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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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The beginning of night, so timid and so ripe, embraced them. The shadows deepened as they watched. The woods around faded into a jungle of dark things writhing in the wind and became claws reaching to the sky, screaming silently. The cold night air bothered neither of them even though they were nude, their clothing lying in a pile by two large jugs of water. Their skin at first fading and then brilliantly white in the rising moonlight, alabaster breasts and bellies . . . their curves like some wondrous landscape for the other to explore.
They kissed and touched gently as the night deepened. As of yet there was no burning passion. The hungers of both in check for the moment they were tender and loving. Their hands played across each others skin, feeling the smoothness and the contrast, enjoying the opposing skins feel in their hands. One was burning hot, the other deadly cold. They were as near opposites as one can get.
One had hair that was raven black and lips as deep red as a ruby dipped in blood. Her eyes were dark and her body lithe and delicate. She had not a strand of hair below her head, her skin pure and deathly white. Even her groin was so smoothly shaven she might have never had hair to start with. Her lips though, pouty and pink with a deeper redness that tempted the touch. She had so many names over the years she had forgotten them all but the one she was called by now, Arwen. Her lover had named her after the Celtic deity of death. She liked that. She let the other names fade and became that for her.
The other had an explosion of passionate red hair. Like fire burning in a crown about her face, her hair seemed in a constant state of swirling, writhing, ecstasy. Her skin tickled with freckles all over, angel kisses that covered her shoulders and chest and a few, naughtily placed by an angel on her shaved lips. Her eyes were the most amazingly brilliant green, like emeralds set in her elfin face. Her lips, full and pouty, were left natural. She wore little make up, her beauty radiated from within. Her breasts, large and heaving, hung naturally and the pink puffy nipples seemed always hard, pleading for sucking. Her name was Brigitte. She was fire, pure and simple.
Their kissing and touching became more meaningful. The night’s embrace waking in each of them needs they had to fulfill. Their soft lips pressed together and hands explored further, reaching down and parting each others legs to feel their mutual arousal. Rubbing the wetness on each other they began to smell like fucking. Smells were very important to them both. Passion should smell like passion. No perfume could match the smell of sweat and sex . . . and blood.
Arwen pushed her down and slid on top of her. Straddling Brigitte’s larger hips, she began to grind her bare pussy on her as they kissed, smearing sex down her lovers belly until she was slick with it. Pinning her arms down, she grinned impishly as her need became stronger then her lovers. She began to bite her as they kissed, teeth grabbing at Brigitte’s lips playfully at first and then with more and more force. Her hands on Brigitte’s wrists clenched vice like, her lover moaned with the pain of it, a weaker person would have broken but these two were not the breakable type.
Arwen dry humped on her lover, grinding and rubbing and sliding up and down her belly. She began to bite and nibble on the neck, teeth marks connecting the freckles as she began to bite harder and harder. Her lover moaned and Arwen grew famished. The taste of her flesh, the feel of her warmth, it was all too much to resist. She let it come, let it flow from her and enjoyed the dark feeling of her teeth aching and stretching.
Then the bite. Two points of pain, finite precise points that pushed until Brigitte felt her flesh acquiesce and part. The pain was sliding deeper into her as the points became thicker, the pain digging into her, penetrating her. She moaned as the teeth spread her wide open and plunged in full length, the feeling of her own blood splurting out, pushing against them as they violated her flesh.
Then the sucking started. The pain lessened, the feeling of blood flowing lessened, now, she felt herself being drawn out. She felt herself smearing down her own neck and across her breasts. The feeding had no manners or etiquette. Arwen drank from her, used her, the teeth chewing in and out to make the blood flow more. She felt like she was dripping out those two bite marks, like she was being turned inside out or herself.
Then the wetness on her belly as Arwen came and gushed sex all over her. The feeling of her cum splashing and dripping down her flesh, she began to moan louder and that moan began to change. Arwen drank and slurped from her, the weakness making her feel amazingly aroused as she was drawn out, used, consumed. She tilted her head back and looked up. The full moon filled her gaze and made her eyes shine. She groaned more as Arwen’s drinking slowed and then stopped. She was full of her now. Brigitte groaned and the sound became a growl.
Her own need began to boil up. As she felt the teeth sliding from her and the holes began to fill and close, Brigitte felt her skin crawling, stretching. Millions of tiny pin pricks tortured her deliciously as Arwen sat back on her, face smeared in blood, eyes burning darkness. She ground her pussy against Brigitte again just to feel the squish of her own cum and laughed. Brigitte’s eyes were feral and wild, her breathing ragged, almost panting. She let go of Brigitte’s wrists and jumped up and began to run, laughing as she did. Brigitte watched her as she went, her body glowing white as she vanished into the trees.
The tiny pin pricks of pain gave way to the feeling of sliding out of herself as her flesh was covered in a silky coating of hair. Her breasts pulled in tighter and a second set began to press out, two more nipples puckering into existence on them. She ran her hands over her own body, feeling her muscles changing, growing, and strengthening. She breathed in deeply and smelled her prey running through the forest. Her nails elongated and grew harder until they were claws, razor sharp and curved. She ran the tips over her new nipples and moaned as the pain of them made her crazy in heat.
