The thrumming of the engine on the open road vibrated through George's Knucklehead Chopper into him. The scenery past unobserved on either side. Gunning the engines and cruising along the asphalt dream at a mean 65 mph, George was numb to it all, even to the inevitable sting of some unlucky bug that splattered into his cheek like a needle in to raw flesh.
He had gotten careless in that last town, nearly a day behind him. Careless was not a threat, but it was bothersome. The last time he got careless he had to lay low for nearly a year, sucking the life force out of domestic beasts. Not fun when you are used to dining on the best, Human. The first time he had gotten careless, Sheila, his first love died. "Why didn't they tell me," he screamed into the evening air, like he always did when he got like this.
A blare from the oncoming transport woke him from his revery just in time to swerve back on to his side of the roadway. He knew he would not die, but it would have been inconvenient, especially getting another hog like this one and running properly too. He was unique, as far as he knew, except that he had been adopted and that there were no records of his true parents anywhere.
Night was present when he pulled into the neat family run motel on the hills overlooking the city. The sweet smells of cedar and fresh cut hay permeated the area, while still the city lay just off into the distance, its many lights casting a glow into the sky obscuring any but the brightest stars overhead. He liked cities: trendy, smart, urbane people, with few prejudices and overtly superior attitudes, except for their hick country cousins. This he could live with.
One more night in some bug infested backwater he thought, then on to the thrill of the hunt. But here he was and famished. Eating at the attached diner was a rare treat, utterly empty of hicks. Actually it was utterly empty of everyone, but the nice matronly woman who served as waitress and front-line cook in the back. The food would sustain him if not fill him. She was in her late fifties and was thin for her age, no doubt a side effect of her chain smoking habit he could smell on her breath. She was not beauty, not by a long shot, he appraised, even in her youth with her misbegotten mouth and a fist full of crooked teeth. Her breasts sagged under her apron in appreciation for the litter of kids she must have had. Still she would do, if he could not wait. Rude though, to dine on the soul of the person who is putting you up for the night.
George thanked his hostess politely, an action that no doubt surprised her. After paying for the food and leaving an appropriate tip, he passed silently into his room and past out on the bed exhausted.
—
He had been in the sleepy town for about a week when the two preppy city slickers pulled into the town looking for lodgings. They were kids who had travelled too far into Deliverance Country and pulled out just in time before they got hurt, but not in time to be stuck in this backwater. The story circulated that their Lexus had broke down and Hank of Hank's Garage and Groceries, needed a part and it was going to take a few days. They strolled casually into Buddy's Brew, dressed in matching red checkered lumberjack outfits and ordered something European. Not a good start really, but the silence it created was laudable, if for the wrong reasons, and short lived. Breaking the silence, Buddy proclaimed, "We don't serve your kind ere."
"What kind is that," the stupid blond on the right asked.
Amongst the jeers, were audible words like "Butt Fuckers" and "Fairies" and the occasional "Queers," but mostly laughing and booing.
"We're not queer," the stupid one stated, as his more world wise friend took the briefest of taste of the crowd and began to pull his junior out of the bar. As he pulled his resisting friend out of the brewing fight that was just about to fall on them like an avalanche, the first bottle smashed over his head showering him with glass and piss poor brew; the first of many.
"I don't care about homosexuals," he thought. "They are just people, one of the easiest food sources around actually, they are almost always eager to fuck any time and any place. And liberated too, so a little kink does not unsettle them too much so it is all good. I prefer women, something that, well since Sheila, has remained untasted. While I don't care about them, I do hate homophobes. I don't care if you hate black people, I don't care if you hate the poor or the rich or both, but I do hate hypocrisy." Over the years he had made it a mission to seek out those that say one thing and then privately do the opposite and had noticed that many hard line Homophobes really like dick in their ass. And it looked like Buddy was heading for some bad times.
—
The thunder rumbling in the distance was what he heard in the background when he woke, the flashes seen clearly through the blinds, but it was the erection that had woken him in earnest. The tent had formed beneath his worn leather pants, the strain of it bending his erection painfully. There was a scent in the air that he had not felt in years. A lure that had driven him insane while he slept. There was a woman nearby, a special woman.
The distant city was completely hidden in the storm. Rain lashed the ground, stirring it up into a frothy mud that splattered on everything. In a flash of light the parking lot was lit up. Grey rain streaked filled the way between the two buildings, the motel where he stood and the diner/registry on the other side. The crack of thunder began before the light faded and the area was washed with the smell of fresh ozone. Through the darkness, the light in the registry room was barely visible. He pushed into the shroud of water that ran through the night. After a few steps, his hair was plastered to his skull, and after a minute his leather was soaked through to the skin and his erection had mostly melted away, leaving merely a solid imprint along his groin, if anyone noticed.
