon: 0137.

Dear Diary; Monthlies. No problems; they say it might rain, I don’t think so, it looks such a nice morning.

And closed it.

What?

What was the Mantra…you mean you haven’t guessed?

Do you really want to know? it won’t do you any good.

Why?

Why? Because if you DO ever hear it again, it WILL be the last thing you ever hear just before your throat too, is ripped out.

OK, OK.

 

FUCK, KILL, EAT!

FUCK, KILL, EAT!

FUCK, KILL, EAT!

From one point of view, not the worst way to live, all depends which end of the teeth you’re on.

The phrase just popped in my head as I was driving along. At first I thought, what a cracking title for a story, then I thought it might give the game away, hence ‘Friday the 13th’

Most Werewolves seem to be men (nods to Angua) But the whole ‘Moon’ thing is female orientated, so it had to be a woman… Men are only (mostly) ruled by 2 things, their dicks, then their stomachs.

An alternate title might be: ‘Pussy; it’ll draw you further than gunpowder can blow you.’  

 

Thanks for reading. The above version is a 'second version' I had to cobble together from memory and plot notes due to pressing the delete button.

Memo to self: Always back up your work...anyway, with help I got the 'real version' back. I think it's tighter and better, but what do I know.

 

Friday The 13 - Original Version

As things go nowadays It was a standard enough pick up. Friday night at a Club. Boy, pissed but not too pissed. Sees girl. He chases her until she catches him. Dance, drink, talk, drink, slow dance, your place or mine. Mine she said. So much for Friday the 13th thought one. Saturday the 14th thought the other. Groping in the taxi. Driver gets a right eyeful. She smiled at him in the mirror. One tit out and two of the boy’s fingers in her pussy…and she smiles at the taxi driver? Trouble was it was the sort of smile that seemed to have far more teeth than a smile really needed. He turned his mirror away, eyes on road. They did the one legged, clothes off, hop, skip and jump up the hallway. He pinned her up against the wall next to the open bedroom door. Her arms round his neck. His hands gripping her arse, one finger in up to the knuckle. Her legs high round his waist. He lunges up, hard, is half way in at the first stroke. He roughly fucks her until It’s up to the hilt. She glances at her watch, pulls her lips from his. Bed she said. He walked her to the bed fucking her with each step. They toppled onto the bed, him on top. Her muttering, fuck mumble, mumble. Her climax was mounting. She looked at her watch, 0245. Rolling him over she straddled him. Muttering louder this time fuck, bill, something. My names not Bill he said. Lay back, close your eyes let me do the work she muttered and then on with the fuck, bill, beat or whatever her mantra was. Like he cared, she wants Bill? - I'm Bill. Glancing at the time she fucked faster, harder, she felt both the power and the orgasm flow through her. He could feel her thighs tighten on his, her interlocked finger crushing his. He could hear the mantra perfectly now, yet is brain didn’t process the actual words until the third time of asking. His eyes flew open to see this hairy half woman half wolf thing still fucking him as the morphing continued, but not way that had any likelihood of a ‘happy ending’ of any description…at least for him. His joint last sensation and the last thing his eyes saw was the wide tooth filled muzzle descending to rip out his throat. I did mention joint last sensation didn’t I. Life and the human body is funny. It's a documented fact that sometimes right at the moment of violent death, males will ejaculate, It’s the bodies one last throw of the dice to carry on the line. He was 90% there anyway, so in a way he did have a sexual happy ending plus an unhappy ending at the same time, not at all what he had in mind. As is the way with women they always seem to get the best of the bargain. She felt his seed crash into her and she came. She ripped his throat out with one bite, felt the blood splash her furry muzzle (no not that one, minds in the gutter some of us, the one up top…with the teeth, yes that furry muzzle *rolls eyes) and came again with five times the power. Then proceeded to rip and eat as much of that fresh young meat as she could, especially liver, she adored liver, until she could eat no more. Then fell asleep to let it digest. Eating and sleeping 3 more times, that wolf metabolism really burns up the calories.

Later that afternoon when she had, in both senses, changed. She tidied up the remains of her meal as it were. Once the flat all spick and span, she made a coffee and sat down to bring her diary up to date. She found the end of the little ribbon marker and opened it up at the day’s page, it bore the usual Information.

Saturday 14th October.  Full moon 0247hrs.

Dear Diary, Monthlies. Otherwise uneventful.

What? Oh, you want to know what it was she kept on mumbling, what the mantra was?

You haven’t worked it out yet, I blame the teachers. OK, OK.

 

FUCK, KILL, EAT.

FUCK, KILL, EAT.

FUCK, KILL, EAT.

If you do ever hear that again, it will be the last thing you ever hear...oh and you may hear the sound of the bones in your throat crunching under large pointy teeth! but basically FUCK, KILL, EAT is your lot.

The phrase it’s self just popped in my head from fuck knows where and I thought, what a cracking title for a story. tbh, from a certain point of view, not the worst way to live your life. then I had to wait until I got home to write it. The more I thought about it and the whole full moon thing, the lead HAD to be female as men are not ruled by the moon, they’re ruled by their dicks, then stomachs, so maybe the real title should be...'Pussy; it'll draw you further than gunpowder will blow you'

 

 


© Copyright 2017 E.M. Ockleshaw. All rights reserved.

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