Then her clit, already throbbing in excitement ached and began to hurt. It pushed and twitched and began to grow. It lengthened and thickened and swelled up. Rolling onto all fours, she put her head down and raised her ass up so she could feel it dangle between her legs as it grew even more and the tip swelled up into a head. Growling as her ears grew back and whiskers emerged, she wagged her ass back and forth so that she could feel her cock pulling her pussy lips open just slightly as is swung back and forth.
She had mastered the art of stroking her cock with the thumb and fore finger while using the last two fingers to play with her lips. Gender was just a state of flesh and she had long ago learned to transcend it as her need required. She enjoyed the feeling of her own sex making her fur wet and slippery; tonight she needed to be savage beyond words. Tonight she needed the hunt to be about violation, taking, devouring her prey. She cried out as her teeth and jaw changed. The teeth elongated and sharpened and the jaw muscles grew stronger. Her cry changed as she did, from a scream into a long low yowl. Then she collapsed onto the ground, smelling their scents mixed in the soil. She purred.
Rising up she sniffed the air and caught scent of her lover. She could hear Arwen running through the trees. There was no joy if the mouse does not run. Brigitte growled a long, low, hungry growl. She listened and heard Arwen’s feet swishing through grass and snapping a tiny twig. She smelled the blood, the sex, the excitement and the fear. Looking up at the moon, she yowled a savage cry and then, the hunt was on.
Her foot falls were all but silent as she raced after her prey. Her eyes seeing as though it was bright daylight, she raced after Arwen in the dark. She could hear the heart beating her own blood as she neared her. She could smell the two of them mixed in Arwen’s scent. They were one in her. She sprinted forward, her hunger uncontrollable now.
Arwen heard her at the last second and tried to dodge to the right but Brigitte was too fast. She took her lover at full speed sending both of them tumbling through the air. Brigitte landed, as cats do, on her feet, spinning instantly and pouncing on her prey. Arwen pushed her off once, her immortal flesh so much stronger then a normal human’s, she sent Brigitte into the air and against a tree. Brigitte was too fast though, before Arwen could stand again she was on her throwing her down to the ground.
Arwen tried to roll onto her back but Brigitte held her in place with one hand, the claws tearing at Arwen’s wrists as she struggled. The smell of fresh blood made Brigitte howl in delight as she forced the prey’s legs apart. She fucked into her with one hard thrust, her clit/cock penetrating her and the force knocking her forward slightly. Again and again she fucked into the prey, harder and harder each time. Her cock/clit grew and lengthened to terrible proportions, hammering in and out of Arwen’s tight pussy again and again, each time deeper and more brutally until each thrust produced blood and screams. But Arwen healed as quickly as she bled her immortal flesh sealing and new before the next thrust. Over and over Brigitte fucked into her and growled in delight as she withdrew herself bloody.
Then she released Arwen’s hands, the prey was not struggling any more. Excitement beyond words exploded in Brigitte as she bared her razor claws and as she fucked the prey senseless she began to rip and tear at her flesh. Her claws ripping the back to the bone sending blood spattering in all directions only to have it heal as fast as she ripped. She howled in pure glee as she murdered her lover over and over, fucking her faster and harder until she felt her entire body begin to combust with her release.
Screaming out a bestial cry, she slammed into Arwen and began to pump her cunt full of cum, explosion after explosion emptied into her. At the same moment, she ejaculated from her pussy, squirting more cum all over the ground and her prey. She threw her head back and let out a triumphant cry of ecstasy as she finished pumping cum into and onto her lover. Then as she began to slump over her, with her last strength she used her claws to cut her breast open, once more spilling her own blood out onto her lover.
Arwen turned over, her tear stained face hungry once again. She grasped at her lover and raised herself up to the gushing breast and began to drink from her. The two embraced, their blood stained bodies sliding together as they kissed and drak and licked at one another. Their passions spent, their needs fed, they kissed so deeply they almost merged into one being.
Long moments later, Brigitte felt the last of the fur slide back into her. Human once more, she kissed and licked at her mate. They were so beyond words, they made no sound as they caressed and tasted their murder on each other. Arwen was the perfect prey, able to be taken again and again. Arwen traced her fingers over Brigitte’s clit, normal sized now but so sore. She jumped and bit at Arwen and the two laughed silently and then kissed again.
The moon was waning and dipping low in the sky. They knew they must wash and leave. The scent of their murder heavy in the air, other predators would be here soon. They must be away by then, washed and slipped back into the shadows. Then they could sleep, tangled together, hungers fed, until their hungers woke them once again. Brigitte looked at the moon and wished she could touch it. Caress it. The voyeur that had watched them countless times, she just wished once she could reach out and touch it.
They left the silent trees and darkened wood. Their sex and blood spattered all around; their scent driving other predators insane. But they were not prey for others; they were only prey for each other, an endless cycle of need and satisfaction. They were the perfect prey. Together they were an endless story of sex and love and murder . . . and only the moon could tell their tale. |