The screen door was open wide, tied to the banister with a practiced knot. The rain was piling up on a small lake on the misaligned flooring, pooling against the stoop. The rain was drumming loudly upon the roof. She leaned back in her chair resting its back against the far wall, with only two legs on the floor. He light mousey hair was drawn back in a limp pony tail with a few strands dangling forgotten by the elastic. Glasses with a fine wire frame rested lightly on he nose. In one hand she played with a orange HB pencil that rested firmly between her pursed lips that sucked gently on its rubber end. Two beautiful brown eyes darted to and fro on the pages of the thick Psychology book supported in her final hand. Her right leg kicked lazily back in forth while the other stayed motionless on the other side of the chair leaving her thighs parted in her worn and tattered acid washed cutoffs. Her strong scent washed over him from between her legs, causing his fading cock to pulse back into readiness.
Lightning flashed and booming thunder clapping at the same time jostled her to look up and seeing him mid stride appear out of the darkness, startled her and she lost her balance.
He caught up to her as lay on the floor holding the back of her head and wincing in pain. "You startled me," from her and "I'm sorry I startled you," from him simultaneously caused her to laugh, and sending painful needles into her eyes.
He stooped to help her up, an action that relieved his swollen cock to no end, allowing it to find more space to comfortably relax away from the binding leather. He fumbled to get her chair righted, distracted by her very smell, that now much closer, was impossible to ignore.
He gently lifted her up cradling her in his arms allowing her to regain her feet, his hands pressed gently along her thighs bum and back. Feet once again resting on the floor she attempted to resist gravity and stand and failed. Grabbing hold of his waist she stood shakily pressed close to his body. He felt her pert nipples against his stomach and she felt a throb from his penis, clearly outlined and pressed against her. "I'm sorry," he said, and not meaning her fall. Clearly no used to his reaction to her at all.
She pushed herself back, but still unable to stand began to sink back to the ground, her legs like jelly. At his reassuring touch, she glanced up and stopped, her mouth like a small 'o'. Eyes like deer's eyes caught before traffic at night.
He leaned forward to kiss. Sparks leapt forth from this touch, stronger than any touch or kiss of a man. Pushing her back and up upon the registry desk and registry book he began kissing down her chin, holding down her scrawny arms. He kissed and sucked his way on to her throat and around her neck. Kissing roughly her shoulder he inexpertly fumbled for her chest with one hand while rubbing with his other on her cunt.
Grabbing hold of her shirt she tossed it over her head revealing a slight tan line across both breasts and a flush of pink on her chest. Catching hold of his neck as he took in one tit into his mouth and sucked, she arched toward him. Things started making sense again for him as the blade of had hand ran between her thighs and feeling her internal warmth. Moving to the second breast, he circled her nipple with his tongue. His thumb pushed aside the clasp and onto her neatly trimmed muff. Taking her breast into he mouth and inhaling it entirely, whilst skinning the wild beast of its shorts.
Parting her leg's sweet treasure his thumb slides in her wetness. Tongue caresses her. Arms press his head down, her legs wrap as if to hold him in place. Her hands run through his hair, clenching mats of it in her hands.
Breaking her embrace with a shrug, he unclasps the leather prison from his waist. Understanding his desire she spread herself wide, legs locking back behind his buttocks. Taking hold of his thick rod she guides it into her, desire takes hold of everything. His heavily scarred penis seems almost ribbed, for her pleasure … he slides into her, she shudders. His legs are soft as fur on her legs … he thrusts into her strong and sure. She grabs hold of his head and feels two little horns… the thrusts move in circles. A fluttering of soft fur flits from his bum… her eyes begin to roll back in her skull. She feels, as if within her he is touching everywhere important all at once… he leans forth as her orgasm takes her again and again, the kiss that sates him. Her energy flows into him, she rocks back and forth, lolling in ecstasy.
He withdraws, burning liquid splashes upon her chest and soaks on to the book of registry. Never again inside, like he with Sheila.
—
High school was a distant memory, nearly three years ago Sheila had been with him since grade nine and the had been having sex since grade ten. Well it had been sex at first, but after the first few times, they had slipped into making love.
Sheila was a picture of beauty, short to his five and ten, she was five foot five. Her hair which never seemed to lack body was the deepest chestnut browns and the softest hair he could ever imagine. Her nose was a small sharp button, and her generous smile always melted his heart. Her teeth were not perfect, the bottom two were crooked and there was the cutest space between her front teeth. Her chin, which he would kiss before he left each day before work, was perfect for him. Her breasts, which had attracted him to her in grade nine, the largest of any of the girls two years her senior, were round and perky and large dark nipples, no longer held his attention and not since their early love making sessions. Her hips were wide and people said that she would bear him many sons through those hips and he felt that they were the second most attractive part of her body. It was her eyes that always held him firm, when love making, her pupil expanded to cover her deep brown iris; when he discovered this, her breasts disappeared from his mind.
