Aaahhh…the fetish. The one secret desire we harbor on rainy days and close our eyes to masturbate to. The lifeline, the spine, of orgasmic pleasure.
Join me again, as we finish The Virginal Blood as we enter the continuation of ….
The Fetish Series
Bathed in the Virgin’s Blood
1970’s
The music blared.
As he took his fingers out of her pussy, he sucked them in front of her.
“You want to taste…don’t you?” he badgered.
“uuuhhhh huh” she shook her head no.
Confused yet delighted at how she felt, the thought of tasting her own wetness gave her a sense of nausea. But, as she licked her lips to ease her queasiness, she felt the warmth of her own blood.
Mmmmm, she couldn’t explain it. She felt transformed.
Stretching her hands high over her head as if reborn and waving to her new gods, he seized her. His palms grasping hers and the weight of his body as he crossed her throne throwing her off balance, he tasted that warmth.
As his tongue bathed in her trickling lip, it mixed with the sweetness he cleansed from his fingers. His primordial beast awakened as her womanhood seeped to life.
He stretched her budding body across the new carpet of his mom’s station wagon. You could still smell the hint of new interior as his musk hung heavy in the air.
She never made another protest as he hungrily surveyed her body. She remained hypnotized as he ripped her white shirt button by button exposing the buds underneath…..
….oh, those mouth-watering buds.
He couldn’t resist. Kneeling over her, he continued to rip. Her skirt, then panties as she writhed in tranced euphoria.
Then he bit. Not the nipple, but the beckoning pink areola protecting the hardening crown. Ohhh, the bite. A small pool of blood rises from the wound and he leans in to ease the sting. With her blood rinsed clean from her skin, he savors it with her in one deep kiss, she clings to him as if she is about to fall into an orgasmal abyss.
Her moans….
His cock harder than ever imagined protrudes his tight pants as if to enter her through his denim, he presses deep into her cunt. He can feel her excitement, desire, and lust saturate his crotch. He must wrestle free from his denim imprisonment as he tastes her sticky juices dripping from her cunt.
Preparing for their virginal mount, he returns to her raw tit and sucks more life before he enters….and then her lip.
Teasing her virgin pussy with the hot tip of his cock, he slides along her slit from clit to ass lubricating it for the maiden stretch as she digs her nails into his back drawing his own blood….then gush.
She feels him fill her canal…
She feels the rip as her Hymen breaks free…
She feels the fullness of his thick cock press into her…
and, she screams.
She screams of penance…
She screams of delight…
She screams as her body rebels and quakes…
and, she cums.
He can feel the intense tightness of her virginity give way as her pussy learns to pulse around his own manhood. He grabs the new shag carpet of his mom’s station-wagon as wave after wave of cum passes between them leaving them bathed in her virginal blood…
**************
Aaahhh, the virginal blood does dry, but the ecstasy never dies. She awaits every year for the anniversary of their first fuck. The routine always the same. Her birthday…. He comes to make conversation, you know, as any good priest would and wish one of his nuns nothing but good tidings.
The station-wagon is long gone.
The radio no longer plays.
And, the area rug takes place of the new shag carpet, but he still fucks her.
The bite may come once, twice, thrice or even more times. They may be on her nipple, her neck, even her hungry nether lips…but they fuck with kisses tainted of red until the clock strikes the end….