The baby blue tuxedo and five inch platform shoes had hung in the closet beside her wedding dress, the latter a keepsake from the happiest day of his life two years ago and the former from the last time they went out to the disco-tech, the night she told him she was pregnant, six months ago.
The big day was today, she had gone into labour after their second session of love making that day. His adopted father told him that two words would cut our sex life in half, "I do," but contrary to everyone else's experience they seemed to increase in this activity, often more than once a night. When she got off the pill so that they could conceive, they made love even more. Again people, friends and strangers told him once she is pregnant the sex would dry up; apparently no one told Sheila that.
She was his first love, but she had been with one or two others and she insisted no one compared to him. He had been attracted to other women, but because of his embarrassing condition, he never would.
The hour of the delivery of his first born came and he had insisted that he would accompany his only love thought the entire ordeal over all the support staff's objections, he was not the first father to witness the birth of his child, but it was still rare for 1975. The first few hours passed with no trouble; the nurses could not believe that this was our first and not our fourth. Things were smooth running. At the third hour the first complication occurred, my wife bleeding uncontrollably, I was pushed from the birthing room. Her howls would haunt me to the end of days.
—
Her name was Sophie and there was not much to this girl except that her neatly trimmed little pussy had George's balls in chains. Sweat had plastered her long dark blonde hair to her face. The standard post coital chat had told him plenty of information about this new potential lover, his first woman in over thirty years. She was studying for her psycology exam that would complete her Fine Arts degree. No boyfriend, not many friends, most of those had graduated earlier as she had to take time off to earn money to get through school, her parents had disappeared just a couple years ago and the insurance company would not pay the their life insurance policy unless there was a body. After school she had a housekeeping job lined up in the city it paid less than this job, but at least it was not here in the boonies, made worse by being able to see it every day from a far.
George, the entire time he was listening and giving very little back, was thinking what she could have that he wanted so badly. They were dressed again at this point, but his hard on had not subsided dispite having cum harder than he could remember in a long while.
The silence had stretched unnoticed for a few minutes. George scrambled to recall the last words that she said. He recalled that she had asked if he was heading to the city in the morning and that she was to catch the bus here in the wee hours of the morning. As if unused to talking he croaked, "Y-yes, I am heading to the city in the morning," and as if it were not just tacked on to the end, "You want a ride?"
The motel owners were early risers, but the bus would be arriving before they got up, so they had paid her in full, including this nights work, in advance. Her course was through correspondence, but she had to show up in person for the final exam. She had followed him back to his room as she prattled on. He recalled that young women sometimes needed to be close after sex, to be seen with them, or perhaps she just needed some interesting conversation after three months spent in the boonies in the off season.
He turned to confront her about which it was and to say that he was in no mood when she broke his train of thought. "Wow, you are still hard! I would have thought it would have gone away by now. Does it hurt?"
Realizing that she was indeed correct, his erection struggling to get to attention was trapped painfully against his leg by his leathers, his bulging glans in sharp contrast his long meaty shaft. Only by her drawing attention to it did he now feel the discomfort.
She kneeled before him on the threadbare throw rug that covered part of the designing accident hat was the decor of this room she looked for a way to remove the leather trousers, finding none began to pull them down. Sophie seemed intrigued by George's thick course hair that obscured most of his genitil region. So engrossed in her work she was caught by surprise as George's generous love stick was freed and sprang to attention, striking her satisfyingly on her chin on the way up.
Extending her tongue to a point she touched the tip of his erection right at the end of his urethra, left hand attempting to encircle his shaft, and failing, stroked roughly, while right reached into the thick mat of hair to grasp and clench his tight balls. A groan escaped his lips as she worked her tongue around his penis head, working it into the spiral of scar tissue to its tip. Her left hand ran up and down his long ribbed love stick, thumb pressing the ventral side, her thumbnail stratching as she pumped. She worked his balls with the practised ease of a milkmaid on her new charge; her pinky nail slipping back to scratch his puckered virgin anus.
His penis began to move on its own accord. George pulled her from her knees to lie face down on the bed, cover ruffled from his interrupted sleep not an hour ago. With a fluid motion, lacking any grace, he pulled then pushed her cutoffs down her mid thighs, progress hindered by the wet denim. He thrust into her with assuredness. With relief in his eyes he thrust into her like a piston of a train locomotive, long steady with increasing rate.
Sophie was not sure what she saw or felt but before he threw her on the bed, she thought his penis was starting to come apart? But the instant he penetrated her all consious thought was pushed from her mind. How could he hit every spot at the same time. She was climaxing the moment he entered her and for at least a minute after she felt the hot sting of semen splatter against her head, shirt and felt the warm liquid melt into the lower back, soothing all the pains of a long workday.
Sheila had called it a Medusa Foreskin, because the way that it wiggled and snaked when he was aroused. Inside of her, she claimed, she could not think correctly; the sensation so overwhelming. It was not until he drew the sensation out of her with a kiss that she calmed down. Until that kiss she was brutally strong, scoring his flesh with her nails and drawing blood as she tried to dismember him. The kiss drew it from her and healed him of all but the most superficial wounds. Looking down at the bed that Sophie had just torn apart, he kissed her, drawing it from her.
—
The last of the rain was spitting from clouds only now starting to disperse, the thunderstorm advancing further into the hills when the bus pulled into the motel Parkinglot. No one was around, but the fading rear lights of a motorcycle turning the last bend at the bottom of the hill. The driver stepped down from the cab and crossed the muddy lot to the registry building where a lonely light lit the room. No one was there, but it looked like some sort of murder had taken place there. The door was wide open and swinging in the wind, water stood an inch deep, blood pooled beyond it and splattered on the wall. In his shock the newspaper under his arm fluttered down, front page open into the water. The pages quickly soaked the water and the mixing blood, the headline quickly wetted into mush, Bizarre Tripple Suicide in Hicktown.
—
Alcohol has long given men courage to do things that sober men would fear to do. Buddy, Hank and Noland drank well into the night, long after saner men called it a night and in this hick town, that was saying a lot. People in hick towns have nothing to do besides drink and fuck and drinking usually is more availible.
Hank had led them into his garage where the car stood, almost brand new. George stood looking at the scene from the shadows. Three drunk men looking for a fight, better that he stay put. Hank passed out the spray paint cans and quickly the car recieved a knew coat of paint. Words appeared across the lime green exterior paint, "FAGS" and "KWEARS", finishing grade school was not common in these parts, and "GAYS". Crowbars were summoned up and the body was assaulted badly marring their previous work. Finally, each tried to one up the other with the grossest acts they could imagine. Noland pissed in the gas tank, Hank dropped his drawers and shat in the windowwasher fluid, and Buddy threw up in the backseat and passed out, face deep in sick.
Hank stepped out of his squat to find Noland asleep, dick in hand asleep against the car. "Never could hold your liquor, ya dumb bastard! Erk!?," Hank uttered in surprise as George put a knife to his throat.
Always ready for any situation mineral oil applied liberally to his cock, George shoved his pink pig sticker into the just used shit hole and pushed Hank over lifting one leg to keep him unbalanced and holding the side of his head in the mess he just caused. Virgin homophobe ass is always the best ass. Tears streaming down his face left tracks in the dirt and sweat, trailing into his mouth. As George pushed himself into a crescendo, Hank began to learn the awful truth about rape, with each thrust, one deeper than the one before, each one less and less painful, his body betrayed him and he started to feel pleasure.
Face still smeared with his own excrement he lifted his head to shout out. George used to this grabbed a fistfull of hair and pulled back whilst reaching around to grab his hardening cock. With each thrust George stroked his victim until the spoiled car's headlight was splashed with a load of fresh Hank. Leaning down his tongue snaked out into the cleaner side of Hank's sweaty mouth. Drawing the energy out of Hank with his kiss, George's lips grazed his honey's sweaty cheak, his essence was drawn out of him with the taste of salt and the texture of course stubble.
Releasing Hanks head, allowing him to sink to the ground, sliding off George's cam shaft and the mixture of cum, blood and santorum. Hank began to whimper quietly, while The man who mastered him moved to his next victim.
It took a little less than twenty minutes to do the same to the other men. The kiss has always been a funny thing to him. With Sheila, it had restored her, left her well rested and full of energy. With gay men, it left them passive as a cat sitting in a window in the winter time. Men that he had raped it had left them dispondent and quiet or angry and violently suicidal. Usually the former and only a few times the latter. Which is why George wanted to finish up quickly, just incase.
Speeding down the highway just past three in the morning speeding nearly ten miles out of town he pasted two preppy yuppie hitchhikers legging as if their life depended upon it.
—
Perhaps it was time he settled down again.
Cat jumped on to his lap.
Sophie seemed to attract strays, first George, then Cat. They got an apartment together and George got a job chopping bikes at a local garage and Sophie was cleaning houses together they made just enough money to make rent in this expensive and trendy city of Laorta. She was overdue to come home now, by about two hours.
He had been worried that she might run when he first revealed his furry flanks, short tail and small stud horns. "You're a Satyr," she proclaimed with a sense of pride and deep seated thrill, "Bacchus's love machines from Greek Myth!" and then, "You're so gorgeous!"
After that the worst he had to endure was her pet names, "Little Faun" and the like. But the sex was regular and intense; he had found what he had needed in these years since Sheila's death. But where was she?
He tired her phone again, nothing. She was either beyond a cell tower or her phone was off. He should have insisted on taking her to this new job in the neighbourhood clear across town.
Where was she?
